The Chemist's Wife Page #2

"The Chemist's Wife" is a poignant short story by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov that delves into themes of love, loneliness, and the complexities of human relationships. The narrative centers on a chemist's wife who, feeling neglected and trapped in her mundane life, finds solace and emotional connection in an unexpected encounter. Through Chekhov's masterful storytelling, the story explores the intricacies of her desires, the constraints of societal expectations, and the yearning for deeper fulfillment and understanding. With his characteristic sensitivity and keen observation of human nature, Chekhov crafts a compelling portrait of the inner lives of his characters.

								


"That would be splendid. What a pity they don't sell spirits in
chemist's shops! Though you ought to sell wine as a medicine. Have you
any vinum gallicum rubrum?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, give us some! Bring it here, damn it!"

"How much do you want?"

"Quantum satis. . . . Give us an ounce each in the water, and afterwards
we'll see. . . . Obtyosov, what do you say? First with water and
afterwards per se. . . ."

The doctor and Obtyosov sat down to the counter, took off their caps,
and began drinking the wine.

"The wine, one must admit, is wretched stuff! Vinum nastissimum! Though
in the presence of . . . er . . . it tastes like nectar. You are
enchanting, madam! In imagination I kiss your hand."

"I would give a great deal to do so not in imagination," said Obtyosov.
"On my honour, I'd give my life."

"That's enough," said Madame Tchernomordik, flushing and assuming a
serious expression.

"What a flirt you are, though!" the doctor laughed softly, looking slyly
at her from under his brows. "Your eyes seem to be firing shot: piff-
paff! I congratulate you: you've conquered! We are vanquished!"

The chemist's wife looked at their ruddy faces, listened to their
chatter, and soon she, too, grew quite lively. Oh, she felt so gay! She
entered into the conversation, she laughed, flirted, and even, after
repeated requests from the customers, drank two ounces of wine.

"You officers ought to come in oftener from the camp," she said; "it's
awful how dreary it is here. I'm simply dying of it."

"I should think so!" said the doctor indignantly. "Such a peach, a
miracle of nature, thrown away in the wilds! How well Griboyedov said,
'Into the wilds, to Saratov'! It's time for us to be off, though.
Delighted to have made your acquaintance . . . very. How much do we owe
you?"

The chemist's wife raised her eyes to the ceiling and her lips moved for
some time.

"Twelve roubles forty-eight kopecks," she said.

Obtyosov took out of his pocket a fat pocket-book, and after fumbling
for some time among the notes, paid.

"Your husband's sleeping sweetly . . . he must be dreaming," he
muttered, pressing her hand at parting.

"I don't like to hear silly remarks. . . ."

"What silly remarks? On the contrary, it's not silly at all . . . even
Shakespeare said: 'Happy is he who in his youth is young.'"

"Let go of my hand."

At last after much talk and after kissing the lady's hand at parting,
the customers went out of the shop irresolutely, as though they were
wondering whether they had not forgotten something.

She ran quickly into the bedroom and sat down in the same place. She saw
the doctor and the officer, on coming out of the shop, walk lazily away
a distance of twenty paces; then they stopped and began whispering
together. What about? Her heart throbbed, there was a pulsing in her
temples, and why she did not know. . . . Her heart beat violently as
though those two whispering outside were deciding her fate.

Five minutes later the doctor parted from Obtyosov and walked on, while
Obtyosov came back. He walked past the shop once and a second time. . .
. He would stop near the door and then take a few steps again. At last
the bell tinkled discreetly.

"What? Who is there?" the chemist's wife heard her husband's voice
suddenly. "There's a ring at the bell, and you don't hear it," he said
severely. "Is that the way to do things?"

He got up, put on his dressing-gown, and staggering, half asleep,
flopped in his slippers to the shop.

"What . . . is it?" he asked Obtyosov.

"Give me . . . give me four pennyworth of peppermint lozenges."

Sniffing continually, yawning, dropping asleep as he moved, and knocking
his knees against the counter, the chemist went to the shelf and reached
down the jar.

Two minutes later the chemist's wife saw Obtyosov go out of the shop,
and, after he had gone some steps, she saw him throw the packet of
peppermints on the dusty road. The doctor came from behind a corner to
meet him. . . . They met and, gesticulating, vanished in the morning
mist.

"How unhappy I am!" said the chemist's wife, looking angrily at her
husband, who was undressing quickly to get into bed again. "Oh, how
unhappy I am!" she repeated, suddenly melting into bitter tears. "And
nobody knows, nobody knows. . . ."

"I forgot fourpence on the counter," muttered the chemist, pulling the
quilt over him. "Put it away in the till, please. . . ."

And at once he fell asleep again.

The Schoolmistress and Other Stories
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