The Album
KRATEROV, the titular councillor, as thin and
slender as the Admiralty spire, stepped forward and, addressing Zhmyhov, said:
“Your Excellency! Moved and
touched to the bottom of our hearts by the way you have ruled us during long
years, and by your fatherly care…. ”
“During the course of more
than ten years… ” Zakusin prompted.
“During the course of more
than ten years, we, your subordinates, on this so memorable for us… er… day,
beg your Excellency to accept in token of our respect and profound gratitude
this album with our portraits in it, and express our hope that for the duration
of your distinguished life, that for long, long years to come, to your dying
day you may not abandon us…”
“With your fatherly
guidance in the path of justice and progress…” added Zakusin, wiping from his
brow the perspiration that had suddenly appeared on it; he was evidently longing
to speak, and in all probability had a speech ready. “And,” he wound up, “may
your standard fly for long, long years in the career of genius, industry, and
social self-consciousness.”
A tear trickled down the
wrinkled left cheek of Zhmyhov.
“Gentlemen!” he said in a
shaking voice, “I did not expect, I had no idea that you were going to
celebrate my modest jubilee… I am touched indeed… very much so… I shall not forget this moment to my dying
day, and believe me… believe me, friends, that no one is so desirous of your
welfare as I am… and if there has been anything… it was for your benefit.”
Zhmyhov, the actual civil
councillor, kissed the titular councillor Kraterov, who had not expected such
an honour, and turned pale with delight. Then the chief made a gesture that
signified that he could not speak for emotion, and shed tears as though an
expensive album had not been presented to him, but on the contrary, taken from
him… Then when he had a little recovered and said a few more words full of
feeling and given everyone his hand to shake, he went downstairs amid loud and
joyful cheers, got into his carriage and drove off, followed by their
blessings. As he sat in his carriage he was aware of a flood of joyous feelings
such as he had never known before, and once more he shed tears.
At home new delights
awaited him. There his family, his friends, and acquaintances had prepared him
such an ovation that it seemed to him that he really had been of very great
service to his country, and that if he had never existed his country would
perhaps have been in a very bad way. The jubilee dinner was made up of toasts,
speeches, and tears. In short, Zhmyhov had never expected that his merits would
be so warmly appreciated.
“Gentlemen!” he said before
the dessert, “two hours ago I was recompensed for all the sufferings a man has
to undergo who is the servant, so to say, not of routine, not of the letter,
but of duty! Through the whole duration of my service I have constantly adhered
to the principle; — the public does not exist for us, but we for the public,
and today I received the highest reward! My subordinates presented me with an
album… see! I was touched.”
Festive faces bent over the
album and began examining it.
“It’s a pretty album,” said
Zhmyhov’s daughter Olya, “it must have cost fifty roubles, I do believe. Oh,
it’s charming! You must give me the album, papa, do you hear? I’ll take care of
it, it’s so pretty.”
After dinner Olya carried
off the album to her room and shut it up in her table drawer. Next day she took
the clerks out of it, flung them on the floor, and put her school friends in
their place. The government uniforms made way for white pelerines. Kolya, his
Excellency’s little son, picked up the clerks and painted their clothes red.
Those who had no moustaches he presented with green moustaches and added brown
beards to the beardless. When there was nothing left to paint he cut the little
men out of the card-board, pricked their eyes with a pin, and began playing soldiers
with them. After cutting out the titular councillor Kraterov, he fixed him on a
match-box and carried him in that state to his father’s study.
“Papa, a monument, look!”
Zhmyhov burst out laughing,
lurched forward, and, looking tenderly at the child, gave him a warm kiss on
the cheek.
“There, you rogue, go and
show mamma; let mamma look too.”
No comments:
Post a Comment