Sleepy (Chekhov)
Short summary
Russia, late 19th century. Thirteen-year-old Varka worked as a nurse for a shoemaker's family, rocking their constantly crying baby in a cradle at night. Exhausted from sleep deprivation, she struggled to keep her eyes open while shadows from the icon lamp danced on the ceiling.
As she rocked the cradle, Varka drifted into memories of her past. She recalled her father's painful death from a ruptured intestine, and how he was taken too late to the hospital. After his death, she and her mother sought work in town, leading to her current position as a servant.
Throughout the day, Varka performed endless chores: heating stoves, cleaning, washing, cooking, and serving. Her mistress and master constantly shouted orders, slapping her when she dozed off. Despite her exhaustion, she was never allowed to sleep.
At last, tired to death, she does her very utmost, strains her eyes, looks up at the flickering green patch, and listening to the screaming, finds the foe who will not let her live. That foe is the baby. She laughs. It seems strange to her that she has failed to grasp such a simple thing before.
In her delirious state, Varka decided to eliminate the obstacle to her sleep. She approached the cradle, strangled the baby, and immediately lay down on the floor. Within moments, she was sleeping as soundly as the dead.
Detailed summary
Division into chapters is editorial.
Varkas exhaustion and her struggle to stay awake
In the dim room lit only by a small green lamp before an icon, thirteen-year-old Varka rocked a cradle while humming a lullaby. The baby inside had been crying for a long time, hoarse and exhausted, yet continued to scream without pause. Shadows from baby clothes and trousers hanging on a string stretched across the room danced on the walls whenever the lamp flickered.
Varka struggled desperately against sleep. Her eyes felt glued together, her head kept drooping, and her neck ached. She could barely move her eyelids or lips, and her face felt wooden and dried out. The constant crying of the baby, combined with the creaking cradle and snoring from the next room, created a soothing night music that would normally be pleasant to someone lying in bed. But for Varka, this music was torturous as it intensified her desperate need for sleep.
The cradle creaks plaintively, Varka murmurs—and it all blends into that soothing music of the night... Now that music is merely irritating and oppressive, because it goads her to sleep, and she must not sleep; if Varka—God forbid!—should fall asleep...
Memories of her fathers illness and death
As Varka fought against sleep, her half-closed eyes began to see misty visions. Dark clouds chased each other across the sky, screaming like the baby. Then she saw a broad, muddy road with people carrying wallets trudging along it. Shadows moved back and forth, and through the cold mist, forests were visible on both sides. Suddenly, the people with their wallets fell to the ground in the mud. When Varka asked why, they answered, "To sleep, to sleep!" and fell into a sweet slumber.
Her mind drifted to memories of her father, Yefim Stepanov, who lay dying on the floor of their dark, stuffy hut. He moaned in pain, saying his "guts have burst," unable to speak properly from the agony, only making drum-like sounds. Varka's mother, Pelageya, had gone to the master's house to report that Yefim was dying.
In her memory, a young doctor from town arrived at their hut. After examining Yefim, whose cheeks were rosy and eyes shining with a peculiar keenness, the doctor determined he needed to go to the hospital immediately for surgery. When Pelageya mentioned they had no horse, the doctor promised to ask their master for one. Later that night, a cart came to take Yefim to the hospital.
The next morning in her memory, Pelageya returned from the hospital with news that Yefim had died. She crossed herself and whispered that he had been taken too late, that he should have gone to the hospital sooner. As Varka cried by the roadside in her memory, she was suddenly struck on the head, bringing her back to reality where her master, the shoemaker, was scolding her for falling asleep while the baby cried.
Daily chores and increasing sleep deprivation
Varka's days were filled with endless work. In the morning, she heated the stove, set the samovar, cleaned the master's galoshes, and washed the steps outside. She swept and dusted the rooms, then heated another stove before running to the shop. There was never a moment's rest.
The most difficult task was standing at the kitchen table peeling potatoes. Her head would droop over the table, the potatoes seemed to dance before her eyes, and the knife often tumbled from her hand while her angry mistress moved about nearby, talking loudly. It was also agonizing to wait at dinner, to wash, and to sew. There were moments when Varka longed to simply collapse on the floor and sleep, regardless of consequences.
But nothing is so hard as standing in the same place at the kitchen table peeling potatoes. Her head droops over the table, the potatoes dance before her eyes, the knife tumbles out of her hand while her fat, angry mistress is moving about near her...
Dream of the high road and her mother
As evening approached, Varka pressed her wooden-feeling temples and smiled without knowing why. The darkness caressed her eyes that could barely stay open, promising sleep soon. But then visitors arrived, and she had to serve them tea, repeatedly heating the small samovar. After tea, she stood for an hour waiting for orders.
The visitors kept her running errands: "Varka, run and buy three bottles of beer!" "Varka, fetch some vodka!" "Varka, where's the corkscrew?" She tried to run as quickly as possible to fight off sleep.
After the visitors finally left and the master and mistress went to bed, Varka was ordered to rock the baby again. As she rocked the cradle, her exhausted mind once more saw the high road with people carrying wallets. In this vision, her mother Pelageya walked beside her, hurrying her along. They were hastening to town to find work, with her mother begging passersby for alms.
Hallucinations and a desperate solution
Suddenly, Varka was jolted from her dream by her mistress's voice. The woman had come to feed the baby, standing in the middle of the room. While the stout woman nursed and soothed the child, Varka stood waiting. Outside, the air was turning blue, and the shadows on the ceiling were growing pale with approaching morning.
After taking the baby back, Varka continued rocking the cradle. Though the green patch and shadows on the ceiling had disappeared, she remained desperately sleepy. She laid her head on the edge of the cradle and rocked her whole body to fight the sleepiness, but her eyes remained glued together and her head felt heavy.
Through her extreme exhaustion, Varka began to understand everything around her but couldn't comprehend the force that bound her, prevented her from living, and kept her from sleeping. She searched for this force, looking around the room, and finally identified her enemy: the baby.
Laughing and winking and shaking her fingers at the green patch, Varka steals up to the cradle and bends over the baby. When she has strangled him, she quickly lies down on the floor, laughs with delight that she can sleep, and in a minute is sleeping as sound as the dead.
A strange hallucination took possession of Varka. She rose from her stool with a broad smile and unblinking eyes, walking around the room. She felt pleased at the thought of soon being free from the baby that bound her. In her delirium, she approached the cradle, strangled the infant, and immediately lay down on the floor. Laughing with delight at the prospect of sleep, Varka fell into a deep slumber, sleeping as soundly as the dead.