Stepan in Love
One spring day, in April,Stepan Yemelyanov fell in love. With Ellochka, a girl who had come out to Siberia on the virgin lands scheme. He had seen her only twice. The first time was when he had given her a lift from town to the village. Nothing special, he had thought at the time. They didn't exchange a word. The lorry jolted along over the potholes and, whenever the girl was thrown against Stepan, she looked at him in embarrassment, as much as to say, "You know perfectly well I didn't mean to do that." Whereupon she would move to the other end of the seat. Stepan couldn't have cared less. He didn't even look at the girl, just whistled Amur Waves to himself and thought about his battery (it was flat).
When they arrived in the village, the girl started fumbling in her bag for money. Stepan grew slightly red around the cheek-bones.
"Forget it."
"But why?" The girl glanced up at him with greenish, transparent eyes.
"What's wrong?"
"Never mind." Stepan whammed into gear, put his foot down and drove off.
Some girls are pretty goodlookers, he reflected for a moment, with his passenger in mind. And that was all. He forgot about her. After that he was away for a few weeks on the rough Altai roads. He spent the night where he could, saw other girls, some beautiful, others not so beautiful-all kinds. Plenty of girls in the world! If you thought about them all, it'd give you a headache.
Then came April.
One Saturday Stepan drove home in his lorry. He gave himself a good steaming in the bath-house, rigged himself out in a clean shirt with an embroidered collar, and new, soft-leather boots, drank a mug of strong mead and went to the village club to see the show.
It was the local drama group that was playing that night. Stepan enjoyed seeing his own folk on the stage. It was great. You might have known a man for years, then you came to the club and there he was, running about the stage with a beard down to his waist and shouting in an awful voice, "I'll have you buried alive, you so-and-so!"
Stepan always roared with laughter at such moments and the people next to him would always hiss at him and say he didn't understand what it was all about.
Stepan took a seat in one of the front rows and settled down to watch. And what did he see? That very girl he had given a lift from town was on the stage. Just as beautiful as ever, but calm and very important-looking somehow, with her head tilted back a little, her light-brown braids falling down over her shoulders, and red boots on her feet. She walked slowly and turned her head slowly, but there was something soft and endearing in her voice.
Stepan began to feel roused. He had recognised her at once. But he had never thought she was so beautiful as this, that is, he had known she was beautiful, but not in this way.
Then a cocky fellow, Vaska Semyonov, the collecitve farm's bookkeeper, appeared on the stage in a hat and spectacles, also very important-looking. At any other time Stepan would have burst out laughing at the sight of him, but he didn't feel like laughing just now. He watched the girl, waiting for what would happen between her and Vaska. He saw her eyes brighten, saw her cringe as though she were afraid of something. It made him feel quite sorry for her.
"Why have you come?" she asked.
"I can't live without you!" that fool declared loudly, so loud that everyone in the halt could hear.
"Go away," the girl said, but in such a way that it sounded more like, "Don't go away."
"I won't go," Vaska declared, and moved closer to her.
Stepan gripped the edge of the bench. He knew this Vaska was not the kind to go as easy as that. And before he could bat an eyelid, before he had figured out how all this would end, the bookkeeper expertly put his arms round the girl's shoulders, tilled her on to his left arm and kissed her. Stepan saw the girl's lips after the kiss-a little swollen, moist and slightly parted. They were quivering in a demure, happy smile. Everything went dark before Stepan's eyes. He rose and left the club.
Outside he leaned against a post and was a long time coming to his senses.
"What's it all mean?"' he muttered.
...For three days Stepan went about in a fine state (his lorry was in for repair). He found out that the girl's name was Ella, that she was from the city of Voronezh, and that she was the timekeeper in a tractor team. And that was all. He thought of having a word with Vaska Semyonov to make sure he didn't take matters too far on the stage. But he thought better of it in time. After all, it wasn't real life on stage. He'd make a laughing-stock of himself. One evening Stepan put a terrific shine on his soft-leather boots and set out-to see Ellochka. He got as far as the gate (she was lodging with an old couple, the Kuksins), hung about for a while, then walked away. He roamed aimlessly out of the village, and ended up by the river, sitting on the damp ground. He wrapped his arms round his knees, sank his head on them and sat like that until dawn, thinking.
He lost weight in those few days and his eyes darkened with misery. He ate hardly anything and did nothing but smoke and think...
"What's the matter, boy?" his father asked.
"Nothing..." Stepan crushed one cigarette-butt under his boot and reached for another cigarette. He kept his eyes averted.
He had not seen Ellochka in all this time. He went no more to the club.
On the fourth day Stepan announced to his father, "I want to get married."
"Well? Who to?" Yegor Severyanich, his father, asked with interest.
"That one ... the new girl ... the timekeeper," Stepan replied quietly, frowning past his father at the window.
Yegor looked thoughtful.
"D'you know her at all?"
"Yes..." Stepan hesitated. "Well, er ... no."
"Then you won't catch me doing any matchmaking," Yegor declared firmly.
"Why not?"
"I don't want to be put to shame in my old age. I know what it's like. You come to the house and the girl doesn't know a thing about it. You had better talk to her first yourself. Go out courting for a bit, like other people do; then we'll make a match for you. Otherwise... You're always like that, Stepan, going at things like a bull at a gate. I've tried to teach you, but it's no good."
Grandad Severyan, Yegor's father, overheard this conversation. He was lying on the bed over the stove, out of sorts.
"Listen to the great man! He's not going to do any matchmaking," Grandad exclaimed crossly. "Have ye forgotten how I went around persuading your bride for ye?"
Yegor frowned and lit a cigarette. There was a long pause. What could he say? As a young man he had been the same as Stepan-afraid to look a lass in the eye.
"Well, I could go, of course," he said, "only ... only I reckon she won't marry you anyway."
"Yes, she will!" Grandad Severyan declared. "Any giri'd marry a lad like him."
"What makes you think she won't marry me?" Stepan asked, feeling a cold sensation in the pit of his stomach.
"She's a town girl ... the devil knows what they want. She'll be telling you you're backward."
"You're backward yourself," Grandad Severyan interrupted again. "No one takes any notice o'that nowadays. They're a lot cleverer, the girls of today. I'm an old man and even I know that."
On the following Thursday, first thing in the morning, father and son were getting ready for their expedition. Stepan again donned his embroidered shirt and spent a long time in front of the glass, smoothing down his straight, stiff hair.
Yegor with a tortured expression on his face was struggling to capture the small slippery button on the fly of his new trousers. Eventually he caught it in his gnarled fingers and started working it into the tight buttonhole.
'The way they make things, the clowns," he cursed.
"You can bust yourself, but you won't button it. Bust yourself in two"
Stepan finished combing his hair and stood in the middle of the room, wondering what else to do about his appearance.
"Put on a tie," Grandad Severyan advised.
"It wouldn't go with an embroidered shirt," Stepan explained.
At last they were ready.
Yegor pressed his huge palm to the back of his head and stared perplexedly at the old man.
"Do we take a bottle with us or not? Things are done different these days. You can't be sure of anything."
The old man pondered.
'Take one in your pocket," he advised. "Then you'll have it if it's needed."
They set off.
It was a sunny, tinkling day. Little torrents were flowing everywhere. The sky was reflected in the puddles; blue splinters of it glittered here and there on the black earth. April was in full swing on the roads.
They walked in silence, carefully making their way round the puddles to keep their boots clean.
The Kuksins lived in a big house they had built themselves. The first two rooms were empty. Yegor's heart sank; he had been counting on having a word with old
Kuksin first, and in the course of the conversation popping in a "There's a little matter we came here about..." Old Kuksin would have been sure to help him. But now they would have to go straight to the best room, where Ella lived.
Father and son exchanged glances and headed for the best room.
Yegor tapped cautiously on the door with one knuckle.
"Come in!" came the response.
Stepan's heart jumped painfully. Yegor opened one leaf of the door a little, and squeezed in. Stepan followed him. They both halted in the doorway.
At the table in front of them sat Vaska Semyonov and next to him, right next to him, sat Ellochka. They were drinking tea. Vaska had taken off his jacket and was sitting there in a yellow silk shirt, his perfectly shaven cheeks positively glowing. He looked as if he were in his own home, quite at ease, almost lounging. He surveyed the Yemelyanovs affectionately and stupidly.
Ellochka rose lightly and moved up two chairs for the visitors.
"Do come in, please. Come in and sit down."
Yegor, staring at Vaska, seated himself, then looked round at his son. Stepan's cheeks were flaming. He seemed to be rooted to the floor.
'Take a seat, what are you standing for!" Ellochka exclaimed merrily. "Haven't you ever met before?"
Stepan sat down and placed his cap on his knee. For a time there was silence. Ellochka, ready to burst out laughing, glanced now at Stepan, now at Yegor, now at Vaska. Vaska was also puzzled.
"What can I do for you, comrades? I remember you," Ellochka said gaily, addressing Stepan. "You gave me a lift back from town. You were very cross then."
Stepan gave her an agonised smile. Vaska took it upon himself to amuse the company with a joke.
"So we pick up a few passengers on the quiet, do we, Stepan Yegorich? That's not very nice..."- Yegor glanced again at Vaska's sleek face, lowered his head like a bull, and said straight out. "We're here to make a match."
Ellochka actually opened her mouth in surprise.
"But how?.."
"How! How do they make a match? Here's my son," Yegor nodded towards Stepan. "He wants you to marry him. If you consent, of course."
Ella glanced at Stepan.
He clenched his fists till they turned white, planted them on his knees and studied them attentively. Tiny beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead. He made no attempt to wipe them off.
"Marry?" Ella asked, and flushed.
"What else?" Stepan breathed a sigh, and stared at Vaska. Vaska gave a giggle, and swivelled round on his chair to stare at Ella. She stood by the table, pink with embarrassment, carefully removing a piece of fluff from her dress with her white slim fingers.
"You thought of it too late, Stepan," Vaska proclaimed loudly and swivelled round again. "You're too late."
Stepan never gave him so much as a glance this time and fixed his eyes on the girl with a look of serious expectation.
He waited. His confusion had passed off for some reason.
Ellochka suddenly raised her head and looked at Stepan with her clear greenish eyes. There was modesty, affection, reproach, approval and something else, inexpressibly appealing, timid, desperate in that glance. Stepan's heart bounded with joy. No one could have explained what it was that had been born between them at that moment, or why it was born. Only they understood that, or rather felt it.
At that very moment Vaska blurted out, "We're getting married soon, Stepan."
It sounded so foolish that he himself realised he shouldn't have said it.
Yegor rose and was about to walk out of the room, but Ellochka suddenly got into a flutter and said almost too hurriedly, "Where are you going? Call yourself a match- maker! I haven't given you any answer yet."
She quickly recovered her poise and turned her eyes away from Stepan, but Stepan... It didn't matter to Stepan whether she was looking at him or not. He was burning with shame and joy. No force on earth could have made him get up and leave.
Yegor halted. By now Vaska was red with confusion. He, too, had begun to guess the truth.
"Sit down. Let's have some tea, shall we?"
Ella had been confused at first, but now she spoke with assurance and rather a different kind of gaiety-a resolute gaiety.
Everyone waited in suspense for what was bound to happen.
"Perhaps I'd better go?" Vaska asked loudly, and his voice shook with disappointment. Vaska was going under, quite simply going under. He didn't even try to save himself.
"Perhaps you should," Stepan also spoke loudly. He was a little too quick. He shouldn't have hurried like that. But it couldn't be helped. There were two of them and one had to go. Both were playing it rough, and one of them alone was to receive Ella's pardon.
This time it was Vaska who ignored Stepan and stared straight at Ella. Ella blushed again and looked at Yegor, who was still standing in the middle of the room and shifting his glance from one to the other and then to the third. He was completely baffled. Ella gave a sad tittle laugh.
"What a situation to be in! If only someone could help... Why are you standing like this? Please sit down!" She actually stamped her foot lightly. It was certainly hard for her.
Vaska rose from his chair and started putting on his jacket. He put it on very slowly somehow. Everyone waited for him to get it on.
"Well, Stepan, I'm sorry for you," Vaska said.
And he walked out,of the room. At the door he looked round, gave everyone 9 gay, malicious glance and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
For a time there was silence in the room. Stepan carefully wiped the sweat off his forehead, and smiled.
"Well, I don't know about anybody else, but I'm going to have a stiff drink," Yegor declared, going to the table.
"I feel quite weak after this here matchmaking, I do."
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