Read Online Five Great Short Stories by ANTON CHEKHOV - Free Book Online Page B

you, the question greatly interests me.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œIn my opinion there is absolutely no need for a medical station at Malozyomov.”
    My irritation affected her: she gave a glance at me, half closed her eyes and said:
    â€œWhat is wanted then? Landscapes?”
    â€œNot landscapes either. Nothing is wanted there.”
    She finished taking off her gloves and took up a newspaper which had just come by post; a moment later, she said quietly, apparently controlling herself:
    â€œLast week Anna died in childbirth, and if a medical man had been available she would have lived. However, I suppose landscape-painters are entitled to their opinions.”
    â€œI have a very definite opinion, I assure you,” said I, and she took refuge behind the newspaper, as though she did not wish to listen. “In my opinion medical stations, schools, libraries, pharmacies, under existing conditions, only lead to slavery. The masses are caught in a vast chain: you do not cut it but only add new links to it. That is my opinion.”
    She looked at me and smiled mockingly, and I went on, striving to catch the thread of my ideas.
    â€œIt does not matter that Anna should die in childbirth, but it does matter that all these Annas, Marfas, Pelagueyas, from dawn to sunset should be grinding away, ill from overwork, all their lives worried about their starving sickly children; all their lives they are afraid of death and disease, and have to be looking after themselves; they fade in youth, grow old very early, and die in filth and dirt; their children as they grow up go the same way and hundreds of years slip by and millions of people live worse than animals—in constant dread of never having a crust to eat; but the horror of their position is that they have no time to think of their souls, no time to remember that they are made in the likeness of God; hunger, cold, animal fear, incessant work, like drifts of snow block all the ways to spiritual activity, to the very thing that distinguishes man from the animals, and is the only thing indeed that makes life worth living. You come to their assistance with hospitals and schools, but you do not free them from their fetters; on the contrary, you enslave them even more, since by introducing new prejudices into their lives, you increase the number of their demands, not to mention the fact that they have to pay the Zemstvo for their drugs and pamphlets, and therefore, have to work harder than ever.”
    â€œI will not argue with you,” said Lyda. “I have heard all that.” She put down her paper. “I will only tell you one thing, it is no good sitting with folded hands. It is true, we do not save mankind, and perhaps we do make mistakes, but we do what we can and we are right. The highest and most sacred truth for an educated being—is to help his neighbours, and we do what we can to help. You do not like it, but it is impossible to please everybody.”
    â€œTrue, Lyda, true,” said her mother.
    In Lyda’s presence her courage always failed her, and as she talked she would look timidly at her, for she was afraid of saying something foolish or out of place: and she never contradicted, but would always agree: “True, Lyda, true.”
    â€œTeaching peasants to read and write, giving them little moral pamphlets and medical assistance, cannot decrease either ignorance or mortality, just as the light from your windows cannot illuminate this huge garden,” I said. “You give nothing by your interference in the lives of these people. You only create new demands, and a new compulsion to work.”
    â€œAh! My God, but we must do something!” said Lyda exasperatedly, and I could tell by her voice that she thought my opinions negligible and despised me.
    â€œIt is necessary,” I said, “to free people from hard physical work. It is necessary to relieve them of their yoke, to give them breathing space, to save them