A Trivial Incident (Chekhov)
Short summary
Russia, late 19th century. A narrator and Prince Sergey Ivanitch went hunting in the Shabelsky pine forest. When they encountered a clerk named Grontovsky who forbade them from shooting, the narrator offered to seek permission from the forest owner, Nadyezhda Lvovna Kandurin.
The prince declined to accompany the narrator, revealing he once knew Nadyezhda Lvovna. While driving to her estate, the prince confessed his financial troubles and feelings of incompetence. The narrator learned from local gossip that years ago, the prince and Nadyezhda had been in love before she married someone else.
At the estate, the narrator met Nadyezhda Lvovna, who initially refused permission to hunt. However, when he mentioned the prince was with him, she went to the window and watched him from afar.
It is hard to describe the delight and the suffering with which her ugly face was radiant! Her eyes were smiling and shining, her lips were quivering and laughing... she reminded me of a dog pointing and waiting with passionate impatience.
When the prince fired at a hawk, Nadyezhda hid her face, seemingly to conceal tears. As the narrator left, a maidservant handed him a note granting permission to hunt, signed by Nadyezhda.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
Introduction of the prince and his circumstances
On a sunny August day, the narrator went woodcock hunting with a Russian prince who had fallen on hard times. The prince was a tall, dark man with long mustaches and prominent black eyes. Despite his noble title, he was poor, having somehow squandered the thirty to forty thousand roubles he had inherited from his father.
I personally found the poor prince extremely nice with his misfortunes and failures, which made up indeed his whole life. First of all he was poor. He did not play cards, did not drink, had no occupation...
The prince had lent money to many landowners in the district, who never repaid him. He gave to all who asked, not from kindness but from an exaggerated sense of gentlemanliness. By the time the narrator met him, the prince was deeply in debt with no hope of recovery. His second misfortune was his complete solitude - he had no wife, friends, or relations, and his reserved character prevented him from forming close relationships.
Encounter with Grontovsky in the forest
After reaching the forest, the narrator and the prince walked along a narrow path hidden among ferns. Before they had gone a hundred paces, a tall, lank man with a long oval face appeared from behind a young fir tree. He wore a shabby reefer jacket, a straw hat, and patent leather boots, and carried a basket of mushrooms.
The stranger was startled to see them but quickly composed himself. With an agreeable smile, he approached them, introduced himself as Grontovsky, the head clerk on Madame Kandurin's estate, and informed them that shooting was forbidden in this forest. When the narrator protested that he had been shooting there just the previous week, Grontovsky maintained that it was his duty to enforce the prohibition.
Despite the narrator's arguments, Grontovsky remained firm, clearly enjoying his position of authority. He suggested that they could seek permission from Madame Kandurin herself, whose house was only half a mile away. If she provided a note, he would allow them to hunt.
Decision to visit Madame Kandurin
The narrator agreed to visit Madame Kandurin, as it was closer than returning home. He suggested that Prince Sergey Ivanitch go instead, since he knew her. The prince, however, declined, saying it would be awkward for him and that his clothes were too shabby. He insisted that the narrator go instead, as he did not know her and it would be more appropriate.
The narrator knew of Nadyezhda Lvovna only by reputation. She was incredibly wealthy, having inherited several estates, a stud farm, and a lot of money from her father. Though only in her mid-twenties, she was said to be ugly and uninteresting, distinguished only by her immense wealth.
The princes refusal to go and his confessions
As they drove toward the manor house, the prince began to speak about his financial troubles. He confessed that Rogozhin had refused to honor his note, and by September sixth, he needed to have money ready for the bank to pay interest on his estate. He was in a desperate situation, with no clear way out.
When the narrator asked what the prince would do if his estate, Shatilovka, were sold, the prince admitted he couldn't imagine life without secure daily bread. He lamented his lack of education and skills, feeling he was unfit for government service or any other occupation. Unlike others who confidently took on positions they were ill-suited for, the prince felt he lacked the necessary boldness and self-confidence.
A man once said, wanting to annoy me, that I have the face of a cardsharper... I tell you frankly I have had the chance once in my life of getting rich if I had told a lie... But I could not. I hadn't the pluck!
As they approached the gates of Madame Kandurin's house, the prince made this confession about his inability to lie for personal gain. The narrator understood that this referred to the prince's past relationship with Nadyezhda Lvovna, though the details remained unspoken between them.
Narrators visit to Madame Kandurins estate
The narrator left the prince at the gates and proceeded through a copse along a straight road lined with thick, lopped lilacs. The house appeared heavy and tasteless, rising clumsily from the greenery. At the entrance, he was met by a fat old footman in a green swallowtail coat and silver-rimmed spectacles, who looked contemptuously at his dusty figure.
Inside, the narrator walked through several rooms with bright yellow floors and lustres wrapped in stiff muslin. In the drawing room, he found old-fashioned furniture in white covers. The house was eerily silent and still, with daylight barely penetrating through the lowered blinds. After a few minutes, an elderly woman in black with a bandaged cheek entered and raised the blinds, bringing light into the room.
Meeting and conversation with Madame Kandurin
Shortly after, Nadyezhda Lvovna appeared. The narrator was struck by her ugliness - she was short, scraggy, and round-shouldered. However, her thick chestnut hair was magnificent, and her face showed youth and intelligence, though her charm was diminished by her thick lips and over-acute facial angle.
Her face, pure and with a look of culture in it, was aglow with youth; there was a clear and intelligent expression in her eyes; but the whole charm of her head was lost through the thickness of her lips and the over-acute facial angle.
The narrator explained his request, but Madame Kandurin hesitated. She explained that shooting had been forbidden on her estate for six years, and she didn't like to break established rules or show unfairness by making exceptions. She questioned why anyone would want to shoot birds at all, suggesting it was a needless cruelty.
A solitary life, immured within four walls, with its indoor twilight and heavy smell of decaying furniture, disposes people to sentimentality. Madame Kandurin's idea did her credit, but I could not resist saying...
The revelation of past connections and emotions
The narrator countered her sentimentality by pointing out that if one took that line of thinking, one should go barefoot since boots are made from slaughtered animals. Madame Kandurin replied that one must distinguish between necessity and caprice. During their conversation, she stood by the window overlooking the shrubbery and the gate where the prince was waiting.
When the narrator mentioned that Prince Sergey Ivanitch was with him, Madame Kandurin started and fixed her gaze on him. She then turned to look out the window, where she could see the prince standing by the gate. Though she tried to maintain the conversation, her attention was clearly fixed on the prince's figure.
The narrator observed her reaction with interest. Despite her ugliness, her face radiated delight and suffering as she watched the prince. Her eyes smiled, her lips quivered, and she leaned closer to the window panes, reminding the narrator of a dog pointing and waiting with passionate impatience.
I looked at her and at the prince who could not tell a lie once in his life, and I felt angry and bitter against truth and falsehood, which play such an elemental part in the personal happiness of men.
Departure and shooting permission
At that moment, the prince fired at a hawk flying overhead. Madame Kandurin remained silent when the narrator again asked for permission to shoot. As he prepared to leave, apologizing for the disturbance, she turned away, hiding her face behind the hangings as though to conceal tears, and softly said goodbye.
The narrator hurried away, glad to escape from what he felt was a domain of gilded boredom and sadness. As he reached the front door, a maidservant overtook him and thrust a note into his hand. It read: "Shooting is permitted on showing this. N. K."
I was glad to get away from this little domain of gilded boredom and sadness, and I hastened as though anxious to shake off a heavy, fantastic dream with its twilight, its enchanted princess, its lustres...