Forty Stories by ANTON CHEKHOV Page A

The second, which contained the most ardent hunters, swayed, lurched, gave an awful scream, swerved slightly to one side, and then overtook the first and drove to the gate. The hunters were all smiles, clapping their hands in an access of joy. They were in their seventh heaven when … Oh, cruel fate!—they had no sooner left the courtyard than a ghastly accident occurred.
    “Stop! Wait for me! Halt!” a piercing tenor voice called from somewhere behind.
    The hunters looked back, and turned pale. Stumbling after the carriages was the most insufferable man in the world, a brawler and roughneck, as was well known to everyone in the entire province, a certain Mikhey Yegorich Optemperansky, brother of Yegor Yegorich, and a retired naval captain, second class. He waved his hands wildly. The carriage came to a halt.
    “Well, what’s up?” asked Yegor Yegorich.
    Mikhey Yegorich hurled himself at the carriage, climbed the step, and shook his fists at his brother. The hunters were all shouting at once.
    “What’s going on?” Yegor Yegorich shouted, his face turning crimson.
    “What’s going on?” shouted Mikhey Yegorich. “I’ll tell you what’s going on! You’re a Judas, a beast, a swine! Yes, a swine, Your Excellency! Why didn’t you wake me, you fool? What ascoundrel you are! Why didn’t you wake me? Excuse me, gentlemen, I never … I only want to teach him a lesson! Why didn’t he wake me? Don’t you want your brother to come with you? Would I be in the way? You purposely made me drunk yesterday evening, thought I would sleep till noon! Fine fellow you are! Excuse me, Your Excellency … I only want to hit him once … only once!… Excuse me!”
    “You mustn’t come in!” the general said, spreading out his hands. “Don’t you see there is no room? It’s really too much!”
    “You won’t get anywhere by cursing, Mikhey!” Yegor Yegorich said. “I didn’t wake you because there’s no reason why you should come with us!… You don’t know how to shoot! So what’s the point of coming? You’ll only get in the way! You just don’t know how to shoot!”
    “I don’t know how to shoot, eh?” Mikhey Yegorich shouted so loud that Bolva flung his hands up to his ears. “If that’s so, then why the devil is the doctor going? He doesn’t know how to shoot either! So you think he’s a better shot than I am?”
    “He’s right, gentlemen,” said the doctor. “I don’t know how to shoot. I don’t know how to handle a gun. I can’t stand shooting!… I don’t know why you take me with you. The hell with it! Let him take my place! I’ll stay behind. Here’s a place for you, Mikhey!”
    “Did you hear that? Why should we take him along?”
    The doctor rose with the evident intention of climbing out of the carriage. Yegor Yegorich tugged at his coat-tails and pulled him down.
    “Don’t tear my coat! It cost thirty rubles! Let go! Really, gentlemen, I must ask you to spare me your conversation today! I’m not in a good mood, and might do something unwise, even something I didn’t want to do! Let go, Yegor Yegorich! I’m going home to get some sleep!”
    “No, you’ve got to come with us,” Yegor Yegorich said, not letting go of the coat. “You gave me your word you would come!”
    “That’s right. I gave you my word—you forced it out of me! Why do I have to come?”
    “Why?” squeaked Mikhey Yegorich. “Why? Because otherwise you would be left behind with his wife, that’s why! He’s jealous of you, Doctor! Don’t go, dear fellow. Don’t go, in spite of him! Lord God, he’s jealous, that’s what it is!”
    Yegor Yegorich turned a thick scarlet and clenched his fists.
    “Hey, you!” voices shouted from the other carriage. “Mikhey Yegorich, stop all that fiddle-daddle! Come over here! We’ve got a place for you!”
    Mikhey Yegorich smiled his malicious smile.
    “Listen, you swine!” he said. “What’s come over you? Didn’t you hear them? They’ve found a