 Aladdin and the Magic Lamp by Unknown There once lived a poor tailor who had a son called Aladdin, a careless idol boy who would do nothing but play all day long in the streets with little idol boys like himself. This so grieved the father that he died. Yet in spite of his mother's tears and prayers, Aladdin did not mend his ways. One day, when he was playing in the streets as usual, a stranger asked him his age, and if he was not the son of Mustafa the tailor, I am so replied Aladdin, but he died a long while ago. One is the stranger, who was a famous African magician, fell on his neck and kissed him, saying, I am your uncle, and knew you from your likeness to my brother, go to your mother and tell her I am coming. Aladdin ran home and told his mother of his newly found uncle. Indeed, child, she said, your father had a brother, but I always thought he was dead. However she prepared supper and bade Aladdin seek his uncle, who came laden with wine and fruit. He fell down and kissed the place where Mustafa used to sit, bidding Aladdin's mother not to be surprised at not having seen him before, as he had been forty years out of the country. He then turned to Aladdin and asked him his trade, at which the boy hung his head, while his mother burst into tears. When learning that Aladdin was idle and would learn no trade, he offered to take a shop for him and stock it with merchandise. Next day he bought Aladdin a fine suit of clothes and took him all over the city, showing him the sights, and brought him home at nightfall to his mother, who was overjoyed to see her son so fine. Next day the magician led Aladdin into some beautiful gardens a long way outside the city gates. They sat down by a fountain, and the magician pulled a cake from his girdle, which he divided between them. Then they journeyed onwards, till they almost reached the mountains. Aladdin was so tired that he begged to go back, but the magician begoaled him with pleasant stories, and led him on in spite of himself. At last they came to two mountains, divided by a narrow valley. We will go no farther, said his uncle, I will show you something wonderful, only do you gather up sticks while I kindle a fire. When it was lit, the magician threw on it a powder he had about him, at the same time saying some magical words. The earth trembled a little in front of them, disclosing a square flat stone with a brass ring in the middle to raise it by. Aladdin tried to run away, but the magician caught him and gave him a blow that knocked him down. What have I done, uncle, he said piteously, whereupon the magician said more kindly, Fie nothing, but obey me. Beneath this stone lies a treasure which is to be yours, and no one else may touch it, so you must do exactly as I tell you. At the word treasure Aladdin forgot his fears, and grasped the ring as he was told, saying the names of his father and grandfather. The stone came up quite easily, and some steps appeared. Go down, said the magician, at the foot of those steps you will find an open door leading into three large halls. Tuck up your gown and go through them without touching anything, or you will die instantly. These halls leading to a garden of fine fruit trees. Walk on till you come to a niche in a terrace where stands a lighted lamp. Pour out the oil it contains, and bring it to me. He drew a ring from his finger and gave it to Aladdin, bidding him prosper. Aladdin found everything as the magician had said, gathered some fine fruit off the trees, and having got the lamp arrived at the mouth of the cave. The magician cried out in a great hurry, make haste and give me the lamp. This Aladdin refused to do, until he was out of the cave. The magician flew into a terrible passion, and throwing some more powder onto the fire. He said something, and the stone rolled back into its place. The man left the country, which plainly showed that he was no uncle of Aladdin's, but a cunning magician, who had read in his magic books of a wonderful lamp which would make him the most powerful man in the world. Though he alone knew where to find it, he could only receive it from the hand of another. He had picked out the foolish Aladdin for this purpose, intending to get the lamp and kill him afterwards. For two days Aladdin remained in the dark, crying and lamenting. At last he clasped his hands in prayer, and in so doing rubbed the ring, which the magician had forgotten to take from him. Immediately an enormous and frightful genie rose out of the earth, saying, What wouldst thou with me? I am the slave of the ring, and will obey thee in all things. One fearlessly replied, Deliver me from this place, whereupon the earth opened, and he found himself outside. As soon as his eyes could bear the light he went home, but fainted on the threshold. When he came to himself he told his mother what had passed, and showed her the lamp and the fruits he had gathered in the garden, which were in reality precious stones. He then asked for some food. At last child she said, I have nothing in the house, but I have spun a little cotton, and will go sell it. Aladdin bade her keep her cotton, for he would sell the lamp instead. As it was very dirty she began to rub it, that it might fetch a higher price. Instantly a hideous genie appeared, and asked what she would have. She fainted away, but Aladdin, snatching the lamp, said boldly, fetch me something to eat. The genie returned with a silver bowl, twelve silver plates containing rich meats, two silver cups, and two bottles of wine. Aladdin's mother, when she came to herself, said, Whence comes this splendid feast? Ask not, but eat, replied Aladdin. So they sat at breakfast till it was dinner time, and Aladdin told his mother about the lamp. She begged him to sell it, and have nothing to do with devils. No, said Aladdin, since chance hath made us aware of its virtues, we will use it, and the ring likewise, which I shall always wear on my finger. When they had eaten all the genie had brought, Aladdin sold one of the silver plates, and so on until none were left. He then had recourse to the genie, who gave him another set of plates, and thus they lived many years. One day Aladdin heard an order from the sultan, proclaimed that everyone was to stay at home, and close his shutters, while the princess, his daughter, went to and from the bath. Aladdin was seized by a desire to see her face, which was very difficult as she always went veiled. He hit himself behind the door of the bath, and peeped through a chink. The princess lifted her veil as she went in, and looked so beautiful that Aladdin fell in love with her at first sight. He went home so changed that his mother was frightened. He told her he loved the princess so deeply he could not live without her, and meant to ask her in marriage of her father. His mother on hearing this burst out laughing, but Aladdin at last prevailed upon her to go before the sultan and carry his request. She fetched a napkin and laid in it the magic fruits from the enchanted garden, which sparkled and shone like the most beautiful jewels. She took these with her to please the sultan, and set out, trusting in the lamp. The grand vizier and the lords of the council had just gone in as she entered the hall, and placed herself in front of the sultan. He, however, took no notice of her. She went every day for a week, and stood in the same place. When the council broke up on the sixth day, the sultan said to his vizier, I see a certain woman in the audience chamber every day carrying something in a napkin. Call her next time, that I may find out what she wants. Next day, at a sign from the vizier, she went up to the fort of the throne and remained kneeling until the sultan said to her, Rise, good woman, and tell me what you want. She hesitated, so the sultan sent away all but the vizier, and made her speak freely, promising to forgive her beforehand for anything she might say. She then told him of her son's violent love for the princess. I prayed him to forget her, she said, but in vain. He threatened to do some desperate deed if I refused to go and ask your majesty for the hand of the princess. Now I pray you to forgive not me alone, but my son Aladdin. The sultan asked her kindly what she had in the napkin, whereupon she unfolded the jewels and presented them. He was thunderstruck, and turning to the vizier said, What sayest thou? ought I not to bestow the princess on one who values her at such a price? The vizier who wanted her for his own son begged the sultan to withhold her for three months, in the course of which he hoped his son could contrive to make him a richer present. The sultan granted this, and told Aladdin's mother that, though he consented to the marriage, she must not appear before him again for three months. The sultan waited patiently for nearly three months, but after two had elapsed, his mother, going into the city to buy oil, found everyone rejoicing and asked what was going on. Do you not know, was the answer, that the son of the grand vizier is to marry the sultan's daughter to-night? Breathless she ran and told Aladdin, who was overwhelmed at first, but presently thought him of the lamp. He rubbed it, and the genie appeared, saying, What is thou will? Aladdin replied, The sultan, as thou knowest, has broken his promise to me, and the vizier's son is to have the princess. My command is that, to-night, you bring hither the bride and bridegroom. Master, I obey, said the genie. Aladdin then went to his chamber, where, sure enough, at midnight the genie transported the bed containing the vizier's son and the princess. Take this new married man, he said, and put him outside in the coal, and return at daybreak. Herupon the genie took the vizier's son out of bed, leaving Aladdin with the princess. Fear nothing, Aladdin said to her, You are my wife, promised to me by your unjust father, and no harm will come to you. The princess was too frightened to speak, and passed the most miserable night of her life, while Aladdin lay down beside her and slept soundly. At the appointed hour the genie fetched in the shivering bridegroom, laid him in his place, and transported the bed back to the palace. Presently the sultan came to wish his daughter good morning. The unhappy vizier's son jumped up and hit himself, while the princess would not say a word, and was very sorrowful. The sultan sent her mother to her, who said, How comes it, child, that you will not speak to your father? What has happened? The princess sighed deeply, and at last told her mother how during the night the bed had been carried into some strange house, and what had passed there. Her mother did not believe her in the least, and bade her rise and consider it an idle dream. The following night exactly the same thing happened, and next morning on the princesses refusing to speak, the sultan threatened to cut off her head. She then confessed all, bidding him ask the vizier's son if it were not so. The sultan told the vizier to ask his son, who owned the truth, adding that, dearly as he loved the princess, he had rather die than go through another such fearful night, and wished to be separated from her. His wish was granted, and there was an end of feasting and rejoicing. When the three months were over, Aladdin sent his mother to remind the sultan of his promise. She stood in the same place as before, and the sultan, who had forgotten Aladdin, at once remembered him and sent for her. On seeing her poverty the sultan felt less inclined than ever to keep his word, and asked his vizier's advice, who counseled him to set so high a value on the princess that no man living would come up to it. The sultan then turned to Aladdin's mother, saying, Good woman, a sultan must remember his promises, and I will remember mine, but your son must first send me forty basins of gold brimful of jewels, carried by forty black slaves, led by as many white ones, splendidly dressed. Tell him that I await his answer. The mother of Aladdin bowed low, and went home, thinking all was lost. She gave Aladdin the message, adding, He may wait long enough for your answer. Not so long, mother, as you think, her son replied. I will do a great deal more than that for the princess. He summoned the genie, and in a few moments the eighty slaves arrived, and filled up the small house and garden. Aladdin made them to set out to the palace, two by two, followed by his mother. They were so richly dressed with such splendid jewels that everyone crowded to see them, and the basins of gold they carried on their heads. They entered the palace, and, after kneeling before the sultan, stood in a half-circle round the throne, with their arms crossed, while Aladdin's mother presented them to the sultan. He hesitated no longer, but said, Good woman, return and tell your son that I wait for him with open arms. She lost no time in telling Aladdin, bidding him make haste. But Aladdin first called the genie. I want a scented bath, he said, a richly embroidered habit, a horse surpassing the sultans, and twenty slaves to attend me. Beside this six slaves beautifully dressed to wait on my mother, and lastly ten thousand pieces of gold in ten purses. No sooner said than done. Aladdin mounted his horse, and passed through the streets. The slaves, strewing gold as they went. Those who had played with him in his childhood knew him not. He had grown so handsome. When the sultan saw him, he came down from his throne, embraced him, and led him into a hall where a feast was spread, intending to marry him to the princess that very day. But Aladdin refused, saying, I must build a palace fit for her, and took his leave. Once home he said to the genie, Build me a palace of the finest marble, set with jasper, agate, and other precious stones. In the middle you shall build me a large hall, with a dome, its four walls of massy gold and silver. Each side having six windows, whose lattices, all except one, which is to be left unfinished, must be set with diamonds and rubies. There must be stables, and horses, and grooms, and slaves. Go and see about it. The palace was finished the next day, and the genie carried him there, and showed him all his orders faithfully carried out, even to the laying of a velvet carpet from Aladdin's palace to the sultans. Aladdin's mother then dressed herself carefully and walked to the palace with her slaves, while he followed her on horseback. The sultans sent musicians with trumpets and cymbals to meet them, so that the air resounded with music and cheers. She was taken to the princess, who saluted her and treated her with great honour. That night the princess said goodbye to her father, and set out on the carpet for Aladdin's palace, with his mother at her side, and followed by the hundred slaves. She was charmed at the sight of Aladdin, who ran to receive her. Princess, he said, blame your beauty for my boldness, if I have displeased you. She told him that having seen him, she willingly obeyed her father in this matter. After the wedding had taken place, Aladdin led her into the hall, where a feast was spread, and she subbed with him, after which they danced till midnight. Next day Aladdin invited the sultan to see the palace. On entering the hall with the four and twenty windows with their rubies, diamonds and emeralds, he cried, It is a world's wonder! There is only one thing that surprises me. Was it by accident that one window was left unfinished? No, sir, by design, returned Aladdin. I wished your majesty to have the glory of finishing this palace. The sultan was pleased, and sent for the best jewelers in the city. He showed them the unfinished window, and bade them fit it up like the others. Sir, replied their spokesman, We cannot find jewels enough. The sultan had his own fetched, which they soon used, but to no purpose. For in a month's time the work was not half done. Aladdin, knowing that their task was vain, bade them undo their work, and carried the jewels back, and the genie finished the window at his command. The sultan was surprised to receive his jewels again, and visited Aladdin, who showed him the window finished. The sultan embraced him, the envious vizier meanwhile, hinting that it was the work of enchantment. Aladdin had won the hearts of the people by his gentle bearing. He was made captain of the sultan's armies, and won several battles for him, but remained as courteous as before, and lived thus in peace and contentment for several years. But far away in Africa the magician remembered Aladdin, and by his magic arts discovered that Aladdin, instead of perishing miserably in the cave, had escaped, and had married a princess, with whom he was living in great honour and wealth. He knew that the poor Taylor's son could only have accomplished this by means of the lamp, and travelled night and day till he reached the capital of China, bent on Aladdin's ruin. As he passed through the town he heard people talking everywhere about a marvellous palace. Forgive my ignorance, he asked. What is the palace you speak of? Have you not heard of Prince Aladdin's palace? Was the reply the greatest wonder in the world? I will direct you if you have a mind to see it. The magician thanked him, who spoke, and, having seen the palace, knew that it had been raised by the genie of the lamp, and became half mad with rage. He determined to get hold of the lamp, and again plunged Aladdin into the deepest poverty. Unluckily Aladdin had gone hunting for eight days, which gave the magician plenty of time. He bought a dozen lamps, put them into a basket, and went to the palace, crying, New lamps for old, followed by a jeering crowd. The princess, sitting in the hall of four and twenty windows, sent a slave to find out what the noise was about. Who came back laughing so that the princess scolded her? Madam, replied the slave, who can help laughing to see an old fool offering to exchange fine new lamps for old ones. Another slave hearing this said, there is an old one on the corner, there which he can have. But this was the magic lamp which Aladdin had left there, as he could not take it out hunting with him. The princess, not knowing its value, laughingly bade the slave take it and make the exchange. She went and said to the magician, give me a new lamp for this. He snatched it and bade the slave take her choice, amid the jeers of the crowd. For he cared, but left off crying his lamps, and went out of the city gates to a lonely place where he remained till nightfall. When he pulled out the lamp and rubbed it, the genie appeared, and at the magician's command carried him together with the palace and the princess in it to a lonely place in Africa. Next morning the sultan looked out of the window towards Aladdin's palace and rubbed his eyes, for it was gone. He sent for the vizier and asked what had become of the palace. The vizier looked out too, and was lost in astonishment. He again put it down to enchantment, and this time the sultan believed him, and sent thirty men on horseback to fetch Aladdin back in chains. They met him riding home, bound him and forced him to go with them on foot. The people, however, who loved him, followed, armed to see that he came to no harm. He was carried before the sultan, who ordered the executioner to cut off his head. The executioner made Aladdin kneel down, bandaged his eyes, and raised his scimitar to strike. In that instant the vizier, who saw that the crowd had forced their way into the courtyard and was scaling the walls to rescue Aladdin, called to the executioner to stay his hand. The people indeed looked so threatening that the sultan gave way and ordered Aladdin to be unbound and pardoned him in the sight of the crowd. Aladdin now begged to know what he had done. False wretch, said the sultan, come hither, and showed him from the window the place where his palace had stood. Aladdin was so amazed he could not say a word. Here is your palace, and my daughter, demanded the sultan. For the first I am not so deeply concerned, but my daughter I must have, and you must find her or lose your head. Aladdin begged for forty days in which to find her, promising if he failed to return to suffer death at the sultan's pleasure. His prayer was granted, and he went forth, sadly, from the sultan's presence. For three days he wandered about like a madman, asking everyone what had become of his palace. But they only laughed and pitted him. He came to the banks of a river, and knelt down to say his prayers before throwing himself in. In doing so he rubbed the ring his still-war. The genie he had seen in the cave appeared, and asked his will. Save my life, genie, said Aladdin, and bring my palace back. That is not in my power, said the genie. I am only the slave of the ring. You must ask him of the lamp. Even so, said Aladdin, but thou canst take me to the place, and set me down under my dear wife's window. He at once found himself in Africa, under the window of the princess, and fell asleep, out of sheer weariness. He was awakened by the singing of the birds, and his heart was lighter. He saw plainly that all his misfortunes were owing to the loss of the lamp, and vainly wondered who had robbed him of it. That morning the princess rose earlier than she had done since she had been carried into Africa by the magician, whose company she was forced to endure once a day. She, however, treated him so harshly that he dared not live there altogether. As she was dressing, one of her women looked out and saw Aladdin. The princess ran and opened the window, and at the noise she made, Aladdin looked up. She called to him to come to her, and great was the joy of these lovers at seeing each other again. After he had kissed her, Aladdin said, I beg of you, princess, in God's name, before we speak of anything else, for your own sake and mine. Tell me what has become of an old lamp I left on the corners in the hall of four and twenty windows, when I went hunting? Alas! she said, I am the innocent cause of our sorrows, and told him of the exchange of the lamp. Now I know, Crud Aladdin, that we have to thank the African magician for this. Where is the lamp? He carries it about with him, said the princess. I know, for he pulled it out of his breast to show me. He wished me to break my faith with you and marry him, saying that you were beheaded by my father's command. He is forever speaking ill of you, but I only reply by my tears. If I persist, I doubt not, but he will use violence. Aladdin comforted her and left her for a while. He changed clothes with the first person he met in the town, and, having bought a certain powder, returned to the princess, who let him in by a little side door. Put on your most beautiful dress, he said to her, and received the magician with miles, leading him to believe that you have forgotten me. Invite him to sup with you, and say you wish to taste the wine of his country. He will go for some, and while he is gone I will tell you what to do. She listened carefully to Aladdin, and when he left her, arrayed herself gaily for the first time since she left China. She put on a girdle and headdress of diamonds, and, seeing in a glass that she was more beautiful than ever, received the magician, saying to his great amazement, I have made up my mind that Aladdin is dead, and that all my tears will not bring him back to me, so I am resolved to mourn no more, and have therefore invited you to sup with me. But I am tired of the wines of China, and would feint taste those of Africa. The magician flew to his cellar, and the princess put the powder Aladdin had given her in her cup. When he returned, she asked him to drink her health in the wine of Africa, handing him her cup in exchange for his, as a sign she was reconciled to him. Before drinking, the magician made her a speech in praise of her beauty, but the princess cut him short, saying, Let us drink first, and you shall say what you will afterwards. She set her cup to her lips, and kept it there, while the magician drained his to the dregs, and fell back lifeless. The princess then opened the door to Aladdin, and flung her arms round his neck. But Aladdin went to the dead magician, took the lamp out of his vest, and bade the genie carry the palace, and all in it back to China. This was done, and the princess in her chamber felt only two little shocks, and little thought she was home again. The sultan who was sitting in his closet, mourning for his lost daughter, happened to look up, and rubbed his eyes, for there stood the palace as before. He hastened thither, and Aladdin received him in the hall of the four and twenty windows with the princess at his side. Aladdin told him what had happened, and showed him the dead body of the magician that he might believe. A ten-day's feast was proclaimed, and it seemed as if Aladdin might now live the rest of his life in peace, but it was not meant to be. The African magician had a younger brother, who was, if possible, more wicked and more cunning than himself. He travelled to China to avenge his brother's death, and went to visit a pious woman called Fatima, thinking she might be of use to him. He entered her cell and clapped a dagger to her breast, telling her to rise and do his bidding on pain of death. He changed clothes with her, coloured her face like hers, put on her veil, and murdered her, that she might tell no tales. Then he went towards the palace of Aladdin, and all the people thinking he was the holy woman gathered round him kissing his hands and begging his blessing. When he got to the palace there was such a noise going on round him that the princess bade her slave look out the window and ask what was the matter. The slave said it was the holy woman curing people by her touch of their ailments, whereupon the princess, who had long desired to see Fatima, sent for her. On coming to the princess the magician offered up a prayer for her health and prosperity. When he had done the princess made him sit by her and begged him to stay with her always. The false Fatima, who wished for nothing better, consented, but kept his veil down for fear of discovery. The princess showed him the hall and asked him what he thought of it. It is truly beautiful, said the false Fatima. In my mind it wants but one thing. And what is that, said the princess. If only a rox's egg, he replied, were hung up from the middle of this dome. It would be the wonder of the world. After this the princess could think of nothing but the rox's egg. And when Aladdin returned from hunting he found her in a very ill humour. He begged to know what was amiss and she told him that all her pleasure in the hall was spoiled for want of a rox's egg hanging from the dome. If that is all, replied Aladdin, you shall soon be happy. She left her and rubbed the lamp and when the genie appeared commanded him to bring a rox's egg. The genie gave such a loud and terrible shriek that the hall shook. Wretch, he cried, is it not enough that I have done everything for you but you must command me to bring my master and hang him up in the midst of this dome. You and your wife and your palace deserve to be burnt to ashes. But that this request does not come from you but from the brother of the African magician whom you destroyed. He is now in your palace disguised as the holy woman whom he murdered. He it was who put that wish in your wife's head. Take care of yourself for he means to kill you. So saying the genie disappeared. Aladdin went back to the princess saying his head ached and requesting that the holy fatima should be fetched to lay her hands on it. But when the magician came near Aladdin seizing his dagger pierced him to the heart. What have you done? cried the princess. You have killed the holy woman. Not so, replied Aladdin. But a wicked magician and told her of how she had been deceived. After this Aladdin and his wife lived in peace. He succeeded the sultan when he died and reigned for many years leaving behind him a long line of kings. And of Aladdin and the magic lamp. It took a quarter of an hour to reach Manjalas Inn. From there to Upper Popesht was about nine miles at an easy pace that meant one hour and a half. A good hack, if they gave it out at the inn and three quarters of an hour rest, could do it comfortably. That is to say one quarter of an hour and three quarters of an hour made one hour on to Popesht was one hour and a half. That made two and a half. It was past seven already. At ten o'clock at latest I should be with Porkovniky or Dake. I was rather late. I ought to have started earlier, but after all he expected me. I was turning this over in my mind when I saw in the distance a good gunshot length away a great deal of light coming from Manjalas Inn, for it still retained that name. It was now really Madame Manjalas Inn. The husband died some five years ago. What a capable woman. How she had worked, how she had improved the place. They were on the point of selling the inn, while her husband was alive. Since then she had paid off the debts and her repair the house. However she has built a flight of stone steps and everyone said she had a good sum of money too. Some surmised that she had found a hidden treasure, others that she had dealings with the supernatural. Once some robbers attempted an attack upon her. They tried to force a door. One of them, the strongest, a man like a bull, wielded the axe, but when he tried to strike he fell to the ground. They quickly raced him up, he was dead. His brother tried to speak, but could not, he was dumb. There were four of them. They hoisted the dead man on to his brother's back. The other two took his feet, that they might carry him off to bury him somewhere away. As they left to the courtyard of the inn, Madame Manjola began to scream from the window thieves, and in front of her there suddenly appeared the sub-prefect with numerous men and four mounted soldiers. The official shouted, "'Who is there?' Two of the robbers escaped. The dumb man remained behind, with his dead brother on his back. Now what happened at the trial? Everyone knew that Mute had been able to speak. How could anyone doubt that the dead man was shaming? They beat him till he was crazy, to try and make his speech come back. But in vain. Since then the lads had lost all desire to attack the place. While all these was passing through at my mind, I arrived at the inn. A number of carts were waiting in the yard of the inn. Some were carrying timber down the valley, others mace up the hill. It was a raw autumn evening. The drivers were warming themselves round the fire. It was the light from the latter that had been visible so far away, and Osler took my horse in charge to give him some oats in the stable. I entered the taproom where good many men were drinking, while two sleepy gypsies, one with a lute and one with a zitter, were playing monotonously in a corner. I was hungry and cold. The damp had pierced through me. "'Where's your mistress?' I asked the boy behind the bar, by the kitchen fire. "'It ought to be warmer there,' I said, and passed through the vestibule out of the taproom into the kitchen. It was very clean in the kitchen, and the smell was not like that in the taproom, of fur and boots and damp shoes. There was a smell of new-made bread. Madam Manzala was looking after the oven. "'Well met, Mrs. Margala. Welcome, Mr. Fonica. Is there a chance of getting anything to eat? Up to midnight even, for respectable people like yourself.' Mrs. Margala quickly gave orders to one of the servants to lay a table in the next room, and then, going up to the hearth, said, "'Look, choose for yourself.' Mrs. Margala was beautiful, well-built, and fascinating, that I knew, but never since I had known her, and I had known her for a long time, for I had passed Manzala's in many a time when my dead father was alive, as the road to the town led by it. Had she appeared to me more attractive. I was young, smart, and daring, much more daring than smart. I came up, on her left side, as she was bending over the hearth, and took her by the waist. With my hand I took hold of her right arm, which was an harder siren, and the devil tempted me to give it a pinch. "'Have you got nothing to do?' said the woman, looking at me askance. "'But I, to cover,' my blunder said. "'What marvellous eyes you have, Mrs. Margala!' "'Don't try it and flatter me. You had better tell me what to give you.' "'Give me, give me, give me yourself.' "'Really?' "'Indeed, you have marvellous eyes, Mrs. Margala, sighing.' "'Supposing your father-in-law heard you.' "'What father-in-law? What do you mean by that?' "'You think because you hide yourself under your cap that nobody sees what you do. "'Aren't you going to go cov'nik o' your ducky to engage yourself to his eldest daughter?' "'Come, don't look at me like that. Go into the next room to dinner.' I had seen many clean and quiet rooms in the course of my life, but a room like that one. What a bed, what curtains, what walls, what a ceiling, all white as milk, and the lampshade and all those crochet things of every kind and shape, and the worms like being under a hand's wing and the smell of apples and quinces. I was about to seat myself at the table, when, according to a habit I had acquired in my childhood, I turned to bow towards the east. I looked carefully, round, all along the walls, not an icon to be seen. "'What are you looking for?' said Mrs. Margala. "'Your icons. Where do you keep them?' "'There's the icons. They only breed worms and wood-lice. What a cleanly woman. I seated myself at the table and crossed myself as I was my cousin, when suddenly there was a yell. It appeared that with the heel of my boot I had trodden upon an old tomcat which was under the table. Mrs. Margala jumped up quickly and undid the outside door. The injured cat made a bound outside while the cold air rushed into the extinguished lamp. She groped about four of the matches. I searched here, she searched there. We met face to face in the dark. I, very bold, took her in my arms and began to kiss her. The lady now resisted, now yelled it. Her cheeks were burning, her mouth was cold, soft and unfluttered about three years. At last the servant arrived with a tray with vines, on it and a light. We must have hunted some time for the matches, for the chimney of the lamp was quite cold. I lit it again. What excellent food, hot bread, roast duck with cabbage, boiled veal sausages and wine and Turkish coffee and laughter and conversation. Good luck to Mrs. Margala. After coffee she said to the old maid servant, Tell them to bring out a half bottle of moscadine. That wonderful old wine, a sort of lager seized by every limb, I sat on one side of the bed, training the last amber drops from my glass, and smoking a cigarette, while through the cold of tobacco smoke I watched Mrs. Margala, who sat on a chair opposite rolling cigarettes for me. I said, Indeed, Mrs. Margala, you have marvelous eyes. Do you know what? What? Would it trouble you to make me another cup of coffee? Not quite so sweet at this. How she loved. When the maid brought the coffee-pot, she said, Madam, you sit talking here, you don't know what it is like outside. What is it? A high wind has got up, and there is a storm coming. I jumped to my feet and looked at the time. It was nearly a quarter to eleven. At the end of half an hour, I had been at the inn for two hours and a half. That's what comes when one begins to talk. Let someone get my horse. Who? The Oslers have gone to bed. I will go to the stable myself. They have bewitched you with a pock of nickel, said the lady, with a ripple of laughter, as she bared my passage through the door. I put her gently on one side and went out on to the veranda. It was indeed a dreadful night. The driver's fires had died down. Men and animals were sleeping on the straw, lying one against the other on the ground, while above them the wind howled wildly. There is a great storm, said Mrs. Margola, shuddering as she seized me firmly by the hand. You are mad to start in such a weather. Stay the night here. Start a daybreak to-morrow. That's impossible. I forcibly withdrew my hand. I proceeded to the stables. With great difficulty I roused on Osler and found out my horse. I tightened the girth, fastened the horse to the steps, and then went to the room to bid my hostess good night. The woman, immersed in thought, was sitting on the bed with my cap in her hand. She was turning and twisting at about. How much have I to pay? I asked. You can't pay me when you come back, replied my hostess, looking intently into the lining of my cap. And then she rose to her feet and held it out to me. I took the cap and put it on my head, rather on one side. I said, looking straight into the woman's eyes, which seemed to shine most strangely. I kiss your eyes, Mrs. Margola. A safe journey to you. I threw myself into the saddle. The old servant opened the gate for me, and out I rode. Resting my left hand on my horse's flank, I turned to my head round. Over the top of the fence could be seen the open door of the room, and in the opening I was outlined the white figure of the woman with her hand above her arched eyebrows. I rode at a slow pace, whistling a gay song to myself until I turned the corner of the fence to get to the road, when the picture was hidden from my sight. I said to myself, here go, and the cross to myself. At that moment I plainly heard the banging of a door and the mew of a cat. My hostess, unable to see me any longer, went hastily back into the worms and doubtless caught the cat in the door. That damn cat! It was always getting on the people's feet. I had gone a good part of the way. The storm increased and shook me in the saddle. Overhead, cloud after cloud hurried across the valley and above the hill, as though in fear of chastisement from one high. Now masked together now disappeared, they revealed, at lock intervals, the pale light of the waning moon. The damp cold pierced through me. I felt it paralyzing legs and arms. As I rode with head bent to avoid the bofting of the wind, I began to feel pains in my neck. My forehead and temples were burning and there was a drumming in my ears. I have drunk too much, I thought to myself, and I pushed my cap on to the nape of my neck and raised my forehead towards the sky. But the willing clouds made me dizzy. I felt a burning sensation below my left rib. I drew in a deep breath of cold air and the knife seemed to drive route through my chest. I tucked my chin down again. My cap seemed to squeeze my head like a vice. I took it off and placed it on the point of my saddle. I felt ill. It was foolish of me to have started. Everybody would be asleep at Balcony Cuyordaki. They would not have expected me. They would not have imagined that I should be silly enough to start in such a weather. I urged on my horse which staggered as though it too had been drinking. The wind had sunk. The rain had ceased. It was misty. It began to grow dark and to jizzle. I put my cap on again. Suddenly the blood began to beat against my temples. The horse was quite done, exhausted by the violence of the wind. I dug my heels into him. I gave him a cut with my whip. The animal took a few hasty paces, then snorted and strew still on the spot as though he had seen some unexpected obstacle in front of him. I looked. I really saw a few paces in front of the horse, a teeny creature jumping and skipping. An animal. What could it be? A wild beast. It was a very small one. I put my hand to my revolver, then I clearly had the bleed of a kid. I urged on the horse as much as I could. It turned strained round and started to go back. A few paces forward, and again it stood snorting. The kid again. The horse stopped. It turned round. I gave it some cuts with the whip and tightened the curb. It moved forward, a few paces. The kid again. The clouds has disappeared. One could see now as clearly as possible. It was a little black kid. Now it strotted forward. Now it turned back. It flung out its hooves and finally reared itself on to its hind legs and ran about with its little beard in front and its head ready to butt, making wonderful bounce and playing every kind of wild antique. I cut off my horse, which would not advance for the world and took reins up short. I bent down to the ground. Come, come, I called the kid, with my hand as though I wanted to give it some brim. The kid approached, jumping continually. The horse nodded madly. It tried to break away. I went down on my knees, but I held the horse firmly. The kid came close up to my hand. It was a dear little black buck, which allowed itself to be petted and lifted up. I put it in the bag, on the right side among some clothes. At that moment the horse was convulsed and shook in every limb as thou in its death throws. I remounted. The horse started off like a mad thing. For some time it went like the wing of a ditches, over mall hills, over bushes, without my being able to stop it, without my knowing where I was or being able to guess where it was taking me. Turing this wild cheese, when at any moment I might have broken my neck, with body froze and hand on fire, I thought of the comfortable heaven I had so stupidly left. Why? Mrs. Margola would have given me her room, otherwise she would not have invited me. The kid was moving in the bag, trying to make itself more comfortable. I looked towards it. With its intelligent little head stuck out of the bag, it was peering wisely at me. The fout over now the pair of eyes flashed through my mind, with the fool I had been. The horse stumbled. I stopped him forcibly. He tried to move on again, but sank to his knees. Suddenly, through an opening of the clothes, appeared the weaning moon, shining on the side of a slope. The sight of it struck me all over hip. It was in front of me. There were there two moons in the sky. I was going uphill, the moon ought to be behind me. I turned my head quickly to see the real moon. I had missed my way. I was going downhill. Where was I? I looked ahead, a maze filled with uncut stocks. Behind me lay open field. I crossed myself and pressing my horse with my very legs. I tried to help him rise. Just then I felt a violent blow on my right foot, a cry. I had kicked the kid. I put my hand quickly into the bag. The bag was wenty. I had lost the kid on the road. The horse rose, shaking its head, as though it were giddy. I reared on to his legs hurled itself on one side and threw me to the other. Finally, he tore away like a thin possessed and disappeared into the darkness. By the time I got up, much shaken, I could hear rustle among the maze, and close by came the sound of a man's voice saying clearly, Hi, hi, may heaven remove you. Who is there, I called, an honest man? Who? Gargay. Which Gargay? Not true Gargay. Not true, who watches the maze fills. Aren't you coming this way? Yes, here I come. And the figure of man became visible among the maze. May I ask, brother Gargay, where we are at this moment? I have missed my way in the storm. Where do you want to go through? To Upper Popeshti, to Pokomniku, your dake, that's it. In that case, you have not missed your road. You'll have some trouble to get to Popeshti. You are only at Hakkuleshti here. At Hakkuleshti, I said joyfully, then I am close to Mangala's inn. Look there, we are at the back of the stables. Come and show me the way to that. I don't just go and break my neck. I had been wandering about for four hours. A few steps brought us to the inn. This Mangala's room was lit up, and shadows moved across the curtain. Who knew what other wiser travel had enjoyed that bad. I should have to rest content with some bench by the kitchen fire. But what luck? As I knocked, someone heard me. The old maid servant hurried to open to me. As I entered, I stumbled over something, soft on the threshold. A kid. Did you ever? It was my hostess kid. It too entered the room and went and laid down comfortably under the bed. What was I to say? Didn't even know I had returned or had she got up very early. The bed was made. Mrs. Mangala, so much I was able to say. Wishing to thank God that I had escaped with my life, I started to raise my right hand to my head. The lady quickly seized my hand and, pulling it down, drew me with all her strength into her arms. I can still see that room. What a bed. What curtains. What walls. What a ceiling. All white as milk. And the lampshade and all those crochet things of every kind and shape. And the worms, like being under a hand's wing, and the small apples and quinces. I should have stayed a long time at Mangala's inn. If my father-in-law, Porkovnik Yodaki, God forgive him, had not fetched me away by force. Three times I fled from him before the marriage and returned to the inn until the old man, who at all cost wanted me for a son-in-law, set men to catch me and take me packed to a little monastery in the mountains. Forty days of fasting, ten flexions and prayers. I left it quite repentant. I got engaged and I married. Only lately, one clear winter's night, while my father-in-law and I were sitting talking together, as in the custom of the country, in front of a flag and a wine, we heard from a prophet who arrived from the town where he had been making some purchases, but during the day there had been a big fire at her college. Mangala's inn had been burned to the ground, burying poor Mrs. Margola, who thus met her end under a gigantic funeral pyre. And so, at the last, the sorceress was thrown on the bonfire, said my father-in-law, laughing. And I began to tell the above story, for at least the hundredth time, Pocomico maintained, among the other things, that the lady put a charm into the lining of my cap, and that the kid and the cat were one and the same. Maybe, I said, she was the devil, listen to me. She may have been, I replied, but if that it is so, then the devil, it seems, led to the good. At first it seemed to be good to catch one, but later it sees where it leads on. How do you know all this? That's not your business, replied the old man. That's another story. End of Mangala's Inn by I. L. Karajale. Blizz by Catherine Mansfield Although Bertha Young was thirty, she still had moments like this when she wanted to run instead of walk, to take dancing steps on and off the pavement, to bow her hoop, to throw something up in the air when catch it again, or to stand still and laugh at nothing, at nothing simply. What can you do if you are thirty, and turning the corner of your own street? You are overcome, suddenly, by a feeling of bliss, absolute bliss, as if though you'd subtly swallowed a bright piece of that late afternoon sun, and it burned in your bosom, sending out a little shower of sparks into every particle, into every finger and toe. Oh, is there no way you can express it without being drunk and disorderly? How idiotic civilisation is! Why be given a body if you have to keep it shut up in a case like a rare, rare fiddle? No, that about the fiddle is not quite what I mean, she thought, running up the steps and feeling in her back for the key, she'd forgotten it as usual, and rattling the letterbox. It's not what I mean because, thank you, Mary, she went into the hall. Is nurse back? Yes, ma'am. And has the fruit come? Yes, ma'am, everything's come. Bring the fruit up to the dining-room, will you? I'll arrange it before I go upstairs. It was dusky in the dining-room and quite chilly, but all the same birthday threw off a coat. She could not bear the tight glass of it another moment, and the cold air fell on her arms. But in her bosom there was still that bright, glowing place, the shower of littered sparks coming from it. It was almost unbearable. She hardly dared to breathe for fear of banning it higher, and yet she breathed deeply, deeply. She hardly dared to look into the court-mirror, but she did look, and it gave her back a woman radiant with her smiling, trembling lips, with her big, dark eyes and an air of flistening, waiting for something divine to happen that she knew must happen infallibly. Mary brought in the fruit on a tray, and with it a glass bowel and a blue dish, very lovely, with a strange sheen on it, as though it had been dipped in milk. Shall I turn on the light-map? No, thank you. I can see quite well. There were tangerines and apples stained with a strawberry pink, some yellow pears, smooth as silk, some white grapes covered with a silver bloom, and a big cluster of purple ones. These last she had brought to tone in with new dining-room carpet. Yes, the did sound rather far-fetched and absurd, but it was really why she had bought them. She had a thought in the shop. I must have some purple ones to bring the carpet up to the table, and it had seemed quite centre to time. When she had finished with them, and had made two pyramids of these bright round shapes, she stood away from the table to get the effect, and it really was most curious, for the dark table seemed to melt into the dusk light, and the glass dish and the blue bowel to float in the air. This, of course, in the present mood, was so incredibly beautiful. She began to laugh. No, no, I'm getting hysterical, and she seized her bag and coat, and ran upstairs to the nursery. Nurse set at a low table, giving Little Pee her supper after her bath. The baby had on a white flannel gown and a blue woolen jacket, and a dark fine hair was brushed up into a funny little peak. She looked up when she saw her mother and began to jump. Now, my lovely, eat it up like a good girl," said Nurse, setting her lips in a way that Bertha knew, that meant she had come into the nursery at another wrong moment. I should be good, Nanny. She's been a letter sweet all the afternoon," whispered Nanny. We went to the park, and I sat down on a chair, and took her out of the bram, and a big dog came along and put its head on my knee, and she clutched its ear, tucked it. Oh, you should have seen her. Bertha wanted to ask if it wasn't rather dangerous to let her clutch at a strange dog's ear, but she did not dare to. She stood watching them, her hands by her side, like the poor little girl in front of the rich little girl with the doll. The baby looked up at her again, stared, and then smiled so charmingly that Bertha couldn't help crying. Oh, Nanny, do let me finish giving her her supper while you put the bath things away. Well, ma'am, she oughtn't to be changed hands while she's eating," said Nanny, still whispering. It unsettles her. It's very likely to upset her. How absurd it was! Why have a baby, if it has to be kept not in a case like a rare rare fiddle, but in another woman's arms? Oh, I must," said she. Very offended Nanny handed her over. Now, don't excite her after her supper. You know you do, ma'am, and I have such a time with her after. Thank heaven, Nanny went out of the room with the bath towels. Now, I've got you to myself, my little precious," said Bertha, as a baby leaned against her. She ate delightfully, holding up her lips for the spoon, and then waving her hands. Sometimes she wouldn't let the spoon go, and sometimes, just as Bertha had filled it, she waved it away to the full winds. When the soup was finished, Bertha turned round to the fire. You're nice. You're very nice," said she, kissing a warm baby. I'm fond of you. I like you. And indeed, she loved Little Bee so much, her neck as she bent forward, her exquisite toes as they shun transparent in the firelight, that all her feeling of bliss came back again, and again she doesn't know how to express it, what to do with it. You're wanted on the telephone," said Nanny, coming back in drive and seating her, Little Bee. Down she flew. It was Harry. Oh, is it you, Burr? Look here, I'll be late. I'll take a taxi and come along as quickly as I can. But get dinner, put back ten minutes, will you, all right? Yes, perfectly. Oh, Harry! Yes. What had she to say? She'd nothing to say. She only wanted to get in touch with him for a moment. She couldn't absurdly cry. Hasn't it been a divine day? What is it? repped out the little voice. Nothing. Antondou, said Bertha, and hung up the receiver, thinking how more than idiotic civilization was. They had people coming to dinner. The Norman Knight, a very sound couple, he was about to start a theatre, and she was awfully keen on interior decoration. A young man, Eddie Warren, who had just published a little book of poems, at whom everybody was asking to dine, and a find of Bertha's, called Pearl Filton. What Miss Fulton did, Bertha didn't know. They had met at a club, and Bertha had fallen in love with her, and she always did fall in love with beautiful women who had something strange about them. The provoking thing was that, though they had been about together and met a number of times and really talked, Bertha couldn't yet make her out. Up to a certain point, Miss Fulton was a really wonderfully frank, but the certain point wasn't there, and beyond that she would not go. Was there anything beyond it? Harry said no, voted a dullish and called like all blonde women, with the touch perhaps of anemia of the brain. But Bertha wouldn't agree with him, not yet, at any rate. No. The way she has of sitting with her head a little on one side, and smiling, has something behind it, Harry, and I must find out what that something is. Most likely it's a good stomach, answered Harry. He made a point of catching Bertha's heels with replies of that kind. A liver-frozen, my dear girl, or pure flatulence, or kidney disease, and so on. For some strange reason Bertha liked this, and almost admired it in him very much. She went into the drawing-room and lighted the fire. Then, picking up the cushions one by one that Harry had disposed so carefully, she threw them back onto the chairs and the couches. That made all the difference. The room came alive at once, and she was about to throw the last one she surprised herself by suddenly hugging into her, passionately, passionately. But it did not put out the fire in her bosom. Oh, on the contrary! The windows of the drawing-room opened onto a balcony overlooking the garden. At the far end, against the wall, there was a tall, slender peatry of fuller's wretched bloom. It stood perfect, as if they'd be calmed against a jade-green sky. Bertha couldn't help feeling, even from this distance, that it had not a single but a refaded petal. Down below in the garden-beds, the red and yellow tulips, heavy with flowers, seemed to lean upon the dusk. A grey cat, dragging its belly, crapped across the lawn, and a black one, its shadow, trailed after. The size of them, so intent and so quick, would give Bertha curious shiver. What creepy things cats are! she stammered, and she turned away from the window and began walking up and down. Oh, how strong the junk-well smelt in the warm-room. Too strong? Oh, no! And yet, as it though overcome, she flung down on a couch and pressed her hands to her eyes. I'm too happy. Too happy! she murmured, and she seemed to see on her eyelids the lovely peatry, with its wide-open blossoms as a symbol of her own life. Really? Really, she had everything. She was young, hairy, and she were as much in love as ever, and they got on together splendidly, and were really good pals. She had an adorable baby. They didn't have to worry about money. They had this absolutely satisfactory housing garden, and friends, modern, thrilling friends, writers and painters and poets, or people keen on social questions, just the kind of friends they wanted. And then there were books, and there was music, and she had found a wonderful little dressmaker. They were going abroad in the summer, and their new cook made the most superb omelettes. I'm absurd, absurd! She set up, but she felt quite dizzy, quite drunk. It must have been the spring. Yes, it was the spring. Now, she was so tired, she could not drag herself upstairs to dress. A white dress, a string of jade beads, green shoes and stockings. It wasn't intentional. She had thought of this scheme hours before she stood at the drawing-room window. Her paddles rassled softly into the hall, and she kissed Mrs. Norman Knight, who was taking off the most amusing orange coat with the procession of black monkeys around to hem and up the bronze. Why? Why? Why is the middle class so starchy, so utterly without sense of humour? My dear, it's only by a fluke that I'm here at all. Norman being the protective fluke. For my darling monkey so upset the train that it rose to a man and simply ate me with its eyes. Did laugh? Was it amused? That I should have laughed. No, just stared, and bought me through and through. But the cream of it was, as did Norman pressing a large tortoise-shell-rimmed monocle into his eye. You don't mind me telling this face, do you? The home-men, among their friends, they called each other face and mug. The cream of it was, when she, being full-fed, turned to the woman beside her and said, Haven't you ever seen a monkey before? Oh, yes! Mrs. Norman Knight joined him the laughter. Wasn't that too absolutely creamy? And the funniest thing still was, that now her coat was off, she did look like a very intelligent monkey, who had even made that yellow silk dress out of scraped banana skins, and a ramblee rings, they were like little dangling nuts. This is a sad, sad fall, said Mark, pausing in front of Little Bee's perambulator. When the perambulator comes into the hall, and you wave the rest of the quotation away, this is a sad, sad fall, said Mark, pausing in front of Little Bee's perambulator, when the perambulator comes into the hall, and you wave the rest of the quotation away. The hall rang. It was lean pale Eddie Warren, as usual, in the seat of acute distress. It is the right house, isn't it? he pleaded. Oh, I think so. I hope so! said Bertha Brightley. I have had such a trutful experience of its attack, Sir Man. It was most sinister. I couldn't get him to stop the morrow knocked and called the faster he went, and in the moonlight this bizarre figure with a flattant hat crouching over the little wheel. He shuddered, taking off an immense white silk scarf. Bertha noticed that her socks were white, too, most charming. But how dreadful she cried! Yes, it really was, said Eddie, following her into the drawing-room. I saw myself driving through the eternity in a timeless taxi. He knew the Norman Knights. In fact, he was going to write a play for N.K. when the theatre scheme came off. Well, Warren, how's the play? said Norman Knight, dropping his monocle and giving his eye a moment in which it to rise to the surface before it was cooled down again. And Mrs. Norman Knight. Oh, Mr. Warren, what happy socks! I am so glad you like them, said he, staring at his feet. They seem to have got so much whiter since the moon rose, and he turned his lean sorrowful young face to Bertha. There is the moon, you know. She wanted to cry. I'm sure there is, often, often. He really was the most attractive person, but Toa's face crouched before the fire in a banana skin, and Toa was mocked, smoking in secret, and saying as he flicked the ash, why doth the bridegroom tarry? There he is now. Bang! went upon to open and shut. Harry shouted, Hello, you people, down in five minutes! And they heard him swarm up the stairs. Bertha couldn't help smiling. She knew how he loved doing things at high pressure. What, after all, did the next five minutes matter? But he would pretend to himself that they mattered beyond matter. And then he would make great point of coming into the drawing-room extravagantly cool and collected. Harry had such a zest for life over how she appreciated it in him, and his passion for fighting, for seeking in everything that came up against him, and not the test of his power and of his courage. That too, she understood, even when it made him just occasionally to other people who didn't know him well, a little ridiculous, perhaps, but there were moments when he rushed into battle where no battle was. She talked and laughed, and positively forgotten till he had come in, just as she had imagined, that Pearl Fulton had not turned up. I wonder if Miss Fulton has forgotten? I expect so, said Harry. Is she on the phone? Ah, there's a taxi now! And Bertha smiled with that little air of proprietorship that she always assumed while her women finds were new and mysterious. She lives in taxis. She run too fast, if she does, to tarry coolly ringing the bell for dinner, prideful danger for blonde women. Harry, don't! Warned Bertha, laughing up at him. Came another tiny moment while they waited, laughing and talking, just a trifle too much at their ease, a trifle too unaware. Then Miss Fulton, all in silver, with a silver fillet binding her pale blonde hair, came in smiling, her hat a little on one side. Am I late? No, not at all, said Bertha. Come along! And she took her arm and they moved into the dining room. What was there in the touch of that cool arm that could fan? Fans start blazing, blazing the fire of bliss if Bertha did not know what to do with. Miss Fulton did not look at her, but then she seldom did look at people directly. Her heavy eyelids lay upon her eyes and the strange half-smile came and went upon her lips as though she lived by listening rather than seeing. But Bertha knew, suddenly, as if the longest, most intimate look had passed between them, as if they had said to each other, You too, that pale Fulton, staring the beautiful red soup in the grey plate, was feeling just what she was feeling. And the others, base and mug, Addy and Harry, the spoons rising and falling, dubbing their lips with their napkins, crumbling bread, fiddling with the forks and glasses and talking. I met her at the Alpha show, the weirdest little person. She not only cut off her hair, but she seemed to have taken a crutch-fully good step off her legs and arms and her neck and her poor little nose as well. Isn't she very liais with Michael Ode? The man who wrote a laugh and false teeth. He wants a right to play for me, one act, one man, decided to commit suicide, with all the reasons why he should and why he shouldn't. And just as he made up his mind, I said to do it or not to do it, curtain. Not half a bad idea. What's his going to call it? Stomach-troll? I think I have come across the same idea in a little French review, quite unknown in England. No, they didn't share it. There were deers, deers, and she loved having them there at the table and giving them delicious food and wine. In fact, she longed to tell them how delightful they were and what decorative group they made, how they seemed to set one another off and how they reminded her of a play by Chekhov. Harry was enjoying his dinner. It was part of his, well, not his nature, exactly, and certainly not his pose, his something or a rather to talk about food and to glory in his shameless passion for the white pleasure of the lobster and the cream of pistachio's ice is green and cold like the eyelids of Egyptian dancers. When he looked up at her and said, Bertha, this is a very admirable sifli. She almost could have wept with a childlike pleasure. Oh, why did she feel so tender towards the whole world tonight? Everything was good, was right. All that happened seemed to fill again her ringing cup of blizz. And still, the back of her mind, there was a pear tree. It would be silver now in the light of poor dear Reddy's moon. Silver as Miss Fulton sat there turning a tangerine in the slender fingers that were so pale, a light seemed to come from them. What she simply couldn't make out, what was miraculous, was how she should have guessed Miss Fulton's mood so exactly and so instantly. Well, she never doubted for a moment that she was right. And yet, what had she to go on? Lesson than nothing. I believe this does happen very, very rarely between women, never between men, thought Bertha. But while I am making the coffee in the drawing-room, perhaps she will give a sign. What she meant by that she did not know. What would happen after that she could not imagine. While she thought like this, she saw herself talking and laughing. She had to talk because of her desire to laugh. I must laugh or die. But when she noticed Fase's funny little habit of tucking something down the front of her bodies, as if she kept tiny secret hordes of nuts at their two, Bertha had to dick her nails into her hands so as not to laugh too much. It was over at last. And come and see my new coffee machine, said Bertha. We only have a new coffee machine once a fortnight. Said Harry. Fase took her arm this time. Miss Fulton bent her head and followed after. The fire had died down in the drawing-room to a red flickering nest of baby phoenixes, said Fase. Don't turn up the light for a moment. It is so lovely. And down she crouched by the fire again. She was always called without her little red flannel jacket, of course, thought Bertha. At that moment Miss Fulton gave the sign. Have you, garden? said the cool sleepy voice. This was so exquisite on her part that all Bertha could do was to obey. She crossed a room, pulled the curtains apart, and opened those long windows. There! she breathed. The two women stood side by side, looking at a slender flowering tree. Although it was so still, it seemed like the flame of a candle to stretch up, to point, to quiver in the bright air, to grow tall as a gazed, almost to touch the rim of the round, sunful moon. How long did they stand there? Both, as it were, caught in that circle of unearthly light, understanding each other perfectly. Creatures of another world and wondering what they were to do in this one, with all this blissful treasure that burned in their bosoms and dropped in silver flowers from their hair and hands. Forever, for a moment? And did Miss Fulton murmur, Yes, just that, or did Bertha dream it? Then the light of snaps on and face made the coffee and Harry said, My dear Mrs. Knight, don't ask me about my baby, I never see her. I shan't feel the slightest interest in her until she has a lover. And Mark took his eye out of the conservatory for a moment and then put it on the glass again. And Eddie Warren drank his coffee and sat down the cup with the face of anguish as if they were drunk and seemed the spider. What I want to do is to give the young man a show. I believe Lundy is simply teeming with first-job unwritten plays. What I want to say to her, Miss, here's the theatre, fire ahead. You know, my dear, I'm going to decorate the room for the Jacob and Nathan's. Oh, I'm so tempted to do a fried-fishing scheme with the backs of the chairs, shaped like frying pans and lovely chipped potatoes and roided all over the curtains. The trouble with our young writing men is that they are still too romantic. You can't put out to sea without being seasick and wanting a basin. Well, why won't they have the courage of those basins? A dreadful poem about a girl who was violated by a beggar without a nose in a little wood. Miss Fulton sank into the lowest, deepest chair and Harry handed round the cigarettes. From the way he stood in front of her, shaking the silver box and saying abruptly, Egyptian, Turkish, Virginian, they're all mixed up. Bethy realised that she not only bored him, he really disliked her. And she decided from the way Miss Fulton said, No, thank you, I won't smoke. That she felt it too and was hurt. Oh, Harry, don't dislike her. You're quite wrong about her. She's wonderful, wonderful. And besides, how can you feel so differently about someone who means so much to me? I shall try to tell you when we are in bed tonight what has been happening, what she and I have shared. At those last words, something strange and almost terrifying darted into Beth's mind. And there's something blind and smiling whisper to her. Soon these people will go. The house will be quiet, quiet. The lights will be out. A UNT will be alone to catch rent the dark room. The warm bed. She jumped from her chair and ran over to the piano. What a petty someone doesn't play! She cried. What a petty somebody doesn't play! For the first time in her life, Beth a young desired her husband. Oh, she'd loved him. She'd been in love with him, of course, in every other way. But just not that way. And equally, of course, she'd understood it that he was different. They'd discuss it so often. It had worried her dreadfully at first to find that she was so cold. But after a time, it had not seemed to matter. They were so frank with each other. Such good pals! That was the best of being modern. But now, ardently, ardently, the words ached in her ardent body was this what that feeling of bliss had been leading up to. But then, My dear, said Mrs. Norman Knight, You know our shame. We are victims of time and train. We live in Hampstead. It's been so nice. I'll come with you into the hall, said Bertha. I loved having you. But you must not miss last train. That's awful, isn't it? Have a whisky night, before you go. Called Harry. No, thanks, old chap. Bertha squeezed his hand for that as she shook it. Good night. Goodbye. She cried from the top steps, feeling that the self of hers was taking leave of them forever. When she got back into the drawing-room, the others were on the move. There you can go part of the way in my taxi. I shall be so thankful not to have to face another drive alone after my dreadful experience. You can get a taxi at the rang just yet off the street. You won't have to walk more than a few yards. That's a comfort. I go and put on my coat. Miss Fulton moved towards the hall, and Bertha was following, and Harry almost pushed past. Let me help you. Bertha knew he was repenting his rudeness. She let him go. What a boy he was in some ways. So impulsive, so simple. And Eddie and she were left by the fire. I wonder if you have seen Bertha's new poem called Tabledut. Said Eddie softly. It's so wonderful. In the last anthology, have you got a copy? I'd so like to show it to you. It begins with an incredibly beautiful line. Why must always be tomato soup? Yes, said Bertha. And she moved noiselessly to a table opposite the drawing-room door. And Eddie glided noiselessly after her. She picked up the little book and gave it to him. They had not made a sound. While he looked it up, she turned her head towards the hall. And she saw Harry with Miss Fulton's coat in his arms, and Miss Fulton with her back turned to him and her head bent. He tossed the coat away, put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her violently to him. Miss Fulton said, I adore you, and Miss Fulton later wound between fingers on his cheeks and smiled a sleepy smile. Harry's nostrils quivered. Miss Fulton called back in a hazy grin while he whispered, tomorrow, and with her eyelids Miss Fulton said, Yes. Here it is, said Eddie. Why must always be tomato soup? It's deeply true, don't you feel? Tomato soup is so incredibly eternal. If you prefer, said Harry's voice very loud from the hall, I can phone you a cab to come to the door. Oh, no. It's not necessary, said Miss Fulton. She came up to Bertha and gave her a slender finger to hold. Goodbye. Thank you so much. Goodbye, said Bertha. Miss Fulton held her hand a moment longer. Your lovely pear tree, she mammered, and then she was gone with Eddie following like the black cat following the grey cat. I'll shut up shop, said Harry, extravagantly cool and collected. Your lovely pear tree. Pear tree. Pear tree. Bertha simply ran over to the long windows. Oh, what's going to happen now? She cried. The pear tree was as lovely as ever and as full of flower and as still. End of bliss. Recording by Shaleefa Malikhan. The Cook's Wedding by Anton Chekhov. Translated by Konstantz Garnet. This is a LibroVox recording. All LibroVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibroVox.org. Recording by Vlad Shulov. The Cook's Wedding by Anton Chekhov. Translated by Konstantz Garnet. Grisha, a fat, solemn little person of seven, was standing by the kitchen door listening and peeping through the keyhole. In the kitchen, something extraordinary and in his opinion, never seen before, was taking place. A big, thick set, a red-haired peasant with a beard and a drop of perspiration on his nose wearing a capman's full coat was sitting at the kitchen table on which they chopped the meat and sliced the onions. He was balancing a saucer on the five fingers of his right hand and drinking tea out of it and crunching sugar so loudly that it sent a shiver down Grisha's back. Aksenia Stepanovna, the old nurse, was sitting on the dirty stool facing him while he was drinking tea. Her face was gray, so at the same time it peamed with a kind of triumph. Pilagia, the cook, was busy at the stall and was apparently trying to hide her face. And on her face Grisha saw a regular illumination. It was burning and shifting through every shade of color, beginning with crimson purple and ending with desly white. She was continually catching hold of knives, forks, bits of woods and wrecks trembling hands, moving, crumbling to herself, making a clatter, but in reality doing nothing. She did not once glance at the table at which they were drinking tea and to the question put to her by the nurse she craved jerky, silent answers without turning her face. Help yourself, Daniela Semyonich, the nurse, urged him hospitably. Why do you keep one with tea and nothing but tea? You should have a drop of vodka. A nurse put before the visitor a bottle of vodka and a wine glass, while her face wore a very wily expression. I never touch it. No, said the cabman, declining. Don't press me, Aksyaniya Stepanovna. What a man, a cabman and not drink. A bachelor cannot get on without drinking. Help yourself. The cabman looked at us at the bottle, then at nurse's wily face and his own face assumed an expression no less cunning as much as to say you won't catch me, you old witch. I don't drink, please excuse me. Such a weakness does not do in our calling. A man who works at a trade may drink, for he sits at home. But we cabmen are always in a view of the public, aren't we? If one goes into a pothouse, one finds one's horse gone. If one takes a drop too much, it is worse still. Before you know where you are, you will fall asleep, or sleep off the box. That's where it is. And how much do you make a day, Danil Semyonich? That's a quartering. One day you will have a fair for three rubbles and another day you will come back to the yards without the forcing. The days are very different. Nowadays our business is no good. There are lots and lots of cabmen, as you know. Haste here, and folks are partially nowadays and always contriving to go by tram. And yet, thank God, I have nothing to complain of. I have plenty to eat and good clothes to wear. And we could even provide well for another. The cabmen stole a glance at Pelagea if it were to the liking. Grisha did not hear what was said further. His mama came to the door and sent him to the nursery to learn his lessons. Go and learn your lesson. It's not your business to listen here. When Grisha reached the nursery, he put my own book in front of him, but he did not get on with his reading. All that he had just seen and heard aroused a multitude of questions in his mind. The cook's going to be married, he thought. Strange, I don't understand what people get married for. Mama was married to papa, cousin Verichka to Pavel Andreiich, but one might be married to papa and Pavel Andreiich after all. They have gold watch chains and nice suits. Their boots are always polished, but to marry said dreadful cabman with a red nose and felt boots. And why it is Norse wants poor Pelagea to be married? When the visitor had gone out of the kitchen, Pelagea appeared and began clearing away. Her agitation still persisted. Her face was red and looked scared. She scarcely touched the floor with the broom and swept every corner five times over. She lingered for a long time in the room where mama was sitting. She was evidently oppressed by her isolation and she was longing to express herself, to share her impression with someone to open her heart. He's gone, she muttered, seeing that mama would not begin the conversation. One can see he's a good man, said mama, not taking her eyes off her swing, sober and steady. I declare I won't marry him, mistress, Pelagea cried suddenly, flushing crimson. I declare I won't. Don't be silly. You are not a child. It's a serious step. You must think it over thoroughly. It's no use talking nonsense. Do you like him? What an idea, mistress, cried Pelagea, abashed. They say such things that, my goodness, she should say she doesn't like him, thought Grisha. What an affected creature you are. Do you like him? But he is old, mistress. Think of something else, Norse flew out at her from the next room. He has not reached his forties year and what do you want a young man for? Handsome is as handsome does. Marry him and that's all about it. I swear I won't, squealed Pelagea. You are talking nonsense. What sort of rascal do you want? Anyone else would have bowed down to his feet and you declare you won't marry him? You want to be always winking at the postmen and tutors. The tutors that used to come to Grishka, mistress, she was never tried of making eyes at him. All the shameless hussy. Have you ever seen this Danila before? Mama asked Pelagea. How could I have seen him? I set eyes on him today, for the first time. Aksenia picked him up and brought him along. The accursed devil. And where has he come from for my undoing? At dinner, when Pelagea was handing the dishes, everyone looked into her face and teased her about the cabin. She turned fearfully red and went off into a forced giggle. Must be shameful to get married, thought Grishka, terribly shameful. All the dishes were too salt and blood oozed from the half raw chickens and to capital, plates and knives kept dropping out of Pelagea's hands during dinner, a thought from a shelf that had given away. But no one said a word of blame to her as they all understood the state of her feelings. Only once Papa flicked his table napkin angrily and said to Mama, What do you want to be getting them all married for? What business is it of yours? Let them get married of themselves if they want to. After dinner, neighboring cooks and maid servants kept flitting into the kitchen and there was a sound of whispering till the late evening. How they had sent it out a matchmaking God knows. When Grishka woke in the night, he heard his Norse and the cook whispering together in the nursery. Norse was talking persuasively while the cook alternately subbed and giggled. When he fell asleep after this, Grishka dreamed of Pelagea being carried off by Chernomore and a witch. Next day there was a calm. The life of the kitchen went on its accustomed way as though the cabman did not exist. Only from time to time Norse put on her new shawl, assumed a solemn and austere air and went off somewhere for an hour or two, obviously to conduct negotiations. Pelagea did not see the cabman and when his name was mentioned, she flushed up and cried. May he be tried damned! As though I should be thinking of him. In the evening Momma went into the kitchen while Norse and Pelagea were seriously missing something unsaid. You can marry him, of course. That's your business. But I must tell you, Pelagea, that he cannot live here. You know, I don't like to have anyone sitting in the kitchen. Mind now, remember. And I can't let you sleep out. God knows what an idea mysteries, shrieked the cook. Why do you keep throwing him at me? Pelagea would take him. He is a regular course, confound him. Glancing one Sunday morning into the kitchen, Grishka was struck dumb with amazement. The kitchen was cramped full of people. However, cooks from the whole courtyard, the porter, two policemen and non-commissioned officer with good conduct stripes. And the boy Filka. This Filka was generally hanging about the laundry, playing with the dogs. Now he was cunt and washed and was holding an icon in a tin foil setting. Pelagea was standing in the middle of the kitchen in a new cotton dress with a flower on her head. Beside her stood the cab man. The happy pair were red in the face and perspiring and blinking with embarrassment. Well, I fancy it is time, said the non-commissioned officer after a prolonged silence. Pelagea's face worked all over and she began blubbering. The soldier took a big loaf from the table, stood beside Norse and began blessing the couple. The cab man went up to the soldier, flipped down on his knees and gave a smacking kiss on his hand. He did the same before Norse. Pelagea followed him mechanically and she too bowed down to the ground. At last the outer door was opened, there was a whiff of white mist and the whole party flocked noisily out of the kitchen into the yard. Pursing, pursing, so Grishka hearing the throbs of the cook, where have they taken her? Why don't papa and mama protect her? After the wedding there was singing and concertina playing in the laundry till late evening. Mama was cross all the evening because Norse smelled of vodka and owing to the wedding there was no one to hit the samovar. Pelagea had not come back by the time Grisha went to bed. The poor thing is crying somewhere in the dock, he thought. While the cab man is saying to her shut up! Next morning the cook was in the kitchen again. The cab man came in for a minute, he thanked mama and glancing sternly at Pelagea said. Will you look after her, madam? Be a father and a mother to her and you too, Akseni Stepanovna, don't forsake her. See that everything is as it should be without any nonsense. And also, madam, if you would kindly advance me five rubbles of your wages, I have to buy a new horse-coller. Again a problem for Grisha. Pelagea was living in freedom doing as she liked and not having to account to anyone for her actions and all at once for no sort of reason a stranger turns up who has somehow a good right over her conduct and her property. Grisha was distressed. He longed passionately almost to tears to comfort this victim as he supposed of man's injustice. Picking out the very biggest apple in the storeroom he stole into the kitchen, slipped it into Pelagea's hand and darted headlong away. End of the Cook's Wedding Recording by Vlad Shulov