Anton Pavlovich Chekhov 



   Fat And Thin


    Two friends - one a  fat  man  and  the  other  a  thin  man - met  at  the 
Nikolaevsky station. The fat man had just dined in the station and  his  greasy 
lips shone like ripe cherries. He smelt of sherry and fleur d'orange. The  thin 
man had just slipped out of the train and was laden with portmanteaus, bundles, 
and bandboxes. He smelt of ham and coffee grounds. A thin  woman  with  a  long 
chin, his wife, and a tall schoolboy with one eye screwed  up  came  into  view 
behind his back. 
    "Porfiry," cried the fat man on seeing the thin man. "Is it  you?  My  dear 
fellow! How many summers, how many winters!" 
    "Holy saints!" cried the thin man in amazement. "Misha! The  friend  of  my 
childhood! Where have you dropped from?" 
    The friends kissed each other three times, and gazed  at  each  other  with 
eyes full of tears. Both were agreeably astounded. 
    "My dear boy!" began the thin man after the kissing. "This  is  unexpected! 
This is a surprise! Come have a good look at me! Just as handsome as I used  to 
be! Just as great a darling and a dandy! Good gracious me! Well,  and  how  are 
you? Made your fortune? Married? I am married as you see...  This  is  my  wife 
Luise, her maiden name  was  Vantsenbach...  of the Lutheran persuasion...  And 
this is my son Nafanail, a schoolboy in the third class. This is the friend  of 
my childhood, Nafanya. We were boys at school together!" 
    Nafanail thought a little and took off his cap. 
    "We were boys at school together," the thin man went on. "Do  you  remember 
how they used to tease you? You were nicknamed Herostratus because you burned a 
hole in a schoolbook with a cigarette, and I was  nicknamed  Ephialtes  because 
I was fond of telling  tales.  Ho-ho!..  we  were  children!..  Don't  be  shy, 
Nafanya. Go  nearer  to  him.  And  this  is  my  wife,  her  maiden  name  was 
Vantsenbach, of the Lutheran persuasion..." 
    Nafanail thought a little and took refuge behind his father's back. 
    "Well,  how  are  you  doing  my  friend?"  the  fat  man  asked,   looking 
enthusiastically at his friend. "Are you in the service? What  grade  have  you 
reached?" 
    "I am, dear boy! I have been a collegiate assessor for the last  two  years 
and I have the Stanislav. The salary is poor, but that's no great  matter!  The 
wife gives music lessons, and I go in for carving  wooden  cigarette  cases  in 
a private way. Capital cigarette cases! I sell them for a rouble each.  If  any 
one takes ten or more I make a reduction  of  course.  We  get  along  somehow. 
I served as a clerk, you know, and now I have been transferred here as  a  head 
clerk in the same department. I am going to serve here.  And  what  about  you? 
I bet you are a civil councillor by now? Eh?" 
    "No dear boy, go higher than that," said the fat  man.  "I  have  risen  to 
privy councillor already... I have two stars." 
    The thin man turned pale and rigid all at once, but soon his  face  twisted 
in all directions in the broadest  smile;  it  seemed  as  though  sparks  were 
flashing from his face and eyes. He squirmed,  he  doubled  together,  crumpled 
up... His portmanteaus, bundles  and  cardboard  boxes  seemed  to  shrink  and 
crumple up too... His wife's long chin grew longer still; Nafanail drew himself 
up to attention and fastened all the buttons of his uniform. 
    "Your Excellency, I... delighted! The friend, one may say, of childhood and 
to have turned into such a great man! He-he!" 
    "Come, come!" the fat man frowned. "What's this tone for? You  and  I  were 
friends as boys, and there is no need of this official obsequiousness!" 
    "Merciful heavens, your Excellency! What are you saying..?"  sniggered  the 
thin man, wriggling more than ever. "Your Excellency's  gracious  attention  is 
like refreshing manna... This, your Excellency, is my son Nafanail...  my  wife 
Luise, a Lutheran in a certain sense." 
    The fat man was about to make some protest, but the face of  the  thin  man 
wore an expression of such reverence, sugariness,  and  mawkish  respectfulness 
that the privy councillor was sickened. He  turned  away  from  the  thin  man, 
giving him his hand at parting. 
    The thin man pressed three fingers, bowed his whole body and sniggered like 
a Chinaman: "He-he-he!" His wife  smiled.  Nafanail  scraped with his foot  and 
dropped his cap. All three were agreeably overwhelmed.

    1883

_______________________________________________________________________________

   Notes
    Fleur d'orange: a perfume. 

    Of the Lutheran persuasion: the  thin  man  has  married  well;  after  the 
Decembrist revolt of 1825 the Russian government depended heavily on its ethnic 
German minority, who were mostly Lutheran. 

    Nafanail: an unusual and humorous-sounding name in Russian. 

    Third class: third grade. 

    Herostratus: madman who in 356 BC burned the Temple of Artemis at  Ephesus, 
one of the Seven Wonders of the World. 

    Ephialtes: Greek who betrayed his country  at Thermopylae in 480 BC. 

    The Stanislav: the thin man has reached  the 8th grade  (college  assessor) 
in the Civil Service, and has received the order of St. Stanislav. 

    Privy councillor: 3rd grade,  typically  reserved  for  very  distinguished 
members of the Civil Service, such as ambassadors. 

    "You": the thin man has switched to the formal "you". 

    Scraped with his foot: a sign of subservience. 

_______________________________________________________________________________