Neighbours (Chekhov)
Short summary
Rural Russia, late 19th century. Pyotr Mihalitch Ivashin was deeply troubled by his sister Zina's decision to leave home and live with Vlassitch, a married man. His mother remained in her room all day, while the household was filled with uncomfortable silence.
When a letter from Zina arrived, Pyotr's mother refused to read it, and in anger, he tore it up. Later, while walking through his fields, he decided he must confront Vlassitch. He rode to Vlassitch's estate during a gathering storm, planning to horsewhip him, but his resolve weakened upon arrival.
Vlassitch welcomed him warmly and spoke of his reverence for Zina. He explained he couldn't marry her because his estranged wife demanded seventy-five thousand for a divorce. When Zina appeared, she asked if their mother would ever accept their relationship. Pyotr couldn't answer directly but felt their happiness was impossible.
"I am an old woman!" thought Pyotr Mihalitch. "I went to solve the question and I have only made it more complicated... And thinking about his life, he came to the conclusion he had never said or acted upon what he really thought..."
Riding home in the darkness, Pyotr stopped by a pond and reflected on his sister's situation. He imagined her future humiliation and their mother's death from grief. Looking at the dark water, he realized his life seemed as murky and tangled as the pond weeds, with no clear solution in sight.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
Pyotrs distress over his sisters departure
Pyotr Mihalitch Ivashin was deeply troubled by his sister's decision to leave home and live with Vlassitch, a married man. Despite his own liberal views on free love, he could not shake off the feeling that his sister had acted wrongly and that Vlassitch had essentially abducted her.
Pyotr Mihalitch was very much out of humour: his sister, a young girl, had gone away to live with Vlassitch, a married man. To shake off the despondency and depression which pursued him at home and in the fields...
The atmosphere at home had become unbearable. His mother remained in her room all day, refusing to eat. The old nurse sighed and whispered, while his aunt threatened to leave daily, her trunks repeatedly brought down to the hall only to be carried back up to her room.
In the house, in the yard, and in the garden it was as still as though there were someone dead in the house. His aunt, the servants, and even the peasants, so it seemed to Pyotr Mihalitch, looked at him enigmatically...
News from Zina and Pyotrs decision to visit
On the seventh day, a Sunday afternoon, a messenger on horseback arrived with a letter. The handwriting was familiar - it was from Zina, addressed to "Her Excy. Anna Nikolaevna Ivashin." Pyotr found something defiant in the handwriting and the abbreviation, reflecting his sister's stubborn and uncompromising nature.
When Pyotr brought the letter to his mother, she refused to read it. Her face grew ugly with pain, and she pushed the letter away as if it burned her fingers. Overcome with anger, Pyotr ran outside and shouted at the messenger that there would be no answer. He tore up the letter, then felt tears come to his eyes as he realized his own cruelty.
Tormented by the situation, Pyotr went out into the fields to think. The day was hot and still, with the scent of pines and rotting leaves in the air. As he walked through his crops, he realized that this intolerable situation could not continue. He had to end it somehow, even if stupidly or madly.
After much internal struggle, Pyotr decided to confront Vlassitch directly. All his anger and bitterness that had accumulated over the past week focused on the man who had taken his sister away. He returned home, mounted the steward's horse, and galloped off toward Vlassitch's estate, determined to take action.
Pyotrs journey to Vlassitchs estate
As Pyotr rode through his woods and wasteland, a tempest raged within him. He longed to do something extraordinary, even if he would regret it for the rest of his life. Initially, he considered calling Vlassitch a blackguard, slapping him, or challenging him to a duel. But he knew Vlassitch was not the type to fight duels - such confrontation would only make the already unhappy man more miserable.
He was riding through his wood and waste land, and he imagined Zina would try to justify her conduct by talking about the rights of women and individual freedom, and about there being no difference between legal marriage and free union.
Pyotr decided he would horsewhip Vlassitch in front of Zina and tell him exactly what he thought of him. He imagined his sister would argue about women's rights and individual freedom, concepts she didn't truly understand. She might even question his right to interfere, to which he grimly thought that having no right made his intended harshness all the better.
The weather was sultry, with clouds of gnats hanging over the ground and peewits calling plaintively in the waste places. Everything suggested rain was coming. Pyotr crossed the boundary of his estate and galloped over a smooth field, passing familiar landmarks - a red church in the distance and Count Koltonovitch's copse to the right.
Behind the church and the count's copse, a huge black storm cloud was rising, with flashes of white lightning. The approaching storm seemed to mirror Pyotr's inner turmoil. His horse tired from the gallop, and Pyotr himself felt scared. The storm cloud looked at him angrily, as if advising him to return home.
The uncomfortable reunion with Vlassitch
As thunder rumbled, Pyotr rode through the copse and across a meadow that led to Vlassitch's house. Rain began to fall in big drops. The property was lined with tall, lanky birch trees that seemed to share their owner's melancholy air. Through a break in the fence, Pyotr could see the neglected orchard.
By now, Pyotr had forgotten about the horsewhip and slap. He felt nervous and frightened at the thought of seeing his sister. He wondered what they would talk about and considered turning back. As he rode up the avenue of lime trees, he suddenly saw Vlassitch coming from the corner of the house, wearing a cotton shirt and top-boots, with no hat in the rain. A workman with a hammer and box of nails followed him.
Seeing Pyotr, Vlassitch stopped and smiled, saying it was nice to see him. Pyotr responded stiffly, brushing rain off himself. Vlassitch seemed hesitant to offer his hand, waiting for Pyotr to make the first move. Instead, Vlassitch commented on the rain being good for the oats, and they entered the house in silence.
They went into a small room used by the steward in winter. Pyotr sat on the bed, glad for the noise of the rain and the darkness that made the encounter less dreadful. His anger had dissipated, replaced by fear and vexation with himself. He felt he had made a poor beginning to the visit.
After an awkward silence, Vlassitch thanked Pyotr for coming, calling it generous and noble. He explained that they had kept Zina's departure secret not from lack of trust, but because everything happened suddenly, like an inspiration. He claimed it was a private matter, and they had counted on Pyotr's generosity. Vlassitch spoke in an agitated manner, offering his life if Pyotr should ever need it.
"Listen, Grigory. You know I liked you and could have desired no better husband for my sister; but what has happened is awful! It's terrible to think of it!" "Why is it terrible?" asked Vlassitch, with a quiver in his voice.
Pyotr responded that while he had liked Vlassitch and would have welcomed him as a brother-in-law, what had happened was terrible. When Vlassitch asked why it was terrible, Pyotr explained that they had acted selfishly, causing their mother immense suffering.
"Because one's actions hurt other people, it doesn't prove that they are wrong. If you went to fight for freedom, that would distress your mother, too. What's to be done! Anyone who puts the peace of his family before everything has to renounce the life of ideas completely."
Meeting Zina and confronting reality
A flash of lightning at the window seemed to change Vlassitch's train of thought. He sat beside Pyotr and began speaking of his reverence for Zina, calling her something higher than a wife - his holy of holies. Since she had come to live with him, he entered his house as if it were a temple. Pyotr disliked Vlassitch's use of the word "woman" and asked why they couldn't marry properly.
Vlassitch explained that his wife wanted seventy-five thousand for a divorce, an impossible sum. He then launched into the story of his disastrous marriage. He had wed on impulse after a battalion commander in his regiment had seduced and abandoned an eighteen-year-old girl. To spite the commander and out of sympathy for the girl, Vlassitch had married her. His fellow officers considered the marriage inappropriate, which only strengthened his resolve.
After resigning his commission, Vlassitch had brought his wife to his estate. With his father's debts and no money, he was forced to mortgage the property as his wife began making acquaintances, dressing smartly, and playing cards. She led a bad life, and after two years, he gave her everything to set her free. Now he paid her twelve hundred roubles a year. Vlassitch described her as a woman who hated him for his stupidity in marrying her.
As Vlassitch spoke, Pyotr wondered what his sister saw in this man. At forty-one, Vlassitch was lean and lanky, with a long nose and grey hairs in his beard. He spoke in a droning voice, had a sickly smile, and waved his hands awkwardly. He lacked health, pleasant manners, and gaiety. His estate was in terrible condition, mortgaged with high interest, and he was deeply in debt.
Vlassitch was a poor farmer who mismanaged his property. He sold winter fuel and straw at low prices, then chopped up garden fences for heating. His meadows were ruined by pigs, cattle strayed in his woods, and old trees disappeared yearly. In practical life, he was weak and naive, easily deceived. The peasants called him "simple."
And Pyotr Mihalitch felt all the bitterness and horror of his position. He thought of his deserted home, the closed piano, and Zina's bright little room into which no one went now; he thought there were no prints of little feet on the garden-paths...
Suddenly, Vlassitch called out to Zina, who immediately entered the dining room. She was tall, plump, and very pale, wearing a black skirt and red blouse with a large buckle on her belt - the same outfit Pyotr had last seen her in at home. She embraced her brother and kissed him on the temple, showing no embarrassment. Looking at her, Pyotr also lost his discomfort.
Zina commented on the storm, mentioning that Vlassitch had gone somewhere, leaving her alone in the large house. She spoke about the history of the house - how Vlassitch's grandfather had shot himself in her room, and someone had been flogged to death in the dining room. Vlassitch elaborated on this story, telling of a Frenchman named Olivier who had once leased the estate and mistreated Russians, particularly the clergy and serfs.
According to the story, a divinity student had come seeking lodging and was given work at the estate. Either the student stirred up the peasants or Olivier's daughter fell in love with him. Olivier had the student beaten to death while drinking claret at the very table where they now sat. The body was supposedly thrown into Koltovitch's pond. Olivier paid off the authorities and returned to Alsace when his lease expired.
Zina grew thoughtful at this tale, seemingly carried away by the story of the divinity student and the beautiful French girl. Pyotr sensed that something had changed between them. Before, he could have spoken to her about anything, but now he couldn't even ask how she liked living here. She made no attempt to defend free unions or criticize traditional marriage.
The journey home and final reflections
Zina brought in strawberries, followed by a humble maidservant who set down a jug of milk. As Pyotr ate, Vlassitch and Zina watched him in silence. The moment for an inevitable but useless conversation approached, and all three felt its burden. Pyotr's eyes filled with tears again, and he said he should be going home.
Zina asked about their mother and whether she might one day accept Grigory and their situation. Pyotr avoided answering directly, suggesting she should ask forgiveness. Zina replied that asking forgiveness would mean admitting wrongdoing, and while she would lie to comfort their mother, it wouldn't help. They would wait patiently for five or ten years, and then God's will would be done.
"We'll wait for five years, ten years, and be patient, and then God's will be done." She took her brother's arm, and when she walked through the dark hall she squeezed close to him. It was still and warm, with a delicious smell of hay...
Pyotr said goodbye and mounted his horse. Zina and Vlassitch walked a little way with him. Vlassitch spoke enthusiastically about an article on emigration he had read to Zina, saying he had written to the editor to thank the author. Pyotr was tempted to tell him not to meddle in what didn't concern him but remained silent.
Now as they walked by the horse with submissive faces, lost in thought, he had a deep conviction that they were unhappy, and could not be happy, and their love seemed to him a melancholy, irreparable mistake.
Overcome with pity, Pyotr offered to visit occasionally. Feeling this was inadequate, he bent down to Zina and told her she had done well. Then he galloped into the woods to avoid saying more and bursting into tears. Looking back, he saw them walking home together, Vlassitch taking long strides while Zina walked with a hurried, jerky step beside him, talking eagerly about something.
As he rode home, Pyotr felt heavy-hearted. He stopped his horse near the pond where the moon was reflected in a red streak on the water. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He imagined his sister's future despair, her humiliation, perhaps pregnancy, and their mother's death. He saw himself among these tragic figures as a weak, cowardly man with a guilty face. Looking at the dark water, he concluded that life seemed as dark and tangled as the water-weeds in the pond, with nothing that could ever set it right.