The Jeune Premier Page #2

"The Jeune Premier" is a short story by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov that explores the themes of youth, ambition, and the complexities of human relationships. The narrative revolves around a young actor who, full of dreams and aspirations, navigates the challenges of the theatrical world and his interactions with others, reflecting on the illusions of fame and the bittersweet nature of love. Through Chekhov's keen observations and nuanced character portrayals, the story captures the tension between youthful idealism and the often harsh realities of life, making it a poignant commentary on the pursuit of artistic success and personal fulfillment.

								

shoulders and swinging his leg. "This is positively insulting!"

"So you will not confess it?"

"I do-on't understand!"

"You will not? In that case, excuse me . . . I shall have to resort to
unpleasant measures. Either, sir, I shall insult you at once on the
spot, or . . . if you are an honourable man, you will kindly accept my
challenge to a duel. . . . We will fight!"

"Certainly!" rapped out the jeune premier, with a contemptuous gesture.
"Certainly."

Extremely perturbed, the guests and the host, not knowing what to do,
drew Klimov aside and began begging him not to get up a scandal.
Astonished feminine countenances appeared in the doorway. . . . The
jeune premier turned round, said a few words, and with an air of being
unable to remain in a house where he was insulted, took his cap and made
off without saying good-bye.

On his way home the jeune premier smiled contemptuously and shrugged his
shoulders, but when he reached his hotel room and stretched himself on
his sofa he felt exceedingly uneasy.

"The devil take him!" he thought. "A duel does not matter, he won't kill
me, but the trouble is the other fellows will hear of it, and they know
perfectly well it was a yarn. It's abominable! I shall be disgraced all
over Russia. . . ."

Podzharov thought a little, smoked, and to calm himself went out into
the street.

"I ought to talk to this bully, ram into his stupid noddle that he is a
blockhead and a fool, and that I am not in the least afraid of him. . .
."

The jeune premier stopped before Zybaev's house and looked at the
windows. Lights were still burning behind the muslin curtains and
figures were moving about.

"I'll wait for him!" the actor decided.

It was dark and cold. A hateful autumn rain was drizzling as though
through a sieve. Podzharov leaned his elbow on a lamp-post and abandoned
himself to a feeling of uneasiness.

He was wet through and exhausted.

At two o'clock in the night the guests began coming out of Zybaev's
house. The landowner from Tula was the last to make his appearance. He
heaved a sigh that could be heard by the whole street and scraped the
pavement with his heavy overboots.

"Excuse me!" said the jeune premier, overtaking him. "One minute."

Klimov stopped. The actor gave a smile, hesitated, and began,
stammering: "I . . . I confess . . . I told a lie."

"No, sir, you will please confess that publicly," said Klimov, and he
turned crimson again. "I can't leave it like that. . . ."

"But you see I am apologizing! I beg you . . . don't you understand? I
beg you because you will admit a duel will make talk, and I am in a
position. . . . My fellow-actors . . . goodness knows what they may
think. . . ."

The jeune premier tried to appear unconcerned, to smile, to stand erect,
but his body would not obey him, his voice trembled, his eyes blinked
guiltily, and his head drooped. For a good while he went on muttering
something. Klimov listened to him, thought a little, and heaved a sigh.

"Well, so be it," he said. "May God forgive you. Only don't lie in
future, young man. Nothing degrades a man like lying . . . yes, indeed!
You are a young man, you have had a good education. . . ."

The landowner from Tula, in a benignant, fatherly way, gave him a
lecture, while the jeune premier listened and smiled meekly. . . . When
it was over he smirked, bowed, and with a guilty step and a crestfallen
air set off for his hotel.

As he went to bed half an hour later he felt that he was out of danger
and was already in excellent spirits. Serene and satisfied that the
misunderstanding had ended so satisfactorily, he wrapped himself in the
bedclothes, soon fell asleep, and slept soundly till ten o'clock next
morning.
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