The Cooks Wedding and Other Stories | Page 2

him, but he did not get on with his reading. All that he had just seen
and heard aroused a multitude of questions in his mind.
"The cook's going to be married," he thought. "Strange--I don't
understand what people get married for. Mamma was married to papa,
Cousin Verotchka to Pavel Andreyitch. But one might be married to
papa and Pavel Andreyitch after all: they have gold watch-chains and
nice suits, their boots are always polished; but to marry that dreadful
cabman with a red nose and felt boots. . . . Fi! And why is it nurse
wants poor Pelageya to be married?"
When the visitor had gone out of the kitchen, Pelageya appeared and
began clearing away. Her agitation still persisted. Her face was red and
looked scared. She scarcely touched the floor with the broom, and
swept every corner five times over. She lingered for a long time in the
room where mamma was sitting. She was evidently oppressed by her
isolation, and she was longing to express herself, to share her

impressions with some one, to open her heart.
"He's gone," she muttered, seeing that mamma would not begin the
conversation.
"One can see he is a good man," said mamma, not taking her eyes off
her sewing. "Sober and steady."
"I declare I won't marry him, mistress!" Pelageya cried suddenly,
flushing crimson. "I declare I won't!"
"Don't be silly; you are not a child. It's a serious step; you must think it
over thoroughly, it's no use talking nonsense. Do you like him?"
"What an idea, mistress!" cried Pelageya, abashed. "They say such
things that . . . my goodness. . . ."
"She should say she doesn't like him!" thought Grisha.
"What an affected creature you are. . . . Do you like him?"
"But he is old, mistress!"
"Think of something else," nurse flew out at her from the next room.
"He has not reached his fortieth year; and what do you want a young
man for? Handsome is as handsome does. . . . Marry him and that's all
about it!"
"I swear I won't," squealed Pelageya.
"You are talking nonsense. What sort of rascal do you want? Anyone
else would have bowed down to his feet, and you declare you won't
marry him. You want to be always winking at the postmen and tutors.
That tutor that used to come to Grishenka, mistress . . . she was never
tired of making eyes at him. O-o, the shameless hussy!"
"Have you seen this Danilo before?" mamma asked Pelageya.
"How could I have seen him? I set eyes on him to-day for the first time.
Aksinya picked him up and brought him along . . . the accursed
devil. . . . And where has he come from for my undoing!"
At dinner, when Pelageya was handing the dishes, everyone looked into
her face and teased her about the cabman. She turned fearfully red, and
went off into a forced giggle.
"It must be shameful to get married," thought Grisha. "Terribly
shameful."
All the dishes were too salt, and blood oozed from the half-raw
chickens, and, to cap it all, plates and knives kept dropping out of
Pelageya's hands during dinner, as though from a shelf that had given
way; but no one said a word of blame to her, as they all understood the

state of her feelings. Only once papa flicked his table-napkin angrily
and said to mamma:
"What do you want to be getting them all married for? What business is
it of yours? Let them get married of themselves if they want to."
After dinner, neighbouring cooks and maidservants kept flitting into the
kitchen, and there was the sound of whispering till late evening. How
they had scented out the matchmaking, God knows. When Grisha woke
in the night he heard his nurse and the cook whispering together in the
nursery. Nurse was talking persuasively, while the cook alternately
sobbed and giggled. When he fell asleep after this, Grisha dreamed of
Pelageya being carried off by Tchernomor and a witch.
Next day there was a calm. The life of the kitchen went on its
accustomed way as though the cabman did not exist. Only from time to
time nurse put on her new shawl, assumed a solemn and austere air, and
went off somewhere for an hour or two, obviously to conduct
negotiations. . . . Pelageya did not see the cabman, and when his name
was mentioned she flushed up and cried:
"May he be thrice damned! As though I should be thinking of him!
Tfoo!"
In the evening mamma went into the kitchen, while nurse and Pelageya
were zealously mincing something, and said:
"You can marry him, of course--that's your business--but I must tell
you, Pelageya, that he