Short Fiction, Aleksandr Kuprin [the speed reading book txt] 📗

It was with an unpleasant feeling that Princess Vera came up the steps of the piazza and entered the house. Even at a distance she heard the loud voice of her brother Nikolay, and when she came nearer to the house she saw him walking rapidly from one end of the room to the other. Vasily Lvovich was sitting at the card-table and, his large, light-haired head bent over the table, was drawing figures on the green cloth.

“Haven’t I been insisting on it for a long time?” Nikolay was saying angrily, making a gesture with his right hand as though he was trying to throw a heavy object on the floor. “Haven’t I been insisting for a long time that this whole history of foolish letters must come to an end? Even before you and Vera were married, when I was assuring you that you were both merely amusing yourselves like children, and saw nothing but fun and amusement in them.⁠ ⁠… Oh, here is Vera herself.⁠ ⁠… Why, we were just talking with Vasily Lvovich, about that crazy fellow of yours, that P. P. Z. I consider this correspondence both insolent and disgusting.”

“There was no correspondence at all,” interrupted Prince Sheyin coldly. “He was the only one that wrote.”

Vera blushed at this and sat down on the couch in the shadow of the large house plant.

“I apologize for using that expression,” said Nikolay Nikolayevich and again threw to the ground some invisible, heavy object which he seemed to have torn away from his chest.

“And I do not understand at all why you insist on calling him mine,” added Vera, glad of her husband’s support. “He is just as much yours as mine.”

“All right, I apologize again. But at any rate what I want to say is that it is time to put an end to all this nonsense. It seems to me that things have gone beyond the limit within which one can laugh and draw funny pictures. And believe me, if there is anything that I am worrying about just now, it is the good name of Vera, and yours, too, Vasily Lvovich.”

“Oh, I am afraid that is putting the thing a little bit too strong, Kolya,” replied Sheyin.

“That’s possible, but both of you run a risk of finding yourselves in a very funny situation.”

“I do not see how,” said the prince.

“Just imagine that this idiotic bracelet,” Nikolay picked up the red case from the table and immediately replaced it with a gesture of aversion, “that this monstrous trinket will remain in your hands, or we shall throw it away, or give it to the maid. Then, in the first place, P. P. Z. can boast to his friends of the fact that Princess Vera Nikolayevna Sheyin accepts his presents, and in the second place, he might be encouraged to repeat the same feat. Tomorrow he might send you a diamond ring, the day after tomorrow, a pearl necklace, and then, all of a sudden, he will find himself on trial for embezzlement or forgery, and Prince Sheyin together with his wife will have to appear as witnesses at the trial. That would be a fine situation, indeed.”

“Oh, no, the bracelet must be sent back at once!” exclaimed Vasily Lvovich.

“I think so, too,” said Vera, “and the sooner the better. But how are you going to do it? We know neither his name nor his address.”

“That’s a very small matter,” replied Nikolay Nikolayevich contemptuously. “We know his initials, P. P. Z. Is not that right, Vera?”

“G. S. Z.”

“That’s fine. Moreover, we know that he’s some kind of an official. That’s quite sufficient. Tomorrow I will get a copy of the city directory and will find there an official with these initials. And if for some reason or other, I do not find him that way, I shall simply call in a detective and order him to find the man for me. In case of difficulty, I shall make use of this note which gives us an idea of his handwriting. At any rate, by two o’clock tomorrow afternoon, I shall know exactly the name and address of this young fellow and even the time when he can be found at home. And once I know this, we can see him tomorrow, return him his treasure, and take proper measures to make sure that he will never again remind us of his existence.”

“What do you propose to do?” asked Prince Vasily Lvovich.

“I will go to the governor and ask him.⁠ ⁠…”

“Oh, no, not to the governor. You know the relations that exist between us two.⁠ ⁠… If you do that, then we shall be sure to find ourselves in a funny situation.”

“All right, then, I will go to the colonel of the gendarmes. We belong to the same club. I will ask him to get this Romeo down to his office and tell him a few things. You know how he does it? He just brings a finger right close to the man’s nose and shakes it there, as though to say: ‘I won’t stand for anything like that, sir.’ ”

“No, no, not through the gendarmes,” said Vera.

“That’s right, Vera,” added the prince. “It would be better not to mix in any outsiders. There would be all sorts of rumors and gossip if we do. We know our town well enough; everybody lives here as though in a glass jar.⁠ ⁠… I guess I myself will go to see this young fellow.⁠ ⁠… Though, the Lord knows, he may be sixty.⁠ ⁠… I will return him the bracelet, and have it out with him.”

“Then I will go with you,” interrupted Nikolay Nikolayevich. “You are not stern enough. Let me do the talking.⁠ ⁠… And now, my friends,” he took out his watch and consulted it, “you will have to excuse me. I shall go up to my room now. I have two cases to look over before tomorrow morning.”

“I begin to feel