In Exile Page #2

"In Exile" is a poignant short story by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov that explores themes of alienation, social injustice, and the human condition. Set against the backdrop of Siberia, the narrative follows the lives of political exiles who endure hardships and reflect on their pasts. Through vivid characterizations and a keen observation of the complexities of human emotions, Chekhov highlights the struggles for dignity and freedom in a repressive environment. The story is a powerful commentary on the impact of societal constraints and the enduring hope for liberation.

								

The lady did not stay with him long. How could she? The clay, the water,
the cold, no vegetables for you, no fruit. All around you ignorant and
drunken people and no sort of manners, and she was a spoilt lady from
Petersburg or Moscow.... To be sure she moped. Besides, her husband, say
what you like, was not a gentleman now, but a settler--not the same rank.

"Three years later, I remember, on the eve of the Assumption, there was
shouting from the further bank. I went over with the ferry, and what do
I see but the lady, all wrapped up, and with her a young gentleman, an
official. A sledge with three horses.... I ferried them across here,
they got in and away like the wind. They were soon lost to sight. And
towards morning Vassily Sergeyitch galloped down to the ferry. 'Didn't
my wife come this way with a gentleman in spectacles, Semyon?' 'She
did,' said I; 'you may look for the wind in the fields!' He galloped in
pursuit of them. For five days and nights he was riding after them. When
I ferried him over to the other side afterwards, he flung himself on the
ferry and beat his head on the boards of the ferry and howled. 'So
that's how it is,' says I. I laughed, and reminded him 'people can live
even in Siberia!' And he beat his head harder than ever....

"Then he began longing for freedom. His wife had slipped off to Russia,
and of course he was drawn there to see her and to get her away from her
lover. And he took, my lad, to galloping almost every day, either to the
post or the town to see the commanding officer; he kept sending in
petitions for them to have mercy on him and let him go back home; and he
used to say that he had spent some two hundred roubles on telegrams
alone. He sold his land and mortgaged his house to the Jews. He grew
gray and bent, and yellow in the face, as though he was in consumption.
If he talked to you he would go, khee--khee--khee,... and there were tears
in his eyes. He kept rushing about like this with petitions for eight
years, but now he has grown brighter and more cheerful again: he has
found another whim to give way to. You see, his daughter has grown up.
He looks at her, and she is the apple of his eye. And to tell the truth
she is all right, good-looking, with black eyebrows and a lively
disposition. Every Sunday he used to ride with her to church in Gyrino.
They used to stand on the ferry, side by side, she would laugh and he
could not take his eyes off her. 'Yes, Semyon,' says he, 'people can
live even in Siberia. Even in Siberia there is happiness. Look,' says
he, 'what a daughter I have got! I warrant you wouldn't find another
like her for a thousand versts round.' 'Your daughter is all right,'
says I, 'that's true, certainly.' But to myself I thought: 'Wait a bit,
the wench is young, her blood is dancing, she wants to live, and there
is no life here.' And she did begin to pine, my lad.... She faded and
faded, and now she can hardly crawl about. Consumption.

"So you see what Siberian happiness is, damn its soul! You see how
people can live in Siberia.... He has taken to going from one doctor to
another and taking them home with him. As soon as he hears that two or
three hundred miles away there is a doctor or a sorcerer, he will drive
to fetch him. A terrible lot of money he spent on doctors, and to my
thinking he had better have spent the money on drink.... She'll die just
the same. She is certain to die, and then it will be all over with him.
He'll hang himself from grief or run away to Russia--that's a sure thing.
He'll run away and they'll catch him, then he will be tried, sent to
prison, he will have a taste of the lash...."

"Good! good!" said the Tatar, shivering with cold.

"What is good?" asked Canny.

"His wife, his daughter.... What of prison and what of sorrow!--anyway,
he did see his wife and his daughter.... You say, want nothing. But
'nothing' is bad! His wife lived with him three years--that was a gift
from God. 'Nothing' is bad, but three years is good. How not
understand?"

Shivering and hesitating, with effort picking out the Russian words of
which he knew but few, the Tatar said that God forbid one should fall
sick and die in a strange land, and be buried in the cold and dark
earth; that if his wife came to him for one day, even for one hour, that
for such happiness he would be ready to bear any suffering and to thank
God. Better one day of happiness than nothing.

Then he described again what a beautiful and clever wife he had left at
home. Then, clutching his head in both hands, he began crying and
assuring Semyon that he was not guilty, and was suffering for nothing.
His two brothers and an uncle had carried off a peasant's horses, and
had beaten the old man till he was half dead, and the commune had not
judged fairly, but had contrived a sentence by which all the three
brothers were sent to Siberia, while the uncle, a rich man, was left at
home.

"You will get used to it!" said Semyon.

The Tatar was silent, and stared with tear-stained eyes at the fire; his
face expressed bewilderment and fear, as though he still did not
understand why he was here in the darkness and the wet, beside
strangers, and not in the Simbirsk province.

Canny lay near the fire, chuckled at something, and began humming a song
in an undertone.

"What joy has she with her father?" he said a little later. "He loves
her and he rejoices in her, that's true; but, mate, you must mind your
ps and qs with him, he is a strict old man, a harsh old man. And young
wenches don't want strictness. They want petting and ha-ha-ha! and ho-
ho-ho! and scent and pomade. Yes.... Ech! life, life," sighed Semyon,
and he got up heavily. "The vodka is all gone, so it is time to sleep.
Eh? I am going, my lad...."

Left alone, the Tatar put on more twigs, lay down and stared at the
fire; he began thinking of his own village and of his wife. If his wife
could only come for a month, for a day; and then if she liked she might
go back again. Better a month or even a day than nothing. But if his
wife kept her promise and came, what would he have to feed her on? Where
could she live here?

"If there were not something to eat, how could she live?" the Tatar
asked aloud.

He was paid only ten kopecks for working all day and all night at the
oar; it is true that travelers gave him tips for tea and for vodkas but
the men shared all they received among themselves, and gave nothing to
the Tatar, but only laughed at him. And from poverty he was hungry,
cold, and frightened.... Now, when his whole body was aching and
shivering, he ought to go into the hut and lie down to sleep; but he had
nothing to cover him there, and it was colder than on the river-bank;
here he had nothing to cover him either, but at least he could make up
the fire....

In another week, when the floods were quite over and they set the ferry
going, none of the ferrymen but Semyon would be wanted, and the Tatar
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