The Woman in the Case

Smvchkov, A musician, was walking from town to Prince Bibulov's country villa where, to celebrate an engagement, there was to be an evening of music and dancing. On his back lay an enormous double-bass in a leather case. Smychkov was walking along the bank of a river, the cool water of which was running if not majestically, at least extremely romantically.

Shall I have a bathe? he thought.

Without further ado he undressed and plunged his body in the cool current. It was a gorgeous evening. Smychkov's romantic soul was beginning to harmonize with its surroundings. But what a blissful feeling seized his heart when, after swimming along about a hundred paces, he saw a beautiful girl sitting on the steep bank fishing. He held his breath, overwhelmed by a welter of mixed feelings: reminiscences of childhood, nostalgia for the past, awakening love . . . Good heavens, and he had thought that he could nd longer love! After he had lost faith in humanity (his wife, whom he had loved passionately, had run away with his friend Sobakin, the bassoon-player), his heart had been filled with a feeling of emptiness, and he had become a misanthrope.

What is life? He had asked himself the question more than once. What do we live for? Life is a myth, a dream . . . ventriloquy . . .

But standing before the sleeping beauty (it was not difficult to observe that she was asleep), suddenly, regardless of his will, he felt in his breast something resembling love. He stood before her for a long time, devouring her with his eyes.

But that's enough, he thought, letting out a deep sigh. Farewell, lovely vision! It's time I went to His Highness's ball.He looked once more at the beauty, and was just about to swim back, when an idea (lashed through his mind.

I must leave her something to remember me by! he thought. I'll hitch something on to her line. It'll be a surprise from "person unknown."

Smychkov swam quietly to the bank, picked a large bunch of field and water flowers and, tying it up with a bit of pigweed, he hitched it on to the hook.

The bouquet fell to the bottom, and took the pretty float down with it.

Prudence, the laws of nature, and my hero's social position demand that the romance end at this precise point, but – alas! an author's fate is inexorable: owing to circumstances beyond the author's control the romance did not end with a bouquet. Tn spite of common sense and the nature of things, the poor and humble double-bass player was to play an important part in the life of the rich and noble beauty.

When he swam to the bank, Smych-kov was thunderstruck: he could not see his clothes. They had been stolen. While he had been admiring the beauty, some unknown rascals had carried off everything except the double-bass and his top hat.

"Damnation," exclaimed Smychkov. "Oh men, you generation of vipers! I don't so much resent being deprived of my clothes – for clothes decay – as the thought that I shall have to go stark naked and thus violate social morality."

He sat down on the double-bass case and tried to find a way out of his awful predicament.

I can't go to Prince Bibulov's with nothing on! he thought. There'll be ladies there! And besides, with my trousers the thieves have taken the rosin which was in them!

He thought for a long time, painfully, till his head ached.

Oh! he remembered at last. Not far from the bank, in the bushes, there's a little bridge. I can sit under the bridge until it gets dark, and when night falls I'll creep to the nearest cottage ...

Dwelling on this thought, Smychkov put on his top hat, hoisted the double-bass on his back, and trudged along to the bushes. Naked, with the musical instrument on his back, he was reminiscent of some ancient, mythical demi-god.

Now, reader, while my hero is sitting under the bridge and giving himself up to sorrow, let us leave him for a time and turn our attention to the girl who was fishing. What happened to her? When the beauty woke up and did not see the float on the water, she hastened to give her rod a jerk. The rod strained, but the hook and float did not appear from under the water. Evidently Smych-kov's bouquet had become sodden in the water, had swollen and grown heavy.

Either there's a big fish caught on it, thought the girl, or else the hook has got entangled.

After jerking the rod a bit more, the girl decided that the hook had got entangled.

What a pity! she thought. And they bite so well in the evening. What shall 1 do?

And without further ado the eccentric girl threw off her diaphanous clothes and plunged her lovely body in the current right up to her marble shoulders. It was not easy to unhook the bouquet,which had become entangled with the line, but patience and labor won the day. After about a quarter of an hour the beauty came out of the water, radiant and happy, holding the hook in her hand.

But she was in the hands of cruel fortune. The scoundrels who had taken Smychkov's clothes had abducted her dress too. leaving her nothing but a jar full of worms.

What shall I do now? she wept. Must I really go about like this? No, never! Death would be better! I'll wait until it gets dark; then, in the darkness I'll get as far as Agafia's and send her home for a dress. . . And while I'm waiting I'll hide under the bridge.

Choosing a way where the grass was longest and bending down, my heroine ran to the bridge. When she crawled under the bridge she saw there a naked man with a musical mane and a hairy chest; she gave a cry and fainted.

Smychkov was frightened too. At first he took the girl for a naiad.

Is this a river siren, come to lure me? he thought, and he found this conjecture tempting, for he had always had a very high opinion of his personal appearance. And if she's not a siren, but a human being, how can this strange transformation be explained? Why is she here, under the bridge? And what is the matter with her?

While he was deciding these questions, the beauty came to.

"Don't kill me!" she whispered. "I am Princess Bibulova. I beseech you! You'll be given a lot of money! I was in the water just now disentangling my hook, and some thieves stole my new dress, shoes and everything!"

"Madam," said Smychkov in an imploring voice, "they stole my clothes too. And what's more, together with my trousers they carried off my rosin which was in them!"

Usually no double-bass and trombone players have any presence of mind; Smychkov, however, was a pleasant exception.

"Madam," he said, after a moment, "I see that you are embarrassed by my appearance. But, you will agree, I cannot leave this place for the same reasons as yourself. I've got an idea: would you care to lie down in my double-bass case and cover yourself with the lid? That would hide me from you . . ."

Having said this, Smychkov pulled the double-bass out of its case. For a moment it seemed to him that, in handing over the case, he was profaning Sacred Art, but he did not hesitate for long. The beauty lay down in the case and curled herself up in a ball, while he tightened the straps and began to rejoice that Nature had endowed him with such brains.

"Now, madam, you can't see me," he said. "Lie there, and don't worry. When it's dark I'll carry you to your parents' house. I can come back here for the double-bass later."

When darkness fell Smychkov hoisted the case with the beauty inside it on to his shoulders, and trudged off in the direction of the Bibulov's villa. His plan was as follows: to begin with, he would go as far as the first cottage and acquire some cloths, and then go on ...

Every cloud has a silver lining, he thought, scattering the dust with his bare feet and bending under his burden; Bibulov will probably reward me handsomely for the warm interest I have taken in the princess's fate.

"Are you comfortable, madam?" he asked, in the tone of a cavalier galant inviting a lady to a quadrille. "Please don't stand on ceremony, and do make yourself absolutely at home in my case!"Suddenly the gallant Smychkov thought he saw two human figures wrapped in darkness walking ahead of him. On looking more closely, he became convinced that this was not an optical illusion: two figures were, in fact, walking along, and were even carrying some sort of bundles in their hands . . .

I wonder if those are the thieves? the thought flashed through his mind. They're carrying something. It's probably our clothes!

Smychkov put the case down on the road, and started in pursuit of the figures.

"Stop!" he cried. "Stop! Stop thief!"

The figures looked around and, seeing they were being pursued, took to their heels . . . For a long time the princess heard rapid footsteps and cries of "Stop!' At last all was silent.

Smychkov was carried away by the chase, and probably the beauty would have had to lie in the field by the road for a good while longer, if it had not been for a happy coincidence. It so happened at that very time and along that very road Smychkov's friends Zhuch-kov, the flute-player, and Razmakhaikin, the clarinettist, were walking to the Bibulov's villa. They stumbled over the case, both looked at each other, and raised their hands in amazement.

"Double-bass!" said Zhuchkov. "Why it's our Smychkov's double-bass! But how did it get here?"

"Probably something happened to Smychkov," decided Razmakhaikin. "Either he got drunk, or else he was robbed. In any case, it wouldn't be right to leave the double-bass here. Let's take it with us."

Zhuchkov hoisted the case on his back, and the musicians continued on their way.

"It's the devil of a weight!" the flute-player grumbled all the time. "I would not agree to play a monster like this for anything in the world . . . ugh!"

When they arrived at Prince Bibulov's villa the musicians put the case down in the place reserved for the orchestra, and went to the bar.

The chandeliers and sconces were already lit in the villa. The fiance\ La-keich, a handsome and attractive official of the Ministry of Transport, was standing in the middle of the ballroom and, with his hands in his pockets, was chatting with Count Shkalikov. They were talking about music.

"You know, Count," said Lakeich, "in Naples I was personally acquainted with a violinist who really performed miracles. You wouldn't believe it! On the double-bass. On an ordinary double-bass he produced such devilish trills that it was simply amazing! He played Strauss waltzes!"

"Come now, that's impossible," said the count, skeptically.

"I assure you! He even performed a Liszt rhapsody! I was living in the same hotel as he was, and as I had nothing better to do he taught me how to play a Liszt rhapsody on the double-bass."

"A Liszt rhapsody! Mmm – you're joking ..."

"You don't believe me?" laughed Lakeich. "Then I'll prove it to you now! Let's go to the orchestra!"

The fiance and the count went ofE to the orchestra. They went up to the double-bass, and began quickly to undo the straps . . . and – oh, horror!

But there, while the reader, giving his imagination free rein, pictures the outcome of the musical argument, let us turn to Smychkov . . . The unfortunate musician did not catch up with the thieves, and when he returned to the place where he had left the case he did not find his valuable burden. Lost in conjecture, he walked up and down the road several times and, not seeing the case, decided that he must be on the wrong road . . .

This is awful! he thought, tearing his hair, and his blood running cold. She'll suffocate in the case! I'm a murderer!

He walked the roads and searched for the case till midnight, but finally, dead beat, he went back under the bridge.

I'll have another look at dawn, he decided.

His search at dawn yielded the same result, and Smychkov decided to wait for night under the bridge.

"I'll find her!" he muttered, taking off his top hat and tearing his hair. "I'll find her, if I have to search for a year!"

And still, so the peasants living in those parts say, at night near the bridge a nude man may be seen, overgrown with hair and wearing a top hat. Now and again, from under the bridge, can be heard the rumble of a double-bass.

"Don't kill me, I beseech you!" said the Princess.