Nikolai Leskov - The Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District

The woman abusing them laughingly began to tidy herself.

"Well, and how much would I weigh?" said Katerina Lvovna jokingly, and taking hold of the rope got on to the weighing machine.

"Three pouds and seven pounds," answered the same good-looking Sergei, throwing the weights on to the machine. "Wonderful."

"What are you wondering at?"

"That you weigh three pouds, Katerina Lvovna. One would have to carry you all day long in one's arms, I reckon, before getting exhausted—it would only be a pleasure."

"What, am I not like other people, eh? If you carried me, never fear, you would get just as tired," answered Katerina Lvovna, blushing slightly. She was unused to such words, and she suddenly felt a desire to chatter and say all sorts of gay, jolly things.

"Certainly not! Good Lord! I would carry you to Arabia the Blessed," answered Sergei to her remark.

"Young man, you don't argue correctly," said the peasant who was filling the sacks. "What is of weight in us? Is it our body that weighs? Our body, my good fellow, counts for nothing on the scales: it's our strength, our strength, that weighs—not our body!"

"Yes, when I was a girl, I was terribly strong," said Katerina Lvovna, who was unable to restrain herself. "Not every man could get the better of me."

"Well, then, if that is so, give me your little hand," said the handsome young fellow.

Katerina Lvovna became confused, but held out her hand.

"Oh, let go of my ring, it hurts!" cried Katerina Lvovna, when Sergei squeezed her hand in his; and with her free hand she gave him a blow on the chest.

The young fellow released the mistress's hand and her blow made him stagger two paces backwards.

"So that's how you can judge a woman," said the surprised peasant.

"No, allow me to try to wrestle with you?" said Sergei, throwing back his curls.

"Very well, try," answered Katerina Lvovna gaily, and she lifted up her elbows.

Sergei put his arms round the young mistress, and pressed her firm breasts to his red shirt. Katerina Lvovna could only make a slight movement of her shoulders, and Sergei lifted her from the floor, held her up in the air, pressed her to himself, and then gently set her down on the overturned vat.

Katerina Lvovna had no time even to attempt to make use of her boasted strength. She looked very red as she sat on the measure and arranged the jacket on her shoulders, and then quietly went out of the warehouse; while Sergei coughed vigorously and shouted:

"Now then, you blockheads! Don't stand and gape. Fill the sacks and give level measure; strict measure is our gain." Just as if he were paying no heed to what had just occurred.

"He's always after the girls, that damned Serezhka," said the cook Aksinia, as she waddled after Katerina Lvovna. "The rascal is attractive in every way—fine body, fine face, good looks. He will coax and flatter any woman you like—and then lead her to sin. He is a fickle scoundrel too—as fickle as you make 'em!"

"And you, Aksinia, what about you?" said the young mistress walking in front. "Is your boy still alive?"

"He's alive, little mother, he's alive. Why shouldn't he be? They always live where they're not wanted."

"Whose is he?"

"Eh, who's to know? One lives in a crowd—one walks about with many."

"Has that young fellow been long with us?"

"Which young fellow? Do you mean Sergei?"

"Yes."

"About a month. He served before at Konchonov's. The master kicked him out." Aksinia lowered her voice and continued: "They say he had a love affair with the mistress there. The cursed young scamp! See how bold he is!"

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A warm milky twilight hung over the town. Zinovey Borisych had not yet returned from the work at the dam. The father-in-law Boris Timofeich was not at home either; he had gone to the celebration of an old friend's name-day, and had said he would not be home for supper. Katerina Lvovna, having nothing to do, had retired early to her room, and opening the little window of her attic, sat leaning against the window-post, cracking sunflower seeds. The servants had finished their supper in the kitchen and had gone to bed, some in the barn, some in the warehouse, and others in the high sweet-scented hay loft. Sergei was the last to leave the kitchen. He walked about the yard, unchained the watch-dogs, and passed whistling under Katerina Lvovna's window. He looked up at her and bowed low.

"How do you do?" Katerina Lvovna said to him quietly from her attic, and the yard became silent as if it were a desert.

"Madam!" said somebody, five minutes later at Katerina Lvovna's locked door.

"Who's there?" asked Katerina Lvovna, frightened.

"Don't be afraid! It's I, Sergei," answered the clerk.

"Sergei? What do you want?"

"I have a little business with you, Katerina Lvovna; I want to ask your gracious self about a small matter. Allow me to come in for a moment."

Katerina Lvovna turned the key and let Sergei in.

"What do you want?" she said, going to the window.

"I have come to you, Katerina Lvovna, to ask if you have some book you could give me to read. It helps to drive away boredom."

"No, Sergei, I have no books. I do not read them," answered Katerina Lvovna.

"It's so dull!" Sergei complained.

"Why should you feel dull?"

"Good gracious, how can I help feeling dull? I'm a young man; we live here like in a monastery, and the only future to be seen is that we shall go on stagnating in this solitude till we are under the coffin-lid. It makes one sometimes despair."

"Why don't you get married?"

"It's easy, madam, to say get married. Whom can one marry here? I'm only an unimportant man. A master's daughter won't marry me, and owing to poverty, as you yourself know, Katerina Lvovna, I have not much education. How could such a girl know anything about real love? Surely you have noticed how rich merchants understand it. Now you, one may say, would be a comfort to any man who has any feelings, but they keep you in a cage like a canary-bird."

"Yes, I am dull," exclaimed Katerina Lvovna involuntarily.

"How can one help being dull, madam, in such a life? Even if you had another, as others have, it would be impossible to see him."

"Why, what do you mean? It's not that at all. If only I had had a child, I think I should be merry with it."

"Yes, but allow me to say madam, even a child comes from somewhere and not out of the clouds. Do you think, that now having lived so many years with masters, and having seen the sort of life the women have among merchants, we also don't understand? The song says: 'Without a dear friend, sadness and grief possess thee.' And this sadness, I must inform you, Katerina Lvovna, has made my heart feel so tender, that I could take a steel knife to cut it out of my breast and throw it at your little feet. It would be easier, a hundred times easier for me then . . . ."

Sergei's voice shook.

"Why are you telling me about your heart? I have nothing to do with it. Go away . . . ."

"No, allow me, madam," said Sergei, trembling all over and taking a step towards Katerina Lvovna. "I know, I see, I feel and understand quite well that your lot is no better than mine in this world; but now," said he, drawing a long breath, "now at this moment, all this is in your hands, and in your power."

"What do you mean?—Why have you come to me?—I shall throw myself out of the window," said Katerina Lvovna, feeling herself under the intolerable power of an indescribable terror, and she caught hold of the window sill.

"My life! My incomparable one, why should you throw yourself out of the window?" whispered Sergei boldly, and tearing the young mistress away from the window he pressed her in a close embrace.

"Oh, oh, let me go," Katerina Lvovna sighed gently, becoming weak under Sergei's hot kisses, and she pressed, contrary to her own wish, closer to his strong body.