increased at Monte Carlo by Chekhov's losing nine hundred roubles at
roulette. But this loss was a blessing to him in so far as, for some
reason, it made him feel satisfied with himself. At the end of April, 1891,
after a stay in Paris, Chekhov returned to Moscow. Except at Vienna and for
the first days in Venice and at Nice, it had rained the whole time. On his
return he had to work extremely hard to pay for his two tours. His brother
Mihail was at this time inspector of taxes at Alexino, and Chekhov and his
household spent the summer not far from that town in the province of
Kaluga, so as to be near him. They took a house dating from the days of
Catherine. Chekhov's mother had to sit down and rest halfway when she
crossed the hall, the rooms were so large. He liked the place with its
endless avenues of lime-trees and poetical river, while fishing and
gathering mushrooms soothed him and put him in the mood for work. Here he
went on with his story "The Duel," which he had begun before going abroad.
From the windows there was the view of an old house which Chekhov described
in "An Artist's Story," and which he was very eager to buy. Indeed from
this time he began thinking of buying a country place of his own, not in
Little Russia, but in Central Russia. Petersburg seemed to him more and
more idle, cold and egoistic, and he had lost all faith in his Petersburg
acquaintances. On the other hand, Moscow no longer seemed to him as before
"like a cook," and he grew to love it. He grew fond of its climate, its
people and its bells. He always delighted in bells. Sometimes in earlier
days he had gathered together a party of friends and gone with them to
Kamenny Bridge to listen to the Easter bells. After eagerly listening to
them he would set off to wander from church to church, and with his legs
giving way under him from fatigue would, only when Easter night was over,
make his way homewards. Meanwhile his father, who was fond of staying till
the end of the service, would return from the parish church, and all the
brothers would sing "Christ is risen" in chorus, and then they all sat down
to break their fast. Chekhov never spent an Easter night in bed.