A Slander

Anton Chekhov

SERGE KAPITONICH AHINEEV, the writing master, was marrying his daughter to the

teacher of history and geography. The wedding festivities were going off most successfully.

In the drawing room there was singing, playing, and dancing. Waiters hired from the club

were flitting distractedly about the rooms, dressed in black swallow-tails and dirty white

ties. There was a continual hubbub and din of conversation. Sitting side by side on the sofa,

the teacher of mathematics, Tarantulov, the French teacher, Pasdequoi, and the junior

assessor of taxes, Mzda, were talking hurriedly and interrupting one another as they

described to the guests cases of persons being buried alive, and gave their opinions on

Just at midnight the master of the house went into the kitchen to see whether everything

was ready for supper. The kitchen from floor to ceiling was filled with fumes composed of

goose, duck, and many other odours. On two tables the accessories, the drinks and light

refreshments, were set out in artistic disorder. The cook, Marfa, a red-faced woman whose

figure was like a barrel with a belt around it, was bustling about the tables.

"Show me the sturgeon, Marfa," said Ahineev, rubbing his hands and licking his lips.

"What a perfume! I could eat up the whole kitchen. Come, show me the sturgeon."

Marfa went up to one of the benches and cautiously lifted a piece of greasy newspaper.

Under the paper on an immense dish there reposed a huge sturgeon, masked in jelly and

decorated with capers, olives, and carrots. Ahineev gazed at the sturgeon and gasped. His

Kapitonich! You're a fine grandfather, I must say! Tête-à-tête with the fair sex--tette!"

"I'm not kissing," said Ahineev in confusion. "Who told you so, you fool? I was only . . . I

smacked my lips . . . in reference to . . . as an indication of. . . pleasure . . . at the sight of the

fish."

"Tell that to the marines!" The intrusive face vanished, wearing a broad grin.

Ahineev flushed.

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"Hang it!" he thought, "the beast will go now and talk scandal. He'll disgrace me to all the

town, the brute."

Ahineev went timidly into the drawing-room and looked stealthily round for Vankin.

Vankin was standing by the piano, and, bending down with a jaunty air, was whispering

something to the inspector's sister-in-law, who was laughing.

"Talking about me!" thought Ahineev. "About me, blast him! And she believes it . . .

believes it! She laughs! Mercy on us! No, I can't let it pass . . . I can't. I must do something

to prevent his being believed. . . . I'll speak to them all, and he'll be shown up for a fool and

the supper dishes. I looked at the sturgeon and I smacked my lips with relish . . . at the

piquancy of it. And at the very moment that fool Vankin came in and said: . . . 'Ha, ha,

ha! . . . So you're kissing here!' Kissing Marfa, the cook! What a thing to imagine, silly fool!

The woman is a perfect fright, like all the beasts put together, and he talks about kissing!

Queer fish!"

"Who's a queer fish?" asked Tarantulov, coming up.

"Why he, over there -- Vankin! I went into the kitchen . . ."

And he told the story of Vankin. ". . . He amused me, queer fish! I'd rather kiss a dog than

Marfa, if you ask me," added Ahineev. He looked round and saw behind him Mzda.

"We were talking of Vankin," he said. "Queer fish, he is! He went into the kitchen, saw me

And so on. Within half an hour or so all the guests knew the incident of the sturgeon and

Vankin.

"Let him tell away now!" thought Ahineev, rubbing his hands. "Let him! He'll begin telling

his story and they'll say to him at once, 'Enough of your improbable nonsense, you fool, we

know all about it!' "

And Ahineev was so relieved that in his joy he drank four glasses too many. After escorting

the young people to their room, he went to bed and slept like an innocent babe, and next

day he thought no more of the incident with the sturgeon. But, alas! man proposes, but God

disposes. An evil tongue did its evil work, and Ahineev's strategy was of no avail. Just a

week later -- to be precise, on Wednesday after the third lesson -- when Ahineev was

standing in the middle of the teacher's room, holding forth on the vicious propensities of a

boy called Visekin, the head master went up to him and drew him aside:

"Look here, Sergei Kapitonich," said the head master, "you must excuse me. . . . It's not my

business; but all the same I must make you realize. . . . It's my duty. You see, there are

rumors that you are romancing with that . . . cook. . . . It's nothing to do with me, but . . .

Don't forget that you're a schoolmaster."

Ahineev turned cold and faint. He went home like a man stung by a whole swarm of bees,

"Why aren't you gobbling up your food as usual?" his wife asked him at dinner. "What are

you so pensive about? Brooding over your amours? Pining for your Marfa? I know all about

it, Mohammedan! Kind friends have opened my eyes! O-o-o! . . . you savage!"

And she slapped him in the face. He got up from the table, not feeling the earth under his

feet, and without his hat or coat, made his way to Vankin. He found him at home.

town? Why did you set this slander going about me?"

"What slander? What are you talking about?"

brigand?"

"But who, then, who?" Ahineev wondered, going over all his acquaintances in his mind and

beating himself on the breast. "Who, then?"

Who, then? We, too, ask the reader.