Knock, Knock, Knock Page #9

"Knock, Knock, Knock" is a lesser-known work by the acclaimed Russian author Ivan Sergeevich Turgenev, known for his deep insights into human nature and societal dynamics. This narrative centers around the themes of love, existential reflection, and the complexities of personal relationships within the backdrop of 19th-century Russia. Turgenev’s lyrical prose and keen psychological exploration invite readers to delve into the characters’ motivations and emotions, making it a poignant examination of life’s enduring questions.

								

great strictness of her parents----"

"Very good, very good," I interrupted him, handed him the comb and
dismissed him.

"So that was the 'Ilyusha,'" I thought, and I sank into philosophic
reflections which I will not, however, intrude upon you as I don't
want to prevent anyone from believing in fate, predestination and such
like.

When I was back in Petersburg I made inquiries about Masha. I even
discovered the doctor who had treated her. To my amazement I heard
from him that she had died not through poisoning but of cholera! I
told him what I had heard from Tyeglev.

"Eh! Eh!" cried the doctor all at once. "Is that Tyeglev an artillery
officer, a man of middle height and with a stoop, speaks with a lisp?"

"Yes."

"Well, I thought so. That gentleman came to me--I had never seen him
before--and began insisting that the girl had poisoned herself. 'It
was cholera,' I told him. 'Poison,' he said. 'It was cholera, I tell
you,' I said. 'No, it was poison,' he declared. I saw that the fellow
was a sort of lunatic, with a broad base to his head--a sign of
obstinacy, he would not give over easily.... Well, it doesn't matter,
I thought, the patient is dead.... 'Very well,' I said, 'she poisoned
herself if you prefer it.' He thanked me, even shook hands with
me--and departed."

I told the doctor how the officer had shot himself the same day.

The doctor did not turn a hair--and only observed that there were all
sorts of queer fellows in the world.

"There are indeed," I assented.

Yes, someone has said truly of suicides: until they carry out their
design, no one believes them; and when they do, no one regrets them.

Baden, 1870.
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