Chekhov was rather happy to move on to Paris, where he found the people magnificent and the city enchanting. But he arrived on May Day,2 and was caught up in a police charge against demonstrating workers and somewhat roughly treated. There were many Russians in Paris, some of whom entertained him — among them old Pleshcheev, who, after Chekhov had left for Sakhalin, had inherited a huge fortune. At a dinner this former editor of the Northern Herald, who had driven sharp bargains with Chekhov for his contributions to the magazines, now tried to force a loan of a thousand roubles on him in an effort to persuade him to remain longer in Paris. Chekhov firmly refused. But months later, with that delicacy that was so characteristic of him, he felt obliged to write Pleshcheev to apologize for rejecting the loan and to assure him that if he had needed the money he would have borrowed it from him as readily as from Suvorin. With his almost morbid fear of offending a friend, Chekhov was ready to ask Pleshcheev to forgive him for not borrowing money from him!
In truth, Chekhov had at last become bored with the trip, and Suvorin's insistence on the completion of his portrait by a Paris painter, which prevented them from getting back to Moscow in time for Easter, particularly annoyed him. It was the first Easter that he had missed with his family since coming to Moscow, and he regretted it. In Paris he thought of the Moscow church bells on Easter Eve, pealing forth the joy of Resurrection, a performance which he loved to hear. There, after going from church to church, he would return home in the early hours of the morning and the family would sing: "Christ Is Risen." He wrote his sister: "Men who tie boa-constrictors around their bodies, ladies who kick to the ceiling, flying people, lions, cafes chantants, dinners and luncheons — all begin to sicken me. It is time I was home. I want to work." (April 24, 1891.) He arrived in Moscow on May 2 after some six weeks abroad.
* 3»
The day after he returned from Paris — from Sodom and Gomorrah, where he had seen naked women, he told his friend A. I. Urusov — Chekhov left Moscow for the dacha at Alcksin which Misha had rented for the family. Since the plan to share a summer house with the Suvorins had not materialized, Chekhov, while abroad, had instructed his brother to find a house, and Misha, then a tax assessor in Alcksin,
2 Chekhov arrived in Paris on April 19 Old Style by the Russian calendar, which would be May 1 in Europe.
a town in the province of Tula, an overnight trip from Moscow, had taken the easy way out by selecting this dacha, not far from the town and near the Oka River. The little four-room house, from which one could see a railroad bridge across the river, disappointed Chekhov. After traveling abroad, life in this crowded "villa" seemed a bit vapid; he felt like a prisoner in a fortress.
Chekhov's main concern now was to get back to his writing. The trip had thrown him heavily into debt and this fact depressed him. lie assured Suvorin that the eight hundred roubles he owed him personally would receive first claim and the thousand advance which he had taken from New Times would have to wait a bit. His financial responsibilities for his sister, for Misha, and for Ivan had ended, for all three were earning adequate salaries. In fact, he was proud of Ivan, whose stubborn efforts had been rewarded by a government medal for excellence in teaching and a new and advanced position in Moscow. The usual precarious situation of the unstable Alexander in Petersburg, however, became critical this summer because of the birth of another child.3 In his need for funds in this emergency, Alexander had not scrupled to use his brother's name and "borrow" money from Anton's earnings at Suvorin's publishing house. He confessed the transaction later and eventually repaid the sum. Instead of being angry, Chekhov gave him permission to make use of this account if at any time he urgently needed money. Though Chekhov feared being in debt himself, he lent money with thoughtless abandon. Nor did he hesitate at this time, when circumstances had released him from some of his old family obligations, to assume still another one, for he agreed with his aging father that he should quit his job at Gavrilov's and live permanently at home. As a regular member of the family again, Father Chekhov added an old but familiar increment of unpleasantness to the dinner table conversation.
On Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays Chekhov worked away on his Sakhalin book. He intended to direct his attack against life sentences of exiles, he infomied Suvorin, asking him to send additional source material —for his observations had taught him that the convict, de-' prived of all hope of ever returning to his native land and to his relatives and friends, loses his moral sense and his grip on reality. The' other days of the week he devoted to The Duel, except Sundays when
3 This was Mikhail Chekhov, the future distinguished actor of the Moscow Art Theater.
he wrote short stories. He worked with zest in this crowded country household where he felt like a crayfish in a net with a lot of other crayfish. What he missed most was an opportunity to read serious literature, the balm for his soul. He envied Misha who had plenty of time to read foreign authors in the original and occasionally to do professional translations. Chekhov always regretted his ignorance of foreign languages, for every time he read a translation, he kept altering and transposing the words in his brain. If he could only have done the translation himself, he once remarked, he was sure it would have turned out light and ethereal, like lacework.
In the middle of May the arrival of Lidiya Mizinova and Levitan interrupted Chekhov's rigorous work schedule. Much merriment ensued over the problem of where to sleep the guests in the tiny, crowded dacha. As usual, Chekhov was in his element in the company of the beautiful Lika, who unfailingly stimulated his sense of fun. Over the last two years this captivating girl had become an intimate with the family. Though she was only ten years younger than Chekhov, the brother-sister relationship that had initially developed between them involved nuances which went much deeper with the passage of time. These stronger emotions were especially evident on Lika's side. The "brother" pose took the form of frequent advice on her health, on eating starchy foods, her social deportment, and the details of her career. The "lover" aspect was a curious combination of seriousness and elaborate raillery, as though he wished to discourage an affection which he suspected but yet was afraid did not exist. In his many letters to her he utters mock imprecations against her wooers, real or imaginary, or he pleads with her to visit: "Come to smell the flowers, to walk, to fish, and to blubber. Ah, lovely Lika! When you wet my right shoulder with your tears (I have taken out the spots with benzine) . . ." Or he pretends to be one of her lovers sending her his photograph (that of some unknown youth): "I'm sending you my ugly face. We'll be seeing each other tomorrow. Don't forget your Petka. A thousand kisses!!! I've bought Chekhov's stories. How delightful they are! You buy them, too. My regards to Masha Chekhova. What a sweetheart you are!" Or, under a transparently assumed name, he writes: "I love you passionately, like a tiger, and offer you my hand." (May ij, June- July, 1891.)
Though in all this make-believe Chekhov may have been indulging vicariously , in experiences he had missed as a youth, the condescension
it implies seems eventually to have had the desired effect of chilling the warm hopes of the charming Lika. His behavior compelled her to recognize, however unwillingly, that he had probably already resigned himself to bachelordom. In fact, Chekhov now began to refer to himself < as a confirmed bachelor, and in a letter at this time to Suvorin, who had recently become quite solicitous about his friend's unmarried state, Chekhov replied: "I don't intend to get married. I should like to be a little, bald old man sitting at a big table in a fine study." (May 10, 1891.)