Another train, another traveler, in this case a honeymooning husband who cannot seem to find his way back to his rail compartment and his new wife, having jumped off the train at the last station to grab a glass of brandy before getting back on board.
He is a very happy man; he loves his wife dearly. There’s only one problem. He’s an idiot. The reason he can’t find his compartment is that he has gotten on the wrong train.
Did Chekhov mean to suggest that happiness is a form of idiocy? Quite possibly yes!
READ THIS? READ THAT!
This story falls under a broad heading of “People Are Dolts.” Probably the best example of this is the story “Minds in Ferment,” in which an entire town panics over a nonexistent calamity.
A Chekhov Circus 