The Marshal's Widow Page #2

"The Marshal's Widow" is a poignant short story by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov that explores themes of love, loss, and social status. The narrative follows the widow of a respected marshal as she navigates her new life filled with loneliness and nostalgia. Through her reflections and interactions with those around her, Chekhov delves into the complexities of human emotions and the challenges of adapting to a changed reality. The story is notable for its rich character development and Chekhov's trademark subtlety, ultimately offering insights into the human condition and the interplay of memory and identity.

								

horse. . . .

On the evening of the same day, Lyubov Petrovna is sitting in her study,
writing a letter to an old friend in Petersburg:

"To-day, as in past years," she writes among other things, "I had a
memorial service for my dear husband. All my neighbours came to the
service. They are a simple, rough set, but what hearts! I gave them a
splendid lunch, but of course, as in previous years, without a drop of
alcoholic liquor. Ever since he died from excessive drinking I have
vowed to establish temperance in this district and thereby to expiate
his sins. I have begun the campaign for temperance at my own house.
Father Yevmeny is delighted with my efforts, and helps me both in word
and deed. Oh, ma chère, if you knew how fond my bears are of me! The
president of the Zemstvo, Marfutkin, kissed my hand after lunch, held it
a long while to his lips, and, wagging his head in an absurd way, burst
into tears: so much feeling but no words! Father Yevmeny, that
delightful little old man, sat down by me, and looking tearfully at me
kept babbling something like a child. I did not understand what he said,
but I know how to understand true feeling. The police captain, the
handsome man of whom I wrote to you, went down on his knees to me, tried
to read me some verses of his own composition (he is a poet), but . . .
his feelings were too much for him, he lurched and fell over . . . that
huge giant went into hysterics, you can imagine my delight! The day did
not pass without a hitch, however. Poor Alalykin, the president of the
judges' assembly, a stout and apoplectic man, was overcome by illness
and lay on the sofa in a state of unconsciousness for two hours. We had
to pour water on him. . . . I am thankful to Doctor Dvornyagin: he had
brought a bottle of brandy from his dispensary and he moistened the
patient's temples, which quickly revived him, and he was able to be
moved. . . ."
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