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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..388916d --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55502 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55502) diff --git a/old/55502-8.txt b/old/55502-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3a235b9..0000000 --- a/old/55502-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15789 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of In the World, by Maxim Gorky - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: In the World - -Author: Maxim Gorky - -Translator: Gertrude M. Foakes - -Release Date: September 7, 2017 [EBook #55502] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE WORLD *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version,also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... MOOC's, educational materials,...) -Images generously made available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - -IN THE WORLD - -BY - -MAXIM GORKY - -_Author of "My Childhood," etc._ - -TRANSLATED BY - -MRS. GERTRUDE M. FOAKES - -NEW YORK - -THE CENTURY CO. - -1917 - - - - -IN THE WORLD - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -I went out into the world as "shop-boy" at a fashionable boot-shop in -the main street of the town. My master was a small, round man. He had a -brown, rugged face, green teeth, and watery, mud-colored eyes. At first -I thought he was blind, and to see if my supposition was correct, I -made a grimace. - -"Don't pull your face about!" he said to me gently, but sternly. The -thought that those dull eyes could see me was unpleasant, and I did not -want to believe that this was the case. Was it not more than probable -that he had guessed I was making grimaces? - -"I told you not to pull your face about," he said again, hardly moving -his thick lips. - -"Don't scratch your hands," his dry whisper came to me, as it were, -stealthily. "You are serving in a first-class shop in the main street -of the town, and you must not forget it. The door-boy ought to stand -like a statue." - -I did not know what a statue was, and I could n't help scratching my -hands, which were covered with red pimples and sores, for they had been -simply devoured by vermin. - -"What did you do for a living when you were at home?" asked my master, -looking at my hands. - -I told him, and he shook his round head, which was closely covered with -gray hair, and said in a shocked voice: - -"Rag-picking! Why, that is worse than begging or stealing!" - -I informed him, not without pride: - -"But I stole as well." - -At this he laid his hands on his desk, looking just like a cat with her -paws up, and fixed his eyes on my face with a terrified expression as -he whispered: - -"Wha--a--t? How did you steal?" - -I explained how and what I had stolen. - -"Well, well, I look upon that as nothing but a prank. But if you rob me -of boots or money, I will have you put in prison, and kept there for -the rest of your life." - -He said this quite calmly, and I was frightened, and did not like him -any more. - -Besides the master, there were serving in the shop my cousin, Sascha -Jaakov, and the senior assistant, a competent, unctuous person with a -red face. Sascha now wore a brown frock-coat, a false shirt-front, a -cravat, and long trousers, and was too proud to take any notice of me. - -When grandfather had brought me to my master, he had asked Sascha to -help me and to teach me. Sascha had frowned with an air of importance -as he said warning: - -"He will have to do what I tell him, then." - -Laying his hand on my head, grandfather had forced me to bend my neck. - -"You are to obey him; he is older than you both in years and -experience." - -And Sascha said to me, with a nod: - -"Don't forget what grandfather has said." He lost no time in profiting -by his seniority. - -"Kashirin, don't look so goggle-eyed," his master would advise him. - -"I--I'm all right," Sascha would mutter, putting his head down. But the -master would not leave him alone. - -"Don't butt; the customers will think you are a goat." - -The assistant smiled respectfully, the master stretched his lips in -a hideous grin, and Sascha, his face flushing, retreated behind the -counter. I did not like the tone of these conversations. Many of the -words they used were unintelligible to me, and sometimes they seemed to -be speaking in a strange language. When a lady customer came in, the -master would take his hands out of his pockets, tug at his mustache, -and fix a sweet smile upon his face--a smile which wrinkled his cheeks, -but did not change the expression of his dull eyes. The assistant -would draw himself up, with his elbows pressed closely against his -sides, and his wrists respectfully dangling. Sascha would blink shyly, -trying to hide his protruding eyes, while I would stand at the door, -surreptitiously scratching my hands, and observing the ceremonial of -selling. - -Kneeling before the customer, the assistant would try on shoes with -wonderfully deft fingers. He touched the foot of the woman so carefully -that his hands trembled, as if he were afraid of breaking her leg. -But the leg was stout enough. It looked like a bottle with sloping -shoulders, turned neck downward. - -One of these ladies pulled her foot away one day, shrieking: - -"Oh, you are tickling me!" - -"That is--because--you are so sensitive," the assistant explained -hastily, with warmth. - -It was comical to watch him fawning upon the customers, and I had -to turn and look through the glass of the door to keep myself from -laughing. But something used to draw me back to watch the sale. The -proceedings of the assistant were very interesting, and while I looked -at him I was thinking that I should never be able to make my fingers -move so delicately, or so deftly put boots on other people's feet. - -It often happened that the master went away from the shop into a little -room behind it, and he would call Sascha to him, leaving the assistant -alone with the customer. Once, lingering over the foot of a red-haired -woman, he took it between his fingers and kissed it. - -"Oh," breathed the woman, "what a bold man you are!" - -He puffed out his cheeks and emitted a long-drawn-out sound: - -"O--o--h!" - -At this I laughed so much that, to keep my feet, I had to hang on to -the handle of the door. It flew open, and my head knocked against one -of the panes of glass and broke it. The assistant stamped his foot at -me, my master hit me on the head with his heavy gold ring, and Sascha -tried to pull my ears. In the evening, when we were on our way home, he -said to me, sternly: - -"You will lose your place for doing things like that. I 'd like to -know where the joke comes in." And then he explained: "If ladies take -a fancy to the assistant, it is good for trade. A lady may not be in -need of boots, but she comes in and buys what she does not want just -to have a look at the assistant, who pleases her. But you--you can't -understand! One puts oneself out for you, and--" - -This incensed me. No one put himself out for me, and he least of all. - -In the morning the cook, a sickly, disagreeable woman, used to call -me before him. I had to clean the boots and brush the clothes of the -master, the assistant, and Sascha, get the samovar ready, bring in wood -for all the stoves, and wash up. When I got to the shop I had to sweep -the floor, dust, get the tea ready, carry goods to the customers, and -go home to fetch the dinner, my duty at the door being taken in the -meantime by Sascha, who, finding it lowering to his dignity, rated me. - -"Lazy young wretch! I have to do all your work for you." - -This was a wearisome, dull life for me. I was accustomed to live -independently in the sandy streets of Kunavin, on the banks of the -turbid Oka, in the fields or woods, from morning to night. I was parted -from grandmother and from my comrades. I had no one to speak to, and -life was showing me her seamy, false side. There were occasions on -which a customer went away without making a purchase, when all three -would feel themselves affronted. The master would put his sweet smile -away in his pocket as he said: - -"Kashirin, put these things away." Then he would grumble: - -"There's a pig of a woman The fool found it dull sitting at home, so -she must come and turn our shop upside down! If you were my wife, I'd -give you something!" - -His wife, a dried-up woman with black eyes and a large nose, simply -made a door-mat of him. She used to scold him as if he were a servant. - -Often, after he had shown out a frequent customer with polite bows -and pleasant words, they would all begin to talk about her in a vile -and shameless manner, arousing in me a desire to run into the street -after her and tell her what they said. I knew, of course, that people -generally speak evil of one another behind one another's backs, but -these spoke of every one in a particularly revolting manner, as if they -were in the front rank of good people and had been appointed to judge -the rest of the world. Envious of many of them, they were never known -to praise any one, and knew something bad about everybody. - -One day there came to the shop a young woman with bright, rosy cheeks -and sparkling eyes, attired in a velvet cloak with a collar of black -fur. Her face rose out of the fur like a wonderful flower. When she -had thrown the cloak off her shoulders and handed it to Sascha, she -looked still more beautiful. Her fine figure was fitted tightly with a -blue-gray silk robe; diamonds sparkled in her ears. She reminded me of -"Vassilissa the Beautiful," and I could have believed that she was in -truth the governor's wife. They received her with particular respect, -bending before her as if she were a bright light, and almost choking -themselves in their hurry to get out polite words. All three rushed -about the shop like wild things: their reflections bobbed up and down -in the glass of the cupboard. But when she left, after having bought -some expensive boots in a great hurry, the master, smacking his lips, -whistled and said: - -"Hussy!" - -"An actress--that sums her up," said the assistant, contemptuously. -They began to talk of the lovers of the lady and the luxury in which -she lived. - -After dinner the master went to sleep in the room behind the shop, and -I, opening his gold watch, poured vinegar into the works. It was a -moment of supreme joy to me when he awoke and came into the shop, with -his watch in his hand, muttering wildly: - -"What can have happened? My watch is all wet. I never remember such a -thing happening before. It is all wet; it will be ruined." - -In addition to the burden of my duties in the shop and the housework, I -was weighed down by depression. I often thought it would be a good idea -to behave so badly that I should get my dismissal. Snow-covered people -passed the door of the shop without making a sound. They looked as if -on their way to somebody's funeral. Having meant to accompany the body -to the grave, they had been delayed, and, being late for the funeral -procession, were hurrying to the grave-side. The horses quivered with -the effort of making their way through the snow-drifts. From the belfry -of the church behind the shop the bells rang out with a melancholy -sound every day. It was Lent, and every stroke of the bell fell upon -my brain as if it had been a pillow, not hurting, but stupefying and -deafening, me. One day when I was in the yard unpacking a case of new -goods just received, at the door of the shop, the watchman of the -church, a crooked old man, as soft as if he were made of rags and as -ragged as if he had been torn to pieces by dogs, approached me. - -"Are you going to be kind and steal some goloshes for me?" he asked. - -I was silent. He sat down on an empty case, yawned, made the sign of -the cross over his mouth, and repeated: - -"Will you steal them for me?" - -"It is wrong to steal," I informed him. - -"But people steal all the same. Old age must have its compensations." - -He was pleasantly different from the people among whom I lived. I felt -that he had a firm belief in my readiness to steal, and I agreed to -hand him the goloshes through the window. - -"That's right," he said calmly, without enthusiasm. "You are not -deceiving me? No, I see that you are not." - -He was silent for a moment, trampling the dirty, wet snow with the -soles of his boots. Then he lit a long pipe, and suddenly startled me. - -"But suppose it is I who deceive you? Suppose I take the goloshes to -your master, and tell him that you have sold them to me for half a -ruble? What then? Their price is two rubles, and you have sold them for -half a ruble. As a present, eh?" - -I gazed at him dumbly, as if he had already done what he said he would -do; but he went on talking gently through his nose, looking at his -boots, and blowing out blue smoke. - -"Suppose, for example, that your master has said to me, 'Go and try -that youngster, and see if he is a thief? What then?" - -"I shall not give you the goloshes," I said, angry and frightened. - -"You must give them now that you have promised." - -He took me by the arm and drew me to him, and, tapping my forehead with -his cold fingers, drawled: - -"What are you thinking of, with your 'take this' and 'take that'?" - -"You asked me for them yourself." - -"I might ask you to do lots of things. I might ask you to come and rob -the church. Would you do it? Do you think you can trust everybody? Ah, -you young fool!" He pushed me away from him and stood up. - -"I don't want stolen goloshes. I am not a gentleman, and I don't wear -goloshes. I was only making fun of you. For your simplicity, when -Easter comes, I will let you come up into the belfry and ring the bells -and look at the town." - -"I know the town." - -"It looks better from the belfry." - -Dragging his broken boots in the snow, he went slowly round the corner -of the church, and I looked after him, wondering dejectedly and -fearfully whether the old man had really been making fun of me, or had -been sent by my master to try me. I did not want to go back to the shop. - -Sascha came hurriedly into the yard and shouted: "What the devil has -become of you?" - -I shook my pincers at him in a sudden access of rage. I knew that both -he and the assistant robbed the master. They would hide a pair of boots -or slippers in the stovepipe, and when they left the shop, would slip -them into the sleeves of their overcoats. I did not like this, and felt -alarmed about it, for I remembered the threats of the master. - -"Are you stealing?" I had asked Sascha. - -"Not I, but the assistant," he would explain crossly. "I am only -helping him. He says, 'Do as I tell you,' and I have to obey. If I did -not, he would do me some mischief. As for master, he was an assistant -himself once, and he understands. But you hold your tongue." - -As he spoke, he looked in the glass and set his tie straight with -just such a movement of his naturally spreading fingers as the senior -assistant employed. He was unwearying in his demonstrations of his -seniority and power over me, scolding me in a bass voice, and ordering -me about with threatening gestures. I was taller than he, but bony and -clumsy, while he was compact, flexible, and fleshy. In his frock-coat -and long trousers he seemed an important and substantial figure in my -eyes, and yet there was something ludicrous and unpleasing about him. -He hated the cook, a curious woman, of whom it was impossible to decide -whether she was good or bad. - -"What I love most in the world is a fight," she said, opening wide -her burning black eyes. "I don't care what sort of fight it is, -cock-fights, dog-fights, or fights between men. It is all the same to -me." - -And if she saw cocks or pigeons fighting in the yard, she would throw -aside her work and watch the fight to the end, standing dumb and -motionless at the window. In the evenings she would say to me and -Sascha: - -"Why do you sit there doing nothing, children? You had far better be -fighting." - -This used to make Sascha angry. - -"I am not a child, you fool; I am junior assistant." - -"That does not concern me. In my eyes, while you remain unmarried, you -are a child." - -"Fool! Blockhead!" - -"The devil is clever, but God does not love him." - -Her talk was a special source of irritation to Sascha, and he used to -tease her; but she would look at him contemptuously, askance, and say: - -"Ugh, you beetle! One of God's mistakes!" - -Sometimes he would tell me to rub blacking or soot on her face when she -was asleep, stick pins into her pillow, or play other practical jokes -on her; but I was afraid of her. Besides, she slept very lightly and -used to wake up frequently. Lighting the lamp, she would sit on the -side of her bed, gazing fixedly at something in the corner. Sometimes -she came over to me, where I slept behind the stove, and woke me up, -saying hoarsely: - -"I can't sleep, Leksyeka. I am not very well. Talk to me a little." - -Half asleep, I used to tell her some story, and she would sit without -speaking, swaying from side to side. I had an idea that her hot body -smelt of wax and incense, and that she would soon die. Every moment I -expected to see her fall face downward on the floor and die. In terror -I would begin to speak loudly, but she would check me. - -"'S-sh! You will wake the whole place up, and they will think that you -are my lover." - -She always sat near me in the same attitude, doubled up, with her -wrists between her knees, squeezing them against the sharp bones of her -legs. She had no chest, and even through the thick linen night-dress -her ribs were visible, just like the ribs of a broken cask. After -sitting a long time in silence, she would suddenly whisper: - -"What if I do die, it is a calamity which happens to all." Or she would -ask some invisible person, "Well, I have lived my life, have n't I?" - -"Sleep!" she would say, cutting me short in the middle of a word, and, -straightening herself, would creep noiselessly across the dark kitchen. - -"Witch!" Sascha used to call her behind her back. - -I put the question to him: - -"Why don't you call her that to her face?" - -"Do you think that I am afraid to?" But a second later he said, with a -frown: "No, I can't say it to her face. She may really be a witch." - -Treating every one with the same scornful lack of consideration, she -showed no indulgence to me, but would drag me out of bed at six -o'clock every morning, crying: - -"Are you going to sleep forever? Bring the wood in! Get the samovar -ready! Clean the doorplate!" - -Sascha would wake up and complain: - -"What are you bawling like that for? I will tell the master. You don't -give any one a chance to, sleep." - -Moving quickly about the kitchen with her lean, withered body, she -would flash her blazing, sleepless eyes upon him. - -"Oh, it's you, God's mistake? If you were my son, I would give you -something!" - -Sascha would abuse her, calling her "accursed one," and when we were -going to the shop he said to me: "We shall have to do something to get -her sent away. We 'll put salt in everything when she's not looking. -If everything is cooked with too much salt, they will get rid of her. -Or paraffin would do. What are you gaping about?" - -"Why don't you do it yourself?" - -He snorted angrily: - -"Coward!" - -The cook died under our very eyes. She bent down to pick up the -samovar, and suddenly sank to the floor without uttering a word, just -as if some one had given her a blow on the chest. She moved over on her -side, stretched out her arms, and blood trickled from her mouth. - -We both understood in a flash that she was dead, but, stupefied by -terror, we gazed at her a long time without strength to say a word. At -last Sascha rushed headlong out of the kitchen, and I, not knowing what -to do, pressed close to the window in the light. The master came in, -fussily squatted down beside her, and touched her face with his finger. - -"She is dead; that's certain," he said. "What can have caused it?" He -went into the corner where hung a small image of Nikolai Chudovortz -and crossed himself; and when he had prayed he went to the door and -commanded: - -"Kashirin, run quickly and fetch the police!" - -The police came, stamped about, received money for drinks, and went. -They returned later, accompanied by a man with a cart, lifted the cook -by the legs and the head, and carried her into the street. The mistress -stood in the doorway and watched them. Then she said to me: - -"Wash the floor!" - -And the master said: - -"It is a good thing that she died in the evening." - -I could not understand why it was a good thing. When we went to bed -Sascha said to me with unusual gentleness: - -"Don't put out the lamp!" - -"Are you afraid?" - -He covered his head with the blanket, and lay silent a long time. The -night was very quiet, as if it were listening for something, waiting -for something. It seemed to me that the next minute a bell rang out, -and suddenly the whole town was running and shouting in a great -terrified uproar. - -Sascha put his nose out of the blanket and suggested softly: - -"Let's go and lie on the stove together." - -"It is hot there." - -After a silence he said: - -"How suddenly she went off, did n't she? I am sure she was a witch. I -can't get to sleep." - -"Nor I, either." - -He began to tell tales about dead people--how they came out of their -graves and wandered till midnight about the town, seeking the place -where they had lived and looking for their relations. - -"Dead people can only remember the town," he said softly; "but they -forget the streets and houses at once." - -It became quieter and quieter and seemed to be getting darker. Sascha -raised his head and asked: - -"Would you like to see what I have got in my trunk?" - -I had long wanted to know what he hid in his trunk. He kept it locked -with a padlock, and always opened it with peculiar caution. If I tried -to peep he would ask harshly: - -"What do you want, eh?" - -When I agreed, he sat up in bed without putting his feet to the floor, -and ordered me in a tone of authority to bring the trunk to the -bed, and place it at his feet. The key hung round his neck with his -baptismal cross. Glancing round at the dark corners of the kitchen, he -frowned importantly, unfastened the lock, blew on the lid of the trunk -as if it had been hot, and at length, raising it, took out several -linen garments. - -The trunk was half-full of chemist's boxes, packets of variously -colored tea-paper, and tins which had contained blacking or sardines. - -"What is it?" - -"You shall see." - -He put a foot on each side of the trunk and bent over it, singing -softly: - -"Czaru nebesnui----" - -I expected to see toys. I had never possessed any myself, and pretended -to despise them, but not without a feeling of envy for those who did -possess them. I was very pleased to think that Sascha, such a serious -character, had toys, although he hid them shamefacedly; but I quite -understood his shame. - -Opening the first box, he drew from it the frame of a pair of -spectacles, put them on his nose, and, looking at me sternly, said: - -"It does not matter about there not being any glasses. This is a -special kind of spectacle." - -"Let me look through them." - -"They would not suit your eyes. They are for dark eyes, and yours are -light," he explained, and began to imitate the mistress scolding; but -suddenly he stopped, and looked about the kitchen with an expression of -fear. - -In a blacking tin lay many different kinds of buttons, and he explained -to me with pride: - -"I picked up all these in the street. All by myself! I already have -thirty-seven." - -In the third box was a large brass pin, also found in the street; -hobnails, worn-out, broken, and whole; buckles off shoes and slippers; -brass door-handles, broken bone cane-heads; girls' fancy combs, 'The -Dream Book and Oracle;' and many other things of similar value. - -When I used to collect rags I could have picked up ten times as many -such useless trifles in one month. Sascha's things aroused in me a -feeling of disillusion, of agitation, and painful pity for him. But he -gazed at every single article with great attention, lovingly stroked -them with his fingers, and stuck out his thick lips importantly. His -protruding eyes rested on them affectionately and solicitously; but the -spectacles made his childish face look comical. - -"Why have you kept these things?" - -He flashed a glance at me through the frame of the spectacles, and -asked: - -"Would you like me to give you something?" - -"No; I don't want anything." - -He was obviously offended at the refusal and the poor impression his -riches had made. He was silent a moment; then he suggested quietly: - -"Get a towel and wipe them all; they are covered with dust." - -When the things were all dusted and replaced, he turned over in the -bed, with his face to the wall. The rain was pouring down. It dripped -from the roof, and the wind beat against the window. Without turning -toward me, Sascha said: - -"You wait! When it is dry in the garden I will show you a -thing--something to make you gasp." - -I did not answer, as I was just dropping off to sleep. - -After a few seconds he started up, and began to scrape the wall with -his hands. With quivering earnestness, he said: - -"I am afraid--Lord, I am afraid! Lord, have mercy upon me! What is it?" - -I was numbed by fear at this. I seemed to see the cook standing at the -window which looked on the yard, with her back to me, her head bent, -and her forehead pressed against the glass, just as she used to stand -when she was alive, looking at a cock-fight. Sascha sobbed, and scraped -on the wall. I made a great effort and crossed the kitchen, as if I -were walking on hot coals, without daring to look around, and lay down -beside him. At length, overcome by weariness, we both fell asleep. - -A few days after this there was a holiday. We were in the shop till -midday, had dinner at home, and when the master had gone to sleep after -dinner, Sascha said to me secretly: - -"Come along!" - -I guessed that I was about to see the thing which was to make me gasp. -We went into the garden. On a narrow strip of ground between two houses -stood ten old lime-trees, their stout trunks covered with green lichen, -their black, naked branches sticking up lifelessly, and not one rook's -nest between them. They looked like monuments in a graveyard. There -was nothing besides these trees in the garden; neither bushes nor -grass. The earth on the pathway was trampled and black, and as hard as -iron, and where the bare ground was visible under last year's leaves it -was also flattened, and as smooth as stagnant water. - -Sascha went to a corner of the fence which hid us from the street, -stood under a lime-tree, and, rolling his eyes, glanced at the dirty -windows of the neighboring house. Squatting on his haunches, he turned -over a heap of leaves with his hands, disclosing a thick root, close to -which were placed two bricks deeply embedded in the ground. He lifted -these up, and beneath them appeared a piece of roof iron, and under -this a square board. At length a large hole opened before my eyes, -running under the root of the tree. - -Sascha lit a match and applied it to a small piece of wax candle, which -he held over the hole as he said to me: - -"Look in, only don't be frightened." - -He seemed to be frightened himself. The piece of candle in his hand -shook, and he had turned pale. His lips drooped unpleasantly, his eyes -were moist, and he stealthily put his free hand behind his back. He -infected me with his terror, and I glanced very cautiously into the -depths under the root, which he had made into a vault, in the back of -which he had lit three little tapers that filled the cave with a blue -light. It was fairly broad, though in depth no more than the inside -of a pail. But it was broad, and the sides were closely covered with -pieces of broken glass and broken earthenware. In the center, on an -elevation, covered with a piece of red cloth, stood a little coffin -ornamented with silver paper, half covered with a fragment of material -which looked like a brocaded pall. From beneath this was thrust out a -little gray bird's claw and the sharp-billed head of a sparrow. Behind -the coffin rose a reading-stand, upon which lay a brass baptismal -cross, and around which burned three wax tapers, fixed in candlesticks -made out of gold and silver paper which had been wrapped round sweets. - -The thin flames bowed toward the entrance to the cave. The interior -was faintly bright with many colored gleams and patches of light. The -odor of wax, the warm smell of decay and soil, beat against my face, -made my eyes smart, and conjured up a broken rainbow, which made a -great display of color. All this aroused in me such an overwhelming -astonishment that it dispelled my terror. - -"Is it good?" - -"What is it for?" - -"It is a chapel," he explained. "Is it like one?" - -"I don't know." - -"And the sparrow is a dead person. Perhaps there will be relics of him, -because he suffered undeservedly." - -"Did you find him dead?" - -"No. He flew into the shed and I put my cap over him and smothered him." - -"But why?" - -"Because I chose to." - -He looked into my eyes and asked again: - -"Is it good?" - -"No." - -Then he bent over the hole, quickly covered it with the board, pressed -the bricks into the earth with the iron, stood up, and, brushing the -dirt from his knees, asked sternly: - -"Why don't you like it?" - -"I am sorry for the sparrow." - -He stared at me with eyes which were perfectly stationary, like those -of a blind person, and, striking my chest, cried: - -"Fool, it is because you are envious that you say that you do not like -it! I suppose you think that the one in your garden in Kanatnoe Street -was better done." - -I remembered my summer-house, and said with conviction: - -"Certainly it was better." - -Sascha pulled off his coat and threw it on the ground, and, turning up -his sleeves, spat on his hands and said: - -"If that is so, we will fight about it." - -I did not want to fight. My courage was undermined by depression; I -felt uneasy as I looked at the wrathful face of my cousin. He made a -rush at me, struck my chest with his head, and knocked me over. Then he -sat astride of me and cried: - -"Is it to be life or death?" - -But I was stronger than he and very angry. In a few minutes he was -lying face downward with his hands behind his head and a rattling in -his throat. Alarmed, I tried to help him up, but he thrust me away with -his hands and feet. I grew still more alarmed. I went away to one side, -not knowing what else to do, and he raised his head and said: - -"Do you know what you have brought on yourself? I will work things -so that when the master and mistress are not looking I shall have to -complain of you, and then they will dismiss you." - -He went on scolding and threatening me, and his words infuriated me. -I rushed to the cave, took away the stones, and threw the coffin -containing the sparrow over the fence into the street. I dug Out all -the inside of the cave and trampled it under my feet. - -Sascha took my violence strangely. Sitting on the ground, with his -mouth partly covered and his eyebrows drawn together, he watched me, -saying nothing. When I had finished, he stood up without any hurry, -shook out his clothes, threw on his coat, and then said calmly and -ominously: - -"Now you will see what will happen; just wait a little! I arranged all -this for you purposely; it is witchcraft. Aha!" - -I sank down as if his words had physically hurt me, and I felt quite -cold inside. But he went away without glancing back at me, which -accentuated his calmness still more. I made up my mind to run away -from the town the next day, to run away from my master, from Sascha -with his witchcraft, from the whole of that worthless, foolish life. - -The next morning the new cook cried out when she called me: - -"Good gracious! what have you been doing to your face?" - -"The witchcraft is beginning to take effect," I thought, with a sinking -heart. - -But the cook laughed so heartily that I also smiled involuntarily, and -peeped into her glass. My face was thickly smeared with soot. - -"Sascha did this?" I asked. - -"Or I," laughed the cook. - -When I began to clean the boots, the first boot into which I put my -hand had a pin in the lining, which ran into my finger. - -"This is his witchcraft!" - -There were pins or needles in all the boots, put in so skilfully that -they always pricked my palm. Then I took a bowl of cold water, and with -great pleasure poured it over the head of the wizard, who was either -not awake or was pretending to sleep. - -But all the same I was miserable. I was always thinking of the coffin -containing the sparrow, with its gray crooked claws and its waxen bill -pathetically sticking upward, and all around the colored gleams which -seemed to be trying unsuccessfully to form themselves into a rainbow. -In my imagination the coffin was enlarged, the claws of the bird grew, -stretched upward quivering, were alive. - -I made up my mind to run away that evening, but in warming up some food -on an oil-stove before dinner I absent-mindedly let it catch fire. -When I was trying to put the flames out, I upset the contents of the -vessel over my hand, and had to be taken to the hospital. I remember -well that oppressive nightmare of the hospital. In what seemed to -be a yellow-gray wilderness there were huddled together, grumbling -and groaning, gray and white figures in shrouds, while a tall man -on crutches, with eyebrows like whiskers, pulled his black beard and -roared: - -"I will report it to his Eminence!" - -The pallet beds reminded me of the coffin, and the patients, lying with -their noses upward, were like dead sparrows. The yellow walls rocked, -the ceiling curved outward like a sail, the floor rose and fell beside -my cot. Everything about the place was hopeless and miserable, and the -twigs of trees tapped against the window like rods in some one's hand. - -At the door there danced a red-haired, thin dead person, drawing his -shroud round him with his thin hands and squeaking: - -"I don't want mad people." - -The man on crutches shouted in his ear: - -"I shall report it to his Eminence!" - -Grandfather, grandmother, and every one had told me that they always -starved people in hospitals, so I looked upon my life as finished. A -woman with glasses, also in a shroud, came to me, and wrote something -on a slate hanging at the head of the bed. The chalk broke and fell all -over me. - -"What is your name?" - -"I have no name." - -"But you must have one." - -"No." - -"Now, don't be silly, or you will be whipped." - -I could well believe that they would whip me; that was why I would -not answer her. She made a hissing sound like a cat, and went out -noiselessly, also like a cat. - -Two lamps were lit. The yellow globes hung down from the ceiling like -two eyes, hanging and winking, dazzled, and trying to get closer -together. - -Some one in the corner said: - -"How can I play without a hand?" - -"Ah, of course; they have cut off your hand." - -I came to the conclusion at once that they cut off a man's hand because -he played at cards! What would they do with me before they starved me? - -My hands burned and smarted just as if some one were pulling the bones -out of them. I cried softly from fright and pain, and shut my eyes so -that the tears should not be seen; but they forced their way through my -eyelids, and, trickling over my temples, fell into my ears. - -The night came. All the inmates threw themselves upon their pallet -beds, and hid themselves under gray blankets. Every minute it became -quieter. Only some one could be heard muttering in a comer, "It is no -use; both he and she are rotters." - -I would have written a letter to grandmother, telling her to come and -steal me from the hospital while I was still alive, but I could not -write; my hands could not be used at all. I would try to find a way of -getting out of the place. - -The silence of the night became more intense every moment, as if it -were going to last forever. Softly putting my feet to the floor, I went -to the double door, half of which was open. In the corridor, under the -lamp, on a wooden bench with a back to it, appeared a gray, bristling -head surrounded by smoke, looking at me with dark, hollow eyes. I had -no time to hide myself. - -"Who is that wandering about? Come here!" - -The voice was not formidable; it was soft. I went to him. I saw a round -face with short hair sticking out round it. On the head the hair was -long and stuck out in all directions like a silver halo, and at the -belt of this person hung a bunch of keys. If his beard and hair had -been longer, he would have looked like the Apostle Peter. - -"You are the one with the burned hands? Why are you wandering about at -night? By whose authority?" - -He blew a lot of smoke at my chest and face, and, putting his warm -hands on my neck, drew me to him. - -"Are you frightened?" - -"Yes." - -"Every one is frightened when they come here first, but that is -nothing. And you need not be afraid of me, of all people. I never hurt -any one. Would you like to smoke? No, don't! It is too soon; wait a -year or two. And where are your parents? You have none? Ah, well, you -don't need them; you will be able to get along without them. Only you -must not be afraid, do you see?" - -It was a long time since I had come across any one who spoke to me -simply and kindly in language that I could understand, and it was -inexpressibly pleasant to me to listen to him. When he took me back to -my cot I asked him: - -"Come and sit beside me." - -"All right," he agreed. - -"Who are you?" - -"I? I am a soldier, a real soldier, a Cossack. And I have been in the -wars--well, of course I have! Soldiers live for war. I have fought with -the Hungarians, with the Circassians, and the Poles, as many as you -like. War, my boy, is a great profession." - -I closed my eyes for a minute, and when I opened them, there, in the -place of the soldier, sat grandmother, in a dark frock, and he was -standing by her. She was saying: - -"Dear me! So they are all dead?" - -The sun was playing in the room, now gilding every object, then hiding, -and then looking radiantly upon us all again, just like a child -frolicking. - -Babushka bent over me and asked: - -"What is it, my darling? They have been mutilating you? I told that old -red devil--" - -"I will make all the necessary arrangements," said the soldier, going -away, and grandmother, wiping the tears from her face, said: - -"Our soldier, it seems, comes from Balakhna." - -I still thought that I must be dreaming, and kept silence. The doctor -came, bandaged my burns, and, behold! I was sitting with grandmother in -a cab, and driving through the streets of the town. She told me: - -"That grandfather of ours he is going quite out of his mind, and he is -so greedy that it is sickening to look at him. Not long ago he took -a hundred rubles out of the office-book of Xlist the furrier, a new -friend of his. What a set-out there was! E-h-h-h!" - -The sun shone brightly, and clouds floated in the sky like white birds. -We went by the bridge across the Volga. The ice groaned under us, -water was visible under the planks of the bridge, and the golden cross -gleamed over the red dome of the cathedral in the market-place. - -We met a woman with a broad face. She was carrying an armful of -willow-branches. The spring was coming; soon it would be Easter. - -"I love you very much, Grandmother!" - -This did not seem to surprise her. She answered in a calm voice: - -"That is because we are of the same family. But--and I do not say -it boastfully--there are others who love me, too, thanks to thee, O -Blessed Lady!" She added, smiling: - -"She will soon be rejoicing; her Son will rise again! Ah, Variusha, my -daughter!" - -Then she was silent. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Grandfather met me in the yard; he was on his knees, chopping a wedge -with a hatchet. He raised the ax as if he were going to throw it at my -head, and then took off his cap, saying mockingly: "How do you do, your -Holiness? Your Highness? Have you finished your term of serviced Well, -now you can live as you like, yes. U-ugh! _you_--" - -"We know all about it, we know all about it!" said grandmother, hastily -waving him away, and when she went into her room to get the samovar -ready she told me: - -"Grandfather is fairly ruined now. What money there was he lent at -interest to his godson Nikolai, but he never got a receipt for it. -I don't quite know yet how they stand, but he is ruined; the money -is lost. And all this because we have not helped the poor or had -compassion on the unfortunate. God has said to Himself, 'Why should I -do good to the Kashirins?' and so He has taken everything from us." -Looking round, she went on: - -"I have been trying to soften the heart of the Lord toward us a little, -so that He may not press too hardly on the old man, and I have begun -to give a little in charity, secretly and at night, from what I have -earned. You can come with me to-day if you like. I have some money--" - -Grandfather came in blinking and asked: - -"Are you going to have a snack?" - -"It is not yours," said grandmother. "However, you can sit down with us -if you like; there's enough for you." - -He sat down at the table, murmuring: - -"Pour out--" - -Everything in the room was in its old place. Only my mother's corner -was sadly empty, and on the wall over grandfather's bed hung a sheet of -paper on which was inscribed in large, printed letters: - -"Jesus save, Life of the world! May Thy holy name be with me all the -days and hours of my life!" - -"Who wrote that?" - -Grandfather did not reply, and grandmother, waiting a little, said with -a smile: - -"The price of that paper is--a hundred rubles!" - -"That is not your business!" cried grandfather. "I give away everything -to others." - -"It is all right to give now, but time was when you did not give," said -grandmother, calmly. - -"Hold your tongue!" he shrieked. - -This was all as it should be, just like old times. - -In the corner, on a box, in a wicker basket, Kolia woke up and looked -out, his blue, washed-out eyes hardly visible under their lids. He was -grayer, more faded and fragile-looking, than ever. He did not recognize -me, and, turning away in silence, closed his eyes. Sad news awaited me -in the street. Viakhir was dead. He had breathed his last in Passion -Week. Khabi had gone away to live in town. Yaz's feet had been taken -off, and he would walk no more. - -As he was giving me this information, black-eyed Kostrom said angrily: - -"Boys soon die!" - -"Well, but only Viakhir is dead." - -"It is the same thing. Whoever leaves the streets is as good as dead. -No sooner do we make friends, get used to our comrades, than they -either are sent into the town to work or they die. There are new -people living in your yard at Chesnokov's; Evsyenki is their name. The -boy, Niushka, is nothing out of the ordinary. He has two sisters, one -still small, and the other lame. She goes about on crutches; she is -beautiful!" - -After thinking a moment he added: - -"Tchurka and I are both in love with her, and quarrel." - -"With her?" - -"Why with her? Between ourselves. With her--very seldom." - -Of course I knew that big lads and even men fell in love. I was -familiar also with coarse ideas on this subject. I felt uncomfortable, -sorry for Kostrom, and reluctant to look at his angular figure and -angry, black eyes. - -I saw the lame girl on the evening of the same day. Coming down the -steps into the yard, she let her crutch fall, and stood helplessly -on the step, holding on to the balustrade with her transparent, thin, -fragile hands. I tried to pick up the crutch, but my bandaged hands -were not much use, and I had a lot of trouble and vexation in doing it. -Meanwhile she, standing above me, and laughing gently, watched me. - -"What have you done to your hands?" she said. - -"Scalded them." - -"And I--am a cripple. Do you belong to this yard? Were you long in the -hospital? I was there a lo-o-ong time." She added, with a sigh, "A very -long time." - -She had a white dress and light blue overshoes, old, but clean; her -smoothly brushed hair fell across her breast in a thick, short plait. -Her eyes were large and serious; in their quiet depths burned a blue -light which lit up the pale, sharp-nosed face. She smiled pleasantly, -but I did not care about her. Her sickly figure seemed to say, "Please -don't touch me!" How could my friends be in love with her? - -"I have been lame a long time," she told me, willingly and almost -boastfully. "A neighbor bewitched me; she had a quarrel with mother, -and then bewitched me out of spite. Were you frightened in the -hospital?" - -"Yes." - -I felt awkward with her, and went indoors. - -About midnight grandmother tenderly awoke me. - -"Are you coming? If you do something for other people, your hand will -soon be well." - -She took my arm and led me in the dark, as if I had been blind. It was -a black, damp night; the wind blew continuously, making the river flow -more swiftly and blowing the cold sand against my legs. Grandmother -cautiously approached the darkened windows of the poor little houses, -crossed herself three times, laid a five-copeck piece and three -cracknel biscuits on the window-sills, and crossed herself again. -Glancing up into the starless sky, she whispered: - -"Holy Queen of Heaven, help these people! We are all sinners in thy -sight, Mother dear." - -Now, the farther we went from home, the denser and more intense -the darkness and silence became. The night sky was pitch black, -unfathomable, as if the moon and stars had disappeared forever. A dog -sprang out from somewhere and growled at us. His eyes gleamed in the -darkness, and I cravenly pressed close to grandmother. - -"It is all right," she said; "it is only a dog. It is too late for the -devil; the cocks have already begun to crow." - -Enticing the dog to her, she stroked it and admonished it: - -"Look here, doggie, you must not frighten my grandson." - -The dog rubbed itself against my legs, and the three of us went on. -Twelve times did grandmother place "secret alms" on a window-sill. It -began to grow light: gray houses appeared out of the darkness; the -belfry of Napolni Church rose up white like a piece of sugar; the brick -wall of the cemetery seemed to become transparent. - -"The old woman is tired," said grandmother; "it is time we went home. -When the women wake up they will find that Our Lady has provided a -little for their children. When there is never enough, a very little -comes in useful. O Olesha, our people live so poorly and no one -troubles about them! - - "The rich man about God never thinks; - Of the terrible judgment he does not dream; - The poor man is to him neither friend nor brother; - All he cares about is getting gold together. - But that gold will be coal in hell! - -"That's how it is. But we ought to live for one another, while God is -for us all. I am glad to have you with me again." - -And I, too, was calmly happy, feeling in a confused way that I had -taken part in something which I should never forget. Close to me -shivered the brown dog, with its bare muzzle and kind eyes which seemed -to be begging forgiveness. - -"Will it live with us?" - -"What? It can, if it likes. Here, I will give it a cracknel biscuit. I -have two left. Let us sit down on this bench. I am so tired." - -We sat down on a bench by a gate, and the dog lay at our feet, eating -the dry cracknel, while grandmother informed me: - -"There's a Jewess living here; she has about ten servants, more or -less. I asked her, 'Do you live by the law of Moses?' But she answered, -'I live as if God were with me and mine; how else should I live?'" - -I leaned against the warm body of grandmother and fell asleep. - -* - -Once more my life flowed on swiftly and full of interest, with a broad -stream of impressions bringing something new to my soul every day, -stirring it to enthusiasm, disturbing it, or causing me pain, but -at any rate forcing me to think. Before long I also was using every -means in my power to meet the lame girl, and I would sit with her on -the bench by the gate, either talking or in silence. It was pleasant -to be silent in her company. She was very neat, and had a voice like -a singing bird. She used to tell me prettily of the way the Cossacks -lived on the Don, where she had lived with her uncle, who was employed -in some oil-works. Then her father, a locksmith, had gone to live at -Nijni. "And I have another uncle who serves the czar himself." - -In the evenings of Sundays and festivals all the inhabitants of the -street used to stand "at the gate." The boys and girls went to the -cemetery, the men to the taverns, and the women and children remained -in the street. The women sat at the gate on the sand or on a small -bench. - -The children used to play at a sort of tennis, at skittles, and at -_sharmazl._ The mothers watched the games, encouraging the skilful -ones and laughing at the bad players. It was deafeningly noisy and gay. -The presence and attention of the "grown-ups" stimulated us; the merest -trifles brought into our games extra animation and passionate rivalry. -But it seemed that we three, Kostrom, Tchurka, and I, were not so taken -up with the game that we had not time, one or the other of us, to run -and show off before the lame girl. - -"Ludmilla, did you see that I knocked down five of the ninepins in that -game of skittles?" - -She would smile sweetly, tossing her head. - -In old times our little company had always tried to be on the same side -in games, but now I saw that Kostrom and Tchurka used to take opposite -sides, trying to rival each other in all kinds of trials of skill and -strength, often aggravating each other to tears and fights. One day -they fought so fiercely that the adults had to interfere, and they had -to pour water over the combatants, as if they were dogs. Ludmilla, -sitting on a bench, stamped her sound foot on the ground, and when the -fighters rolled toward her, pushed them away with her crutch, crying in -a voice of fear: - -"Leave off!" - -Her face was white, almost livid; her eyes blazed and rolled like a -person possessed with a devil. - -Another time Kostrom, shamefully beaten by Tchurka in a game of -skittles, hid himself behind a chest of oats in the grocer's shop, -and crouched there, weeping silently. It was terrible to see him. -His teeth were tightly clenched, his cheek-bones stood out, his bony -face looked as if it had been turned to stone, and from his black, -surly eyes flowed large, round tears. When I tried to console him he -whispered, choking back his tears: - -"You wait! I'll throw a brick at his head. You'll see." - -Tchurka had become conceited; he walked in the middle of the street, -as marriageable youths walk, with his cap on one side and his hands in -his pocket. He had taught himself to spit through his teeth like a fine -bold fellow, and he promised: - -"I shall learn to smoke soon. I have already tried twice, but I was -sick." - -All this was displeasing to me. I saw that I was losing my friends, and -it seemed to me that the person to blame was Ludmilla. One evening when -I was in the yard going over the collection of bones and rags and all -kinds of rubbish, she came to me, swaying from side to side and waving -her right hand. - -"How do you do?" she said, bowing her head three times. "Has Kostrom -been with you? And Tchurka?" - -"Tchurka is not friends with us now. It is all your fault. They are -both in love with you and they have quarreled." - -She blushed, but answered mockingly: - -"What next! How is it my fault?" - -"Why do you make them fall in love with you?" - -"I did not ask them to," she said crossly, and as she went away she -added: "It is all nonsense. I am older than they are; I am fourteen. -People do not fall in love with big girls." - -"A lot you know!" I cried, wishing to hurt her. "What about the -shopkeeper, Xlistov's sister? She is quite old, and still she has the -boys after her." - -Ludmilla turned on me, sticking her crutch deep into the sand of the -yard. - -"You don't know anything yourself," she said quickly, with tears in her -voice and her pretty eyes flashing finely. "That shopkeeper is a bad -woman, and I--what am I? I am still a little girl; and--but you ought -to read that novel, 'Kamchadalka," the second part, and then you would -have something to talk about." - -She went away sobbing. I felt sorry for her. In her words was the ring -of a truth of which I was ignorant. Why had she embroiled my comrades? -But they were in love; what else was there to say? - -The next day, wishing to smooth over my difference with Ludmilla, I -bought some barley sugar, her favorite sweet, as I knew well. - -"Would you like some?" - -She said fiercely: - -"Go away! I am not friends with you!" But presently she took the barley -sugar, observing: "You might have had it wrapped up in paper. Your -hands are so dirty!" - -"I have washed them, but it won't come off." - -She took my hand in her dry, hot hand and looked at it. - -"How you have spoiled it!" - -"Well, but yours are roughened." - -"That is done by my needle. I do a lot of sewing." After a few minutes -she suggested, looking round: "I say, let's hide ourselves somewhere -and read 'Kamchadalka.' Would you like it?" - -We were a long time finding a place to hide in, for every place -seemed uncomfortable. At length we decided that the best place was -the wash-house. It was dark there, but we could sit at the window, -which overlooked a dirty corner between the shed and the neighboring -slaughter-house. People hardly ever looked that way. There she used -to sit sidewise to the window, with her bad foot on a stool and the -sound one resting on the floor, and, hiding her face with the torn -book, nervously pronounced many unintelligible and dull words. But I -was stirred. Sitting on the floor, I could see how the grave eyes with -the two pale-blue flames moved across the pages of the book. Sometimes -they were filled with tears, and the girl's voice trembled as she -quickly uttered the unfamiliar words, running them into one another -unintelligibly. However, I grasped some of these words, and tried to -make them into verse, turning them about in all sorts of ways, which -effectually prevented me from understanding what the book said. - -On my knees slumbered the dog, which I had named "Wind," because he -was rough and long, swift in running, and howled like the autumn wind -down the chimney. - -"Are you listening?" the girl would ask. I nodded my head. - -The mixing up of the words excited me more and more, and my desire to -arrange them as they would sound in a song, in which each word lives -and shines like a star in the sky, became more insistent. When it grew -dark Ludmilla would let her pale hand fall on the book and ask: - -"Isn't it good? You will see." - -After the first evening we often sat in the washhouse. Ludmilla, to -my joy, soon gave up reading "Kamchadalka." I could not answer her -questions about what she had read from that endless book--endless, for -there was a third book after the second part which we had begun to -read, and the girl said there was a fourth. What we liked best was a -rainy day, unless it fell on a Saturday, when the bath was heated. The -rain drenched the yard. No one came out or looked at us in our dark -comer. Ludmilla was in great fear that they would discover us. - -I also was afraid that we should be discovered. We used to sit for -hours at a time, talking about one thing and another. Sometimes I told -her some of grandmother's tales, and Ludmilla told me about the lives -of the Kazsakas, on the River Medvyedietz. - -"How lovely it was there!" she would sigh. "Here, what is it? Only -beggars live here." - -Soon we had no need to go to the wash-house. Ludmilla's mother found -work with a fur-dresser, and left the house the first thing in the -morning. Her sister was at school, and her brother worked at a tile -factory. On wet days I went to the girl and helped her to cook, and to -clean the sitting-room and kitchen. She said laughingly: - -"We live together--just like a husband and wife. In fact, we live -better; a husband does not help his wife." - -If I had money, I bought some cakes, and we had tea, afterward cooling -the samovar with cold water, lest the scolding mother of Ludmilla -should guess that it had been heated. Sometimes grandmother came to see -us, and sat down, making lace, sewing, or telling us wonderful stories, -and when grandfather went to the town, Ludmilla used to come to us, and -we feasted without a care in the world. - -Grandmother said: - -"Oh, how happily we live! With our own money we can do what we like." - -She encouraged our friendship. - -"It is a good thing when a boy and girl are friends. Only there must -be no tricks," and she explained in the simplest words what she meant -by "tricks." She spoke beautifully, as one inspired, and made me -understand thoroughly that it is wrong to pluck the flower before it -opens, for then it will have neither fragrance nor fruit. - -We had no inclination for "tricks," but that did not hinder Ludmilla -and me from speaking of that subject, on which one is supposed to be -silent. Such subjects of conversation were in a way forced upon us -because the relationship of the sexes was so often and tiresomely -brought to our notice in their coarsest form, and was very offensive to -us. - -Ludmilla's father was a handsome man of forty, curly-headed and -whiskered, and had an extremely masterful way of moving his eyebrows. -He was strangely silent; I do not remember one word uttered by him. -When he caressed his children he uttered unintelligible sounds, like a -dumb person, and even when he beat his wife he did it in silence. - -On the evenings of Sundays and festivals, attired in a light-blue -shirt, with wide plush trousers and highly polished boots, he would go -out to the gate with a harmonica slung with straps behind his back, -and stand there exactly like a soldier doing sentry duty. Presently -a sort of "promenade" would begin past our gate. One after the other -girls and women would pass, glancing at Evsyenko furtively from under -their eyelashes, or quite openly, while he stood sticking out his lower -lip, and also looking with discriminating glances from, his dark eyes. -There was something repugnantly dog-like in this silent conversation -with the eyes alone, and from the slow, rapt movement of the women as -they passed it seemed as if the chosen one, at an imperious flicker of -the man's eyelid, would humbly sink to the dirty ground as if she were -killed. - -"Tipsy brute! Brazen face!" grumbled Ludmilla's mother. She was a tall, -thin woman, with a long face and a bad-complexion, and hair which had -been cut short after typhus. She was like a worn-out broom. - -Ludmilla sat beside her, unsuccessfully trying to turn her attention -from the street by asking questions about one thing and another. - -"Stop it, you monster!" muttered the mother, blinking restlessly. Her -narrow Mongol eyes were strangely bright and immovable, always fixed on -something and always stationary. - -"Don't be angry, Mamochka; it doesn't matter," Ludmilla would say. -"Just look how the mat-maker's widow is dressed up!" - -"I should be able to dress better if it were not for you three. You -have eaten me up, devoured me," said the mother, pitilessly through her -tears, fixing her eyes on the large, broad figure of the mat-maker's -widow. - -She was like a small house. Her chest stuck out like the roof, and her -red face, half hidden by the green handkerchief which was tied round -it, was like a dormer-window when the sun is reflected on it. Evsyenko, -drawing his harmonica to his chest, began to play. The harmonica played -many tunes; the sounds traveled a long way, and the children came -from all the street around, and fell in the sand at the feet of the -performer, trembling with ecstasy. - -"You wait; I'll give you something!" the woman promised her husband. - -He looked at her askance, without speaking. And the mat-maker's widow -sat not far off on the Xlistov's bench, listening intently. - -In the field behind the cemetery the sunset was red. In the street, -as on a river, floated brightly clothed, great pieces of flesh. The -children rushed along like a whirlwind; the warm air was caressing and -intoxicating. A pungent odor rose from the sand, which had been made -hot by the sun during the day, and peculiarly noticeable was a fat, -sweet smell from the slaughter-house--the smell of blood. From the yard -where the fur-dresser lived came the salt and bitter odor of tanning. -The women's chatter, the drunken roar of the men, the bell-like voices -of the children, the bass melody of the harmonica--all mingled together -in one deep rumble. The earth, which is ever, creating, gave a mighty -sigh. All was coarse and naked, but it instilled a great, deep faith -in that gloomy life, so shamelessly animal. At times above the noise -certain painful, never-to-be-forgotten words went straight to one's -heart: - -"It is not right for you all together to set upon one. You must take -turns." "Who pities us when we do not pity ourselves?" "Did God bring -women into the world in order to deride them?" - -The night drew near, the air became fresher, the sounds became more -subdued. The wooden houses seemed to swell and grow taller, clothing -themselves with shadows. The children were dragged away from the yard -to bed. Some of them were already asleep by the fence or at the feet -or on the knees of their mothers. Most of the children grew quieter and -more docile with the night. Evsyenko disappeared unnoticed; he seemed -to have melted away. The mat-maker's widow was also missing. The bass -notes of the harmonica could be heard somewhere in the distance, beyond -the cemetery. Ludmilla's mother sat on a bench doubled up, with her -back stuck out like a cat. My grandmother had gone out to take tea with -a neighbor, a midwife, a great fat woman with a nose like a duck's, -and a gold medal "for saving lives" on her flat, masculine-looking -chest. The whole street feared her, regarding her as a witch, and it -was related of her that she had carried out of the flames, when a fire -broke out, the three children and sick wife of a certain colonel. There -was a friendship between grandmother and her. When they met in the -street they used to smile at each other from a long way off, as if they -had seen something specially pleasant. - -Kostrom, Ludmilla, and I sat on the bench at the gate. Tchurka had -called upon Ludmilla's brother to wrestle with him. Locked in each -other's arms they trampled down the sand and became angry. - -"Leave off!" cried Ludmilla, timorously. - -Looking at her sidewise out of his black eyes, Kostrom told a story -about the hunter Kalinin, a grayhaired old man with cunning eyes, a man -of evil fame, known to all the village. He had not long been dead, but -they had not buried him in the earth in the graveyard, but had placed -his coffin above ground, away from the other graves. The coffin was -black, on tall trestles; on the lid were drawn in white paint a cross, -a spear, a reed, and two bones. Every night, as soon as it grew dark, -the old man rose from his coffin and walked about the cemetery, looking -for something, till the first cock crowed. - -"Don't talk about such dreadful things!" begged Ludmilla. - -"Nonsense!" cried Tchurka, breaking away from her brother. "What are -you telling lies for? I saw them bury the coffin myself, and the one -above ground is simply a monument. As to a dead man walking about, the -drunken blacksmith set the idea afloat." Kostrom, without looking at -him, suggested: - -"Go and sleep in the cemetery; then you will see." They began to -quarrel, and Ludmilla, shaking her head sadly, asked: - -"Mamochka, do dead people walk about at night?" "They do," answered her -mother, as if the question had called her back from a distance. - -The son of the shopkeeper Valek, a tall, stout, red-faced youth of -twenty, came to us, and, hearing what we were disputing about, said: - -"I will give three _greven_ and ten cigarettes to whichever of you -three will sleep till daylight on the coffin, and I will pull the ears -of the one who is afraid--as long as he likes. Well?" - -We were all silent, confused, and Ludmilla's mother said: - -"What nonsense! What do you mean by putting the children up to such -nonsense?" - -"You hand over a ruble, and I will go," announced Tchurka, gruffly. - -Kostrom at once asked spitefully: - -"But for two _greven_--you would be afraid?" Then he said to Valek: -"Give him the ruble. But he won't go; he is only making believe." - -"Well, take the ruble." - -Tchurka rose, and, without saying a word and without hurrying, went -away, keeping close to the fence. Kostrom, putting his fingers in his -mouth, whistled piercingly after him.; but Ludmilla said uneasily: - -"O Lord, what a braggart he is! I never!" - -"Where are you going, coward?" jeered Valek. "And you call yourself -the first fighter in the street!" It was offensive to listen to his -jeers. We did not like this overfed youth; he was always putting up -little boys to do wrong, told them obscene stories of girls and women, -and taught them to tease them. The children did what he told them, -and suffered dearly for it. For some reason or other he hated my dog, -and used to throw stones at it, and one day gave it some bread with -a needle in it. But it was still more offensive to see Tchurka going -away, shrinking and ashamed. - -I said to Valek: - -"Give me the ruble, and I will go." - -Mocking me and trying to frighten me, he held out the ruble to -Ludmilla's mother, who would not take it, and said sternly: - -"I don't want it, and I won't have it!" Then she went out angrily. - -Ludmilla also could not make up her mind to take the money, and this -made Valek jeer the more. I was going away without obtaining the money -when grandmother came along" and, being told all about it, took the -ruble, saying to me softly: - -"Put on your overcoat and take a blanket with you, for it grows cold -toward morning." - -Her words raised my hopes that nothing terrible would happen to me. - -Valek laid it down on a condition that I should either lie or sit on -the coffin until it was light, not leaving it, whatever happened, even -if the coffin shook when the old man Kalinin began to climb out of the -tomb. If I jumped to the ground I had lost. - -"And remember," said Valek, "that I shall be watching you all night." - -When I set out for the cemetery grandmother made the sign of the cross -over me and kissed me. - -"If you should see a glimpse of anything, don't move, but just say, -'Hail, Mary.'" - -I went along quickly, my one desire being to begin and finish the -whole thing. Valek, Kostrom, and another youth escorted me thither. As -I was getting over the brick wall I got mixed up in the blanket, and -fell down, but was up in the same moment, as if the earth had ejected -me. There was a chuckle from the other side of the wall. My heart -contracted; a cold chill ran down my back. - -I went stumblingly on to the black coffin, against one side of which -the sand had drifted, while on the other side could be seen the short, -thick legs. It looked as if some one had tried to lift it up, and had -succeeded only in making it totter. I sat on the edge of the coffin and -looked around. The hilly cemetery was simply packed with gray crosses; -quivering shadows fell upon the graves. - -Here and there, scattered among the graves, slender willows stood up, -uniting adjoining graves with their branches. Through the lace-work of -their shadows blades of grass stuck up. - -The church rose up in the sky like a snow-drift, and in the motionless -clouds shone the small setting moon. - -The father of Yaz, "the good-for-nothing peasant," was lazily ringing -his bell in his lodge. Each time, as he pulled the string, it caught in -the iron plate of the roof and squeaked pitifully, after which could -be heard the metallic clang of the little bell. It sounded sharp and -sorrowful. - -"God give us rest!" I remembered the saying of the watchman. It was -very painful and somehow it was suffocating. I was perspiring freely -although the night was cool. Should I have time to run into the -watchman's lodge if old Kalinin really did try to creep out of his -grave? - -I was well acquainted with the cemetery. I had played among the graves -many times with Yaz and other comrades. Over there by the church my -mother was buried. - -Every one was not asleep yet, for snatches of laughter and fragments -of songs were borne to me from the village. Either on the railway -embankment, to which they were carrying sand, or in the village of -Katizovka a harmonica gave forth a strangled sound. Along the wall, as -usual, went the drunken blacksmith Myachov, singing. I recognized him -by his song: - - "To our mother's door - One small sin we lay. - The only one she loves - Is our Papasha." - -It was pleasant to listen to the last sighs of life, but at each stroke -of the bell it became quieter, and the quietness overflowed like a -river over a meadow, drowning and hiding everything. One's soul seemed -to float in boundless and unfathomable space, to be extinguished -like the light of a catch in the darkness, becoming dissolved -without leaving a trace in that ocean of space in which live only -the unattainable stars, shining brightly, while everything on earth -disappears as being useless and dead. Wrapping myself in the blanket, -I sat on the coffin, with my feet tucked under me and my face to the -church. Whenever I moved, the coffin squeaked, and the sand under it -crunched. - -Something twice struck the ground close to me, and then a piece of -brick fell near by. I was frightened, but then I guessed that Valek -and his friends were throwing things at me from the other side of the -wall, trying to scare me. But I felt all the better for the proximity -of human creatures. - -I began unwillingly to think of my mother. Once she had found me trying -to smoke a cigarette. She began to beat me, but I said: - -"Don't touch me; I feel bad enough without that. I feel very sick." - -Afterward, when I was put behind the stove as a punishment, she said to -grandmother: - -"That boy has no feeling; he does n't love any one." It hurt me to -hear that. When my mother punished me I was sorry for her. I felt -uncomfortable for her sake, because she seldom punished me deservedly -or justly. On the whole, I had received a great deal of ill treatment -in my life. Those people on the other side of the fence, for example, -must know that I was frightened of being alone in the cemetery, yet -they wanted to frighten me more. Why? - -I should like to have shouted to them, "Go to the devil!" but that -might have been disastrous. Who knew what the devil would think of it, -for no doubt he was somewhere near? There was a lot of mica in the -sand, and it gleamed faintly in the moonlight, which reminded me how, -lying one day on a raft on the Oka, gazing into the water, a bream -suddenly swam almost in my face, turned on its side, looking like a -human cheek, and, looking at me with its round, bird-like eyes, dived -to the bottom, fluttering like a leaf falling from a maple-tree. - -My memory worked with increasing effort, recalling different episodes -of my life, as if it were striving to protect itself against the -imaginations evoked by terror. - -A hedgehog came rolling along, tapping on the sand with its strong -paws. It reminded me of a hobgoblin; it was just as little and as -disheveled-looking. - -I remembered how grandmother, squatting down beside the stove, said, -"Kind master of the house, take away the beetles." - -Far away over the town, which I could not see, it grew lighter. The -cold morning air blew against my cheeks and into my eyes. I wrapped -myself in my blanket. Let come what would! - -Grandmother awoke me. Standing beside me and pulling off the blanket, -she said: - -"Get up! Aren't you chilled? Well, were you frightened?" - -"I was frightened, but don't tell any one; don't tell the other boys." - -"But why not?" she asked in amazement. "If you were not afraid, you -have nothing to be proud about." - -As he went home she said to me gently: - -"You have to experience things for yourself in this world, dear heart. -If you can't teach yourself, no one else can teach you." - -By the evening I was the "hero" of the street, and every one asked me, -"Is it possible that you were not afraid?" And when I answered, "I was -afraid," they shook their heads and exclaimed, "Aha! you see!" - -The shopkeeper went about saying loudly: - -"It may be that they talked nonsense when they said that Kalinin -walked. But if he did, do you think he would have frightened that boy? -No, he would have driven him out of the cemetery, and no one would know -where he went." - -Ludmilla looked at me with tender astonishment. Even grandfather was -obviously pleased with me. They all made much of me. Only Tchurka said -gruffly: - -"It was easy enough for him; his grandmother is a witch!" - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Imperceptibly, like a little star at dawn, my brother Kolia faded away. -Grandmother, he, and I slept in a small shed on planks covered with -various rags. On the other side of the chinky wall of the outhouse -was the family poultry-house. We could hear the sleepy, overfed fowls -fluttering and clucking in the evening, and the golden, shrill-voiced -cock awoke us in the morning. - -"Oh, I should like to tear you to pieces!" grandmother would grumble -when they woke her. - -I was already awake, watching the sunbeams falling through the chinks -upon my bed, and the silver specks of dust which danced in them. These -little specks seemed to me just like the words in a fairy-tale. Mice -had gnawed the planks, and red beetles with black spots ran about there. - -Sometimes, to escape from the stifling fumes which arose from the -soil in the fowl-house, I crept out of the wooden hut, climbed to the -roof, and watched the people of the house waking up, eyeless, large, -and swollen with sleep. Here appeared the hairy noddle of the boatman -Phermanov, a surly drunkard, who gazed at the sun with blear, running -eyes and grunted like a bear. Then grandfather came hurrying out into -the yard and hastened to the wash-house to wash himself in cold water. -The garrulous cook of the landlord, a sharp-nosed woman, thickly -covered with freckles, was like a cuckoo. The landlord himself was like -an old fat dove. In fact, they were all like some bird, animal, or wild -beast. - -Although the morning was so pleasant and bright, it made me feel sad, -and I wanted to get away into the fields where no one came, for I had -already learned that human creatures always spoil a bright day. - -One day when I was lying on the roof grandmother called me, and said in -a low voice, shaking her head as she lay on her bed: - -"Kolia is dead." - -The little boy had slipped from the pillow, and lay livid, lanky on -the felt cover. His night-shirt had worked itself up round his neck, -leaving bare his swollen stomach and crooked legs. His hands were -curiously folded behind his back, as if he had been trying to lift -himself up. His head was bent on one side. - -"Thank God he has gone!" said grandmother as she did her hair. "What -would have become of the poor little wretch had he lived?" - -Treading almost as if he were dancing, grandfather made his appearance, -and cautiously touched the closed eyes of the child with his fingers. - -Grandmother asked him angrily: - -"What do you mean by touching him with unwashen hands?" - -He muttered: - -"There you are! He gets born, lives, and eats, and all for nothing." - -"You are half asleep," grandmother cut him short. - -He looked at her vacantly, and went out in the yard, saying: - -"I am not going to give him a funeral; you can do what you like about -it." - -"Phoo! you miserable creature!" - -I went out, and did not return until it was close upon evening. They -buried Kolia on the morning of the following day, and during the mass I -sat by the reopened grave with my dog and Yaz's father. He had dug the -grave cheaply, and kept praising himself for it before my face. - -"I have only done this out of friendship; for any one else I should -have charged so many rubles." - -Looking into the yellow pit, from which arose a heavy odor, I saw some -moist black planks at one side. At my slightest movement the heaps of -sand around the grave fell to the bottom in a thin stream, leaving -wrinkles in the sides. I moved on purpose, so that the sand would hide -those boards. - -"No larks now!" said Yaz's father, as he smoked. - -Grandmother carried out the little coffin. The "trashy peasant" sprang -into the hole, took the coffin from her, placed it beside the black -boards, and, jumping out of the grave, began to hurl the earth into it -with his feet and his spade. Grandfather and grandmother also helped -him in silence. There were neither priests nor beggars there; only we -four amid a dense crowd of crosses. As she gave the sexton his money, -grandmother said reproachfully: - -"But you have disturbed Varina's coffin." - -"What else could I do? If I had not done that, I should have had to -take some one else's piece of ground. But there's nothing to worry -about." - -Grandmother prostrated herself on the grave, sobbed and groaned, and -went away, followed by grandfather, his eyes hidden by the peak of his -cap, clutching at his worn coat. - -"They have sown the seed in unplowed ground," he said suddenly, running -along in front, just like a crow on the plowed field. - -"What does he mean?" I asked grandmother. "God bless him! He has his -thoughts," she answered. - -It was hot. Grandmother went heavily; her feet sank in the warm -sand. She halted frequently, mopping her perspiring face with her -handkerchief. - -"That black thing in the grave," I asked her, "was it mother's coffin?" - -"Yes," she said angrily. "Ignorant dog! It is not a year yet, and our -Varia is already decayed! It is the sand that has done it; it lets the -water through. If that had to happen, it would have been better to--" -"Shall we all decay?" - -"All. Only the saints escape it." - -"You--you will not decay!" - -She halted, set my cap straight, and said to me seriously: - -"Don't think about it; it is better not. Do you hear?" - -But I did think of it. How offensive and revolting death was! How -odious! I felt very badly about it. - -When we reached home grandfather had already prepared the samovar and -laid the table. - -"Come and have some tea. I expect you are hot," he said. "I have put in -my own tea as well. This is for us all." - -He went to grandmother and patted her on the shoulder. - -"Well, Mother, well?" - -Grandmother held up her hands. - -"Whatever does it all mean?" - -"This is what it means: God is angry with us; He is tearing everything -away from us bit by bit. If families lived together in unity, like -fingers on a hand--" - -It was long since he had spoken so gently and peaceably. I listened, -hoping that the old man would extinguish my sense of injury, and help -me to forget the yellow pit and the black moist boards in protuberance -in its side. But grandmother cut him short harshly: - -"Leave off, Father! You have been uttering words like that all your -life, and I should like to know who is the better for them? All your -life you have eaten into every one as rust corrodes iron." - -Grandfather muttered, looked at her, and held his tongue. - -In the evening, at the gate, I told Ludmilla sorrowfully about what I -had seen in the morning, but it did not seem to make much impression on -her. - -"Orphans are better off. If my father and mother were to die, I should -leave my sister to look after my brother, and I myself would go into a -convent for the rest of my life. Where else should I go? I don't expect -to get married, being lame and unable to work. Besides, I might bring -crippled children into the world." - -She spoke wisely, like all the women of our street, and it must have -been from that evening that I lost interest in her. In fact, my life -took a turn which caused me to see her very seldom. - -A few days after the death of my brother, grandfather said to me: - -"Go to bed early this evening, while it is still light, and I will call -you. We will go into the forest and get some logs." - -"And I will come and gather herbs," declared grandmother. - -The forest of fir- and birch-trees stood on a marsh about three versts -distant from the village. Abounding in withered and fallen trees, it -stretched in one direction to the Oka, and in the other to the high -road to Moscow. Beyond it, with its soft, black bristles looking like -a black tent, rose the fir-thicket on the "Ridge of Savelov." - -All this property belonged to Count Shuvalov, and was badly guarded. -The inhabitants of Kunavin regarded it as their own, carried away the -fallen trees and cut off the dried wood, and on occasion were not -squeamish about cutting down living trees. In the autumn, when they -were laying in a stock of wood for the winter, people used to steal out -here by the dozen, with hatchets and ropes on their backs. - -And so we three went out at dawn over the silver-green, dewy fields. On -our left, beyond the Oka, above the ruddy sides of the Hill of Dyatlov, -above white Nijni-Novgorod, on the hillocks in the gardens, on the -golden domes of churches, rose the lazy Russian sun in its leisurely -manner. A gentle wind blew sleepily from the turbid Oka; the golden -buttercups, bowed down by the dew, sway to and fro; lilac-colored bells -bowed dumbly to the earth; everlasting flowers of different colors -stuck up dryly in the barren turf; the blood-red blossoms of the flower -called "night beauty" opened like stars. The woods came to meet us like -a dark army; the fir-trees spread out their wings like large birds; -the birches looked like maidens. The acrid smell of the marshes flowed -over the fields. My dog ran beside me with his pink tongue hanging out, -often halting and snuffing the air, and shaking his foxlike head, as -if in perplexity. Grandfather, in grandmother's short coat and an old -peakless cap, blinking and smiling at something or other, walked as -cautiously as if he were bent on stealing. Grandmother, wearing a blue -blouse, a black skirt, and a white handkerchief about her head, waddled -comfortably. It was difficult to hurry when walking behind her. - -The nearer we came to the forest, the more animated grandfather became. -Walking with his nose in the air and muttering, he began to speak, -at first disjointedly and inarticulately, and afterward happily and -beautifully, almost as if he had been drinking. - -"The forests are the Lord's gardens. No one planted them save the -wind of God and the holy breath of His mouth. When I was working on -the boats in my youth I went to Jegoulya. Oh, Lexei, you will never -have the experiences I have had! There are forests along the Oka, from -Kasimov to Mouron, and there are forests on the Volga, too, stretching -as far as the Urals. Yes; it is all so boundless and wonderful." - -Grandmother looked at him askance, and winked at me, and he, stumbling -over the hillocks, let fall some disjointed, dry words that have -remained forever fixed in my memory. - -"We were taking some empty oil-casks from Saratov to Makara on the -Yamarka, and we had with us as skipper Kyril of Poreshka. The mate -was a Tatar--Asaph, or some such name. When we reached Jegulia the -wind was right in our faces, blowing with all its force; and as it -remained in the same quarter and tossed us about, we went on shore -to cook some food for ourselves. It was Maytime. The sea lay smooth -around the land, and the waves just floated on her? like a flock of -birds--like thousands of swans which sport on the Caspian Sea. The -hills of Jegulia are green in the springtime; the sun floods the earth -with gold. We rested; we became friendly; we seemed to be drawn to one -another. It was gray and cold on the river, but on shore it was warm -and fragrant. At eventide our Kyril--he was a harsh man and well on in -years--stood up, took off his cap, and said: 'Well, children, I am no -longer either chief or servant. Go away by yourselves, and I will go -to the forest.' We were all startled. What was it that he was saying? -We ought not to be left without some one responsible to be master. You -see, people can't get on without a head, although it is only on the -Volga, which is like a straight road. It is possible to lose one's -way, for people alone are only like a senseless beast, and who cares -what becomes of them? We were frightened; but he--he had made up his -mind. I have no desire to go on living as your shepherd; I am going -into the forest.' Some of us had half a mind to seize and keep him by -force, but the others said, 'Wait!' Then the Tatar mate set up a cry: -I shall go, too!' It was very bad luck. The Tatar had not been paid by -the proprietors for the last two journeys; in fact, he had done half of -a third one without pay, and that was a lot of money to lose in those -days. We wrangled over the matter until night, and then seven of our -company left us, leaving only sixteen or fourteen of us. That's what -your forests do for people!" - -"Did they go and join the brigands?" - -"Maybe, or they may have become hermits. We did not inquire into the -matter then." - -Grandmother crossed herself. - -"Holy Mother of God! When one thinks of people, one cannot help being -sorry for them." - -"We are all given the same powers of reason, you know, where the devil -draws." - -We entered the forest by a wet path between marshy hillocks and frail -fir-trees. I thought that it must be lovely to go and live in the woods -as Kyril of Poreshka had done. There are no chattering human creatures -there, no fights or drunkenness. There I should be able to forget the -repulsive greediness of grandfather and mother's sandy grave, all -of which things hurt me, and weighed on my heart with an oppressive -heaviness. When we came to a dry place grandmother said: - -"We must have a snack now. Sit down." - -In her basket there were rye bread, onions, cucumbers, salt, and curds -wrapped in a cloth. Grandfather looked at all this in confusion and -blinked. - -"But I did not bring anything to eat, good Mother." - -"There is enough for us all." - -We sat down, leaning against the mast-like trunk of a fir-tree. The -air was laden with a resinous odor; from the fields blew a gentle -wind; the shave-grass waved to and fro. Grandmother plucked the herbs -with her dark hands, and told me about the medicinal properties of -St. John's-wort, betony, and rib-wort, and of the secret power of -bracken. Grandfather hewed the fallen trees in pieces, and it was my -part to carry the logs and put them all in one place; but I stole away -unnoticed into the thicket after grandmother. She looked as if she were -floating among the stout, hardy tree-trunks, and as if she were diving -when she stooped to the earth, which was strewn with fir-cones. She -talked to herself as she went along. - -"We have come too early again. There will be hardly any mushrooms. -Lord, how badly Thou lookest after the poor! Mushrooms are the treat of -the poor." - -I followed her silently and cautiously, not to attract her attention. I -did not wish to interrupt her conversation with God, the herbs, and the -frogs. But she saw me. - -"Have you run away from grandfather?" And stooping to the black earth, -splendidly decked in flowered vestments, she spoke of the time when -God, enraged with mankind, flooded the earth with water and drowned all -living creatures. "But the sweet Mother of God had beforehand collected -the seeds of everything in a basket and hidden them, and when it was -all over, she begged the sun: 'Dry the earth from end to end, and then -will all the people sing thy praises.' The sun dried the earth, and -she sowed the seed. God looked. Once more the earth was covered with -living creatures, herbs, cattle, and people. 'Who has done this against -My will?' He asked. And here she confessed, and as God had been sorry -Himself to see the earth bare, He said to her, 'You have done well.'" - -I liked this story, but it surprised me, and I said very gravely: - -"But was that really so? The Mother of God was born long after the -flood." - -It was now grandmother's turn to be surprised. - -"Who told you that?" - -"It was written in the books at school." - -This reassured her, and she gave me the advice: - -"Put all that aside; forget it. It is only out of books; they are lies, -those books." And laughing softly, gayly, "Think for a moment, silly! -God was; and His Mother was not? Then of whom was He born?" - -"I don't know." - -"Good! You have learned enough to be able to say 'I don't know.'" - -"The priest said that the Mother of God was born of Joachim and Anna." - -Then grandmother was angry. She faced about, and looked sternly into my -eyes. - -"If that is what you think, I will slap you." But in the course of a -few minutes she explained to me. "The Blessed Virgin always existed -before any one and anything. Of Her was God born, and then--" - -"And Christ, what about Him?" - -Grandmother was silent, shutting her eyes in her confusion. - -"And what about Christ? Eh? eh?" - -I saw that I was victor, that I had caused the divine mysteries to be a -snare to her, and it was not a pleasant thought. - -We went farther and farther into the forest, into the dark-blue haze -pierced by the golden rays of the sun. There was a peculiar murmur, -dreamy, and arousing dreams. The crossbill chirped, the titmouses -uttered their bell-like notes, the goldfinch piped, the cuckoo laughed, -the jealous song of the chaffinch was heard unceasingly, and that -strange bird, the hawfinch, sang pensively. Emerald-green frogs hopped -around our feet; among the roots, guarding them, lay an adder, with his -golden head raised; the squirrel cracked nuts, his furry tail peeping -out among the fir-trees. The deeper one went into the forest, the more -one saw. - -Among the trunks of the fir-trees appeared transparent, aërial figures -of gigantic people, which disappeared into the green mass through which -the blue and silver sky shone. Under one's feet there was a splendid -carpet of moss, sown with red bilberries, and moor-berries shone in the -grass like drops of blood. Mushrooms tantalized one with their strong -smell. - -"Holy Virgin, bright earthly light," prayed grandmother, drawing a deep -breath. - -In the forest she was like the mistress of a house with all her family -round her. She ambled along like a bear, seeing and praising everything -and giving thanks. It seemed as if a certain warmth flowed from her -through the forest, and when the moss, crushed by her feet, raised -itself and stood up in her wake, it was peculiarly pleasing to me to -see it. - -As I walked along I thought how nice it would be to be a brigand; -to rob the greedy and give the spoil to the poor; to make them all -happy and satisfied, neither envying nor scolding one another, like -bad-tempered curs. It was good to go thus to grandmother's God, to her -Holy Virgin, and tell them all the truth about the bad lives people -led, and how clumsily and offensively they buried one another in -rubbishy sand. And there was so much that was unnecessarily repulsive -and torturing on earth! If the Holy Virgin believed what I said, let -her give me such an intelligence as would enable me to construct -everything differently and improve the condition of things. It did not -matter about my not being grown-up. Christ had been only a year older -than I was when the wise men listened to Him. - -Once in my preoccupation I fell into a deep pit, hurting my side and -grazing the back of my neck. Sitting at the bottom of this pit in the -cold mud, which was as sticky as resin, I realized with a feeling of -intense humiliation that I should not be able to get out by myself, -and I did not like the idea of frightening grandmother by calling out. -However, I had to call her in the end. She soon dragged me out, and, -crossing herself, said: - -"The Lord be praised! It is a lucky thing that the bear's pit was -empty. What would have happened to you if the master of the house had -been lying there?" And she cried through her laughter. - -Then she took me to the brook, washed my wounds and tied them up with -strips of her chemise, after laying some healing leaves upon them, and -took me into the railway signal-box, for I had not the strength to get -all the way home. - -And so it happened that almost every day I said to grandmother: - -"Let us go into the forest." - -She used to agree willingly, and thus we lived all the summer and -far into the autumn, gathering herbs, berries, mushrooms, and nuts. -Grandmother sold what we gathered, and by this means we were able to -keep ourselves. - -"Lazy beggars!" shrieked grandfather, though we never had food from him. - -The forest called up a feeling of peace and solace in my heart, and -in that feeling all my griefs were swallowed up, and all that was -unpleasant was obliterated. During that time also my senses acquired a -peculiar keenness, my hearing and sight became more acute, my memory -more retentive, my storehouse of impressions widened. - -And the more I saw of grandmother, the more she amazed me. I had been -accustomed to regard her as a higher being, as the very best and the -wisest creature upon the earth, and she was continually strengthening -this conviction. For instance, one evening we had been gathering white -mushrooms, and when we arrived at the edge of the forest on our way -home grandmother sat down to rest while I went behind the tree to see -if there were any more mushrooms. Suddenly I heard her voice, and this -is what I saw: she was seated by the footpath calmly putting away the -root of a mushroom, while near her, with his tongue hanging out, stood -a gray, emaciated dog. - -"You go away now! Go away!" said grandmother. "Go, and God be with you!" - -Not long before that Valek had poisoned my dog, and I wanted very -much to have this one. I ran to the path. The dog hunched himself -strangely without moving his neck, and, looking at me with his green, -hungry eyes, leaped into the forest, with his tail between his legs. -His movements were not those of a dog, and when I whistled, he hurled -himself wildly into the bushes. - -"You saw?" said grandmother, smiling. "At first I was deceived. I -thought it was a dog. I looked again and saw that I was mistaken. He -had the fangs of a wolf, and the neck, too. I was quite frightened. -'Well,' I said, 'if you are a wolf, take yourself off!' It is a good -thing that wolves are not dangerous in the summer." - -She was never afraid in the forest, and always found her way home -unerringly. By the smell of the grass she knew what kind of mushrooms -ought to be found in such and such a place, what sort in another, and -often examined me in the subject. - -"What sort of trees do this and that fungus love? How do you -distinguish the edible from the poisonous?" - -By hardly visible scratches on the bark of a tree she showed me where -the squirrel had made his home in a hollow, and I would climb up and -ravage the nest of the animal, robbing him of his winter store of -nuts. Sometimes there were as many as ten pounds in one nest. And one -day, when I was thus engaged, a hunter planted twenty-seven shot in -the right side of my body. Grandmother got eleven of them out with a -needle, but the rest remained under my skin for many years, coming out -by degrees. - -Grandmother was pleased with me for bearing pain patiently. - -"Brave boy!" she praised me. "He who is most patient will be the -cleverest." - -Whenever she had saved a little money from the sale of mushrooms and -nuts, she used to lay it on window-sills as "secret alms," and she -herself went about in rags and patches even on Sundays. - -"You go about worse than a beggar. You put me to shame," grumbled -grandfather. - -"What does it matter to you? I am not your daughter. I am not looking -for a husband." - -Their quarrels had become more frequent. - -"I am not more sinful than others," cried grandfather in injured tones, -"but my punishment is greater." - -Grandmother used to tease him. - -"The devils know what every one is worth." And she would say to me -privately: "My old man is frightened of devils. See how quickly he is -aging! It is all from fear; eh, poor man!" - -I had become very hardy during the summer, and quite savage through -living in the forest, and I had lost all interest in the life of my -contemporaries, such as Ludmilla. She seemed to me to be tiresomely -sensible. - -One day grandfather returned from the town very wet. It was autumn, -and the rains were falling. Shaking himself on the threshold like a -sparrow, he said triumphantly: - -"Well, young rascal, you are going to a new situation to-morrow." - -"Where now?" asked grandmother, angrily. - -"To your sister Matrena, to her son." - -"O Father, you have done very wrong." - -"Hold your tongue, fool! They will make a man of him." - -Grandmother let her head droop and said nothing more. - -In the evening I told Ludmilla that I was going to live in the town. - -"They are going to take me there soon," she informed me, thoughtfully. -"Papa wants my leg to be taken off altogether. Without it I should get -well." - -She had grown very thin during the summer; the skin of her face had -assumed a bluish tint, and her eyes had grown larger. - -"Are you afraid?" I asked her. - -"Yes," she replied, and wept silently. - -I had no means of consoling her, for I was frightened myself at the -prospect of life in town. We sat for a long time in painful silence, -pressed close against each other. If it had been summer, I should have -asked grandmother to come begging with me, as she had done when she -was a girl. We might have taken Ludmilla with us; I could have drawn -her along in a little cart. But it was autumn. A damp wind blew up the -streets, the sky was heavy with rain-clouds, the earth frowned. It had -begun to look dirty and unhappy. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -Once more I was in the town, in a two-storied white house which -reminded me of a coffin meant to hold a lot of people. It was a new -house, but it looked as if were in ill health, and was bloated like -a beggar who has suddenly become rich and has overeaten. It stood -sidewise to the street, and had eight windows to each floor, but where -the face of the house ought to have been there were only four windows. -The lower windows looked on a narrow passage and on the yard, and the -upper windows on the laundress's little house and the causeway. - -No street, as I understood the term, existed. In front of the house a -dirty causeway ran in two directions, cut in two by a narrow dike. To -the left, it extended to the House of Detention, and was heaped with -rubbish and logs, and at the bottom stood a thick pool of dark-green -filth. On the right, at the end of the causeway, the slimy Xvyexdin -Pond stagnated. The middle of the causeway was exactly opposite -the house, and half of it was strewn with filth and overgrown with -nettles and horse sorrel, while in the other half the priest Doriedont -Pokrovski had planted a garden in which was a summer-house of thin -lathes painted red. If one threw stones at it, the lathes split with a -crackling sound. - -The place was intolerably depressing and shamelessly dirty. The -autumn had ruthlessly broken up the filthy, rotten earth, changing it -into a sort of red resin which clung to one's feet tenaciously. I had -never seen so much dirt in so small a space before, and after being -accustomed to the cleanliness of the fields and forests, this corner of -the town aroused my disgust. - -Beyond the causeway stretched gray, broken-down fences, and in the -distance I recognized the little house in which I had lived when I was -shop-boy. The nearness of that house depressed me still more. I had -known my master before; he and his brother used to be among mother's -visitors. His brother it was who had sung so comically: - - "Andrei--papa, Andrei--papa--" - -They were not changed. The elder, with a hook nose and long hair, was -pleasant in manner and seemed to be kind; the younger, Victor, had the -same horse-like face and the same freckles. Their mother, grandmother's -sister, was very cross and fault-finding. The elder son was married. -His wife was a splendid creature, white like bread made from Indian -corn, with very large, dark eyes. She said to me twice during the first -day: - -"I gave your mother a silk cloak trimmed with jet." - -Somehow I did not want to believe that she had given, and that my -mother had accepted, a present. When she reminded me of it again, I -said: - -"You gave it to her, and that is the end of the matter; there is -nothing to boast about." - -She started away from me. - -"Wh-a-at? To whom are you speaking?" - -Her face came out in red blotches, her eyes rolled, and she called her -husband. - -He came into the kitchen, with his compasses in his hand and a pencil -behind his ear, listened to what his wife had to say, and then said to -me: - -"You must speak properly to her and to us all. There must be no -insolence." Then he said to his wife, impatiently, "Don't disturb me -with your nonsense!" - -"What do you mean--nonsense? If your relatives--" - -"The devil take my relatives!" cried the master, rushing away. - -I myself was not pleased to think that they were relatives of -grandmother. Experience had taught me that relatives behave worse to -one another than do strangers. Their gossip is more spiteful, since -they know more of the bad and ridiculous sides of one another than -strangers, and they fall out and fight more often. - -I liked my master. He used to shake back his hair with a graceful -movement, and tuck it behind his ears, and he reminded me somehow of -"Good Business." He often laughed merrily; his gray eyes looked kindly -upon me, and funny wrinkles played divertingly about his aquiline nose. - -"You have abused each other long enough, wild fowl," he would say to -his mother and his wife, showing his small, closely set teeth in a -gentle smile. - -The mother-in-law and the daughter-in-law abused each other all day. -I was surprised to see how swiftly and easily they plunged into a -quarrel. The first thing in the morning, with their hair unbrushed -and their clothes unfastened, they would rush about the rooms as if -the house were on fire, and they fussed about all day, only pausing -to take breath in the dining-room at dinner, tea, or supper. They ate -and drank till they could eat and drink no more, and at dinner they -talked about the food and disputed lethargically, preparing for a big -quarrel. No matter what it was that the mother-in-law had prepared, the -daughter-in-law was sure to say: - -"My mother did not cook it this way." - -"Well, if that is so, she did it badly, that's all." "On the contrary, -she did it better." - -"Well, you had better go back to your mother." - -"I am mistress here." - -"And who am I?" - -Here the master would intervene. - -"That will do, wild fowl! What is the matter with you? Are you mad?" - -For some inexplicable reason everything about that house was peculiar -and mirth-provoking. The way from the kitchen to the dining-room lay -through a small closet, the only one in the house, through which they -carried the samovar and the food into the dining-room. It was the -cause of merry witticisms and often of laughable misunderstandings. -I slept in the kitchen, between that door and the one leading to the -stairs. My head was hot from the heat of the cooking-stove, but the -draft from the stairs blew on my feet. When I retired to bed, I used to -take all the mats off the floor and wrap them round my feet. - -The large reception-room, with its two pier-glasses, its pictures in -gilt frames, its pair of card-tables, and its dozen Vienna chairs, -was a dreary, depressing place. The small drawing-room was simply -packed with a medley of soft furniture, with wedding presents, silver -articles, and a tea-service. It was adorned with three lamps, one -larger than the other two. - -In the dark, windowless bedroom, in addition to the wide bed, there -were trunks and cupboards from which came the odors of leaf tobacco and -Persian camomile. These three rooms were always unoccupied, while the -entire household squeezed itself into the little dining-room. Directly -after breakfast, at eight o'clock, the master and his brother moved the -table, and, laying sheets of white paper upon it, with cases, pencils, -and saucers containing Indian ink, set to work, one at each end of the -table. The table was shaky, and took up nearly the whole of the room, -and when the mistress and the nurse came out of the nursery they had to -brush past the corners. - -"Don't come fussing about here!" Victor would cry. - -"Vassia, please tell him not to shout at me," the mistress would say -to her husband in an offended tone. - -"All right; but don't come and shake the table," her husband would -reply peaceably. - -"I am stout, and the room is so small." - -"Well, we will go and work in the large drawingroom." - -But at that she cried indignantly: - -"Lord! why on earth should you work in the large drawing-room?" - -At the door of the closet appeared the angry face of Matrena Ivanovna, -flushed with the heat of the stove. She called out: - -"You see how it is, Vassia? She knows that you are working, and yet she -can't be satisfied with the other four rooms." - -Victor laughed maliciously, but the master said: "That will do!" - -And the daughter-in-law, with a venomously eloquent gesture, sank into -a chair and groaned: - -"I am dying! I am dying!" - -"Don't hinder my work, the devil take you!" roared the master, turning -pale with the exertion. "This is nothing better than a mad-house. Here -am I breaking my back to feed you. Oh, you wild fowl!" - -At first these quarrels used to alarm me, especially when the mistress, -seizing a table knife, rushed into the closet, and, shutting both the -doors, began to shriek like a mad thing. For a minute the house was -quiet, then the master, having tried to force the door, stooped down, -and called out to me: - -"Climb up on my back and unfasten the hook." - -I swiftly jumped on his back, and broke the pane of glass over the -door; but when I bent down, the mistress hit me over the head with the -blade of the knife. However, I succeeded in opening the door, and the -master, dragging his wife into the dining-room after a struggle, took -the knife away from her. As I sat in the kitchen rubbing my bruised -head, I soon came to the conclusion that I had suffered for nothing. -The knife was so blunt that it would hardly cut a piece of bread, and -it would certainly never have made an incision in any one's skin. -Besides, there had been no need for me to climb on the master's back. I -could have broken the glass by standing on a chair, and in any case it -would have been easier for a grown person to have unfastened the hook, -since his arms would have been longer. After that episode the quarrels -in the house ceased to alarm me. - -The brothers used to sing in the church choir; sometimes they used to -sing softly over their work. The elder would begin in a baritone: - - "The ring, which was the maiden's heart, - I cast from me into the sea." - -And the younger would join with his tenor: - - "And I with that very ring - Her earthly joy did ruin." - -The mistress would murmur from the nursery: - -"Have you gone out of your minds? Baby is asleep," or: "How can you, -Vassia, a married man, be singing about girls? Besides, the bell will -ring for vespers in a minute." - -"What's the matter now? We are only singing a church tune." - -But the mistress intimated that it was out of place to sing church -tunes here, there, and everywhere. Besides, and she pointed eloquently -to the little door. - -"We shall have to change our quarters, or the devil knows what will -become of us," said the master. - -He said just as often that he must get another table, and he said it -for three years in succession. - -When I listened to my employers talking about people, I was always -reminded of the boot-shop. They used to talk in the same way there. -It was evident to me that my present masters also thought themselves -better than any one in the town. They knew the rules of correct conduct -to the minutest detail, and, guided by these rules, which were not at -all clear to me, they judged others pitilessly and unsparingly. This -sitting in judgment aroused in me a ferocious resentment and anger -against the laws of my employers, and the breaking of those laws became -a source of pleasure to me. - -I had a lot of work to do. I fulfilled all the duties of a housemaid, -washed the kitchen over on Wednesday, cleaning the samovar and all the -copper vessels, and on Saturday cleaned the floor of the rest of the -house and both staircases. I had to chop and bring in the wood for the -stoves, wash up, prepare vegetables for cooking, and go marketing -with the mistress, carrying her basket of purchases after her, besides -running errands to the shops and to the chemist. - -My real mistress, grandmother's sister, a noisy, indomitable, -implacably fierce old woman, rose early at six o'clock, and after -washing herself in a hurry, knelt before the icon with only her chemise -on, and complained long to God about her life, her children, and her -daughter-in-law. - -"Lord," she would exclaim, with tears in her voice, pressing her -two first fingers and her thumbs against her forehead--"Lord, I ask -nothing, I want nothing; only give me rest and peace, Lord, by Thy -power!" - -Her sobs used to wake me up, and, half asleep, I used to peep from -under the blanket, and listen with terror to her passionate prayers. -The autumn morning looked dimly in at the kitchen window through panes -washed by the rain. On the floor in the cold twilight her gray figure -swayed from side to side; she waved her arms alarmingly. Her thin, -light hair fell from her small head upon her neck and shoulders from -under the swathing handkerchief, which kept slipping off. She would -replace it angrily with her left hand, muttering "Oh, bother you!" - -Striking her forehead with force, beating her breast and her shoulders, -she would wail: - -"And my daughter-in-law--punish her, O Lord, on my account! Make her -pay for all that she has made me suffer! And open the eyes of my -son--open his eyes and Victor's! Lord, help Victor; be merciful to -him!" - -Victorushka also slept in the kitchen, and, hearing the groans of his -mother, would cry in a sleepy voice: - -"Mamasha, you are funning down the young wife again. It is really -dreadful." - -"All right; go to sleep," the old woman would whisper guiltily. She -would be silent for a minute perhaps, and then she would begin to -murmur vindictively, "May their bones be broken, and may there be no -shelter for them on earth, Lord!" - -Even grandfather had never prayed so terribly. - -When she had said her prayers she used to wake me up. - -"Wake up! You will never get on if you do not get up early. Get the -samovar ready! Bring the wood in! Did n't you get the sticks ready over -night?" - -I tried to be quick in order to escape hearing the frothy whisper of -the old woman, but it was impossible to please her. She went about the -kitchen like a winter snow-storm, hissing: - -"Not so much noise, you little devil! Wake Victorushka up, and I will -give you something! Now run along to the shop!" - -On week-days I used to buy two pounds of wheaten bread and two copecks' -worth of rolls for the young mistress. When I brought it in, the women -would look at it suspiciously, and, weighing it in the palms of their -hands, would ask; - -"Was n't there a make-weight? No? Open your mouth!" And then they would -cry triumphantly: "He has gobbled up the make-weight; here are the -crumbs in his teeth! You see, Vassia?" - -I worked willingly enough. It pleased me to abolish dirt from the -house, to wash the floors, to clean the copper vessels, the warm-holes, -and the door-handles. More than once I heard the women remark about me -in their peaceful moments: - -"He is zealous." - -"And clean." - -"Only he is very impudent." - -"Well, Mother, who has educated him?" - -They both tried to educate me to respect them, but I regarded them -as half witted. I did not like them; I would not obey them, and I -used to answer them back. The young mistress must have noticed what a -bad effect their speeches had upon me, for she said with increasing -frequency: - -"You ought to remember from what a poor family you have been taken. I -gave your mother a silk cloak trimmed with jet." - -One day I said to her: - -"Do you want me to skin myself to pay for the cloak?" - -"Good gracious!" she cried in a tone of alarm, "this boy is capable of -setting fire to the place!" - -I was extremely surprised. Why did she say that? They both complained -to the master about me on this occasion, and he said to me sternly: - -"Now, my boy, you had better look out." But one day he said coolly to -his wife and his mother: "You are a nice pair! You ride the boy as if -he were a gelding! Any other boy would have run away long ago if you -had not worked him to death first." - -This made the women so angry that they wept, and his wife stamped her -foot, crying: - -"How can you speak like that before him, you longhaired fool? What can -I do with him after this? And in my state of health, too!" - -The mother cried sadly: - -"May God forgive you, Vassia Vassilich! Only, mark my words, you are -spoiling that boy." - -When they had gone away raging, the master said to me sternly: - -"You see, you little devil, what row's you cause! I shall take you back -to your grandfather, and you can be a rag-picker again." - -This insult was more than I could bear, and I said: "I had a better -life as a rag-picker than I have with you. You took me as a pupil, and -what have you taught me? To empty the dish-water!" - -He took me by the hair, but not roughly, and looked into my eyes, -saying in a tone of astonishment: - -"I see you are rebellious. That, my lad, won't suit me. N-o-o." - -I thought that I should be sent away for this, but a few days later he -came into the kitchen with a roll of thick paper, a pencil, a square, -and a ruler in his hands. - -"When you have finished cleaning the knives, draw this." - -On one sheet of paper was outlined the façade of a two-storied house, -with many windows and absurd decorations. - -"Here are compasses for you. Place dots on the paper where the ends -of the lines come, and then draw from point to point with a ruler, -lengthwise first--that will be horizontal--and then across--that will -be vertical. Now get on with it." - -I was delighted to have some clean work to do, but I gazed at the paper -and the instruments with reverent fear, for I understood nothing about -them. However, after washing my hands, I sat down to learn. I drew all -the horizontal lines on the sheet and compared them. They were quite -good, although three seemed superfluous. I drew the vertical lines, -and observed with astonishment that the face of the house was absurdly -disfigured. The windows had crossed over to the partition wall, and -one came out behind the wall and hung in mid-air. The front steps were -raised in the air to the height of the second floor; a cornice appeared -in the middle of the roof; and a dormer-window on the chimney. - -For a long time, hardly able to restrain my tears, I gazed at those -miracles of inaccuracy, trying to make out how they had occurred; and -not being able to arrive at any conclusion, I decided to rectify the -mistakes by the aid of fancy. I drew upon the façade of the house, upon -the cornices, and the edge of the roof, crows, doves, and sparrows, -and on the ground in front of the windows, people with crooked legs, -under umbrellas which did not quite hide their deformities. Then I drew -slanting lines across the whole, and took my work to my master. - -He raised his eyebrows, ruffled his hair, and gruffly inquired: - -"What is all this about?" - -"That is rain coming down," I explained. "When it rains, the house -looks crooked, because the rain itself is always crooked. The -birds--you see, these are all birds--are taking shelter. They always do -that when it rains. And these people are running home. There--that is a -lady who has fallen down, and that is a peddler with lemons to sell." - -"I am much obliged to you," said my master, and bending over the table -till his hair swept the paper, he burst out laughing as he cried: - -"Och! you deserve to be torn up and thrown away yourself, you wild -sparrow!" - -The mistress came in, and having looked at my work, said to her husband: - -"Beat him!" - -But the master said peaceably: - -"That's all right; I myself did not begin any better." - -Obliterating the spoiled house with a red pencil, he gave me some paper. - -"Try once more." - -The second copy came out better, except that a window appeared in -place of the front door. But I did not like to think that the house was -empty, so I filled it with all sorts of inmates. At the windows sat -ladies with fans in their hands, and cavaliers with cigarettes. One -of these, a non-smoker, was making a "long nose" at all the others. A -cabman stood on the steps, and near him lay a dog. - -"Why, you have been scribbling over it again!" the master exclaimed -angrily. - -I explained to him that a house without inhabitants was a dull place, -but he only scolded me. - -"To the devil with all this foolery! If you want to learn, learn! But -this is rubbish!" - -When at length I learned to make a copy of the façade which resembled -the original he was pleased. - -"There, you see what you can do! Now, if you choose, we shall soon get -on," and he gave me a lesson. - -"Make a plan of this house, showing the arrangement of the rooms, the -places of the doors and windows, and the rest. I shall not show you -how. You must do it by yourself." - -I went to the kitchen and debated. How was I to do it? But at this -point my studies in the art of drawing came to a standstill. - -The old mistress came to me and said spitefully: - -"So you want to draw?" - -Seizing me by the hair, she bumped my head on the table so hard that my -nose and lips were bruised. Then she darted upon and tore up the paper, -swept the instruments from the table, and with her hands on her hips -said triumphantly: - -"That was more than I could stand. Is an outsider to do the work while -his only brother, his own flesh and blood, goes elsewhere?" - -The master came running in, his wife rushed after him, and a wild scene -began. All three flew at one another, spitting and howling, and it -ended in the women weeping, and the master saying to me: - -"You will have to give up the idea for a time, and not learn. You can -see for yourself what comes of it!" - -I pitied him. He was so crushed, so defenseless, and quite deafened by -the shrieks of the women. I had realized before that the old woman did -not like my studying, for she used to hinder me purposely, so I always -asked her before I sat down to my drawing: - -"There is nothing for me to do?" - -She would answer frowningly: - -"When there is I will tell you," and in a few minutes she would send -me on some errand, or she would say: "How beautifully you cleaned the -staircase to-day! The corners are full of dirt and dust. Go and sweep -them!" - -I would go and look, but there was never any dust. "Do you dare to -argue with me?" she would cry. One day she upset _kvass_ all over -my drawings, and at another time she spilt oil from the image lamp -over them. She played tricks on me like a young girl, with childish -artfulness, and with childish ignorance trying to conceal her -artfulness. Never before or since have I met a person who was so -soon put into a temper and for such trivial reasons, nor any one so -passionately fond of complaining about every one and everything. -People, as a rule, are given to complaining, but she did it with a -peculiar delight, as if she were singing a song. - -Her love for her son was like an insanity. It amused me, but at the -same time it frightened me by what I can only describe as its furious -intensity. Sometimes, after her morning prayers, she would stand by the -stove, with her elbows resting on the mantel-board, and would whisper -hotly: - -"My luck! My idol! My little drop of hot blood, like a jewel! Light -as an angel! He sleeps. Sleep on, child! Clothe thy soul with happy -dreams! Dream to thyself a bride, beautiful above all others, a -princess and an heiress, the daughter of a merchant! As for your -enemies, may they perish as soon as they are born! And your friends, -may they live for a hundred years, and may the girls run after you like -ducks after the drake!" - -All this was inexpressibly ludicrous to me. Coarse, lazy Victor was -like a woodpecker, with a woodpecker's large, mottled nose, and the -same stubborn and dull nature. Sometimes his mother's whispers awoke -him, and he muttered sleepily: - -"Go to the devil, Mamasha! What do you mean by snorting right in my -face? You make life unbearable." - -Sometimes she stole away humbly, laughing: - -"Well, go to sleep! Go to sleep, saucy fellow!" - -But sometimes her legs seemed to give way, her feet came down heavily -on the edge of the stove, and she opened her mouth and panted loudly, -as if her tongue were on fire, gurgling out caustic words. - -"So-o? It's your mother you are sending to the devil. Ach! you! My -shame! Accursed heart-sore! The devil must have set himself in my heart -to ruin you from birth!" - -She uttered obscene words, words of the drunken streets. It was painful -to listen to her. She slept little, fitfully jumping down from the -stove sometimes several times in the night, and coming over to the -couch to wake me. - -"What is it?" - -"Be quiet!" she would whisper, crossing herself and looking at -something in the darkness. "O Lord, Elias the prophet, great martyr -Varvara, save me from sudden death!" - -She lighted the candle with a trembling hand. Her round, nosy face was -swollen tensely; her gray eyes, blinking alarmingly, gazed fixedly at -the surroundings, which looked different in the twilight. The kitchen, -which was large, but encumbered with cupboards and trunks, looked small -by night. There the moonbeams lived quietly; the flame of the lamp -burning before the icon quivered; the knives gleamed like icicles on -the walls; on the floor the black frying-pans looked like faces without -eyes. - -The old woman would clamber down cautiously from the stove, as if she -were stepping into the water from a river-bank, and, slithering along -with her bare feet, went into the corner, where over the wash-stand -hung a ewer that reminded me of a severed head. There was also a -pitcher of water standing there. Choking and panting, she drank the -water, and then looked out of the window through the pale-blue pattern -of hoar-frost on the panes. - -"Have mercy on me, O God! have mercy on me!" she prayed in a whisper. -Then putting out the candle, she fell on her knees, and whispered in an -aggrieved tone: "Who loves me, Lord? To whom am I necessary?" - -Climbing back on the stove, and opening the little door of the chimney, -she tried to feel if the flue-plate lay straight, soiling her hands -with soot, and fell asleep at that precise moment, just as if she had -been struck by an invisible hand. When I felt resentful toward her I -used to think what a pity it was that she had not married grandfather. -She would have led him a life! - -She often made me very miserable, but there were days when her puffy -face became sad, her eyes were suffused with tears, and she said very -touchingly: - -"Do you think that I have an easy time? I brought children into the -world, reared them, set them on their feet, and for what? To live with -them and be their general servant. Do you think that is sweet to me? -My son has brought a strange woman and new blood into the family. Is it -nice for me? Well?" - -"No, it is not," I said frankly. - -"Aha! there you are, you see!" And she began to talk shamelessly about -her daughter-in-law. "Once I went with her to the bath and saw her. Do -you think she has anything to flatter herself about? Can she be called -beautiful?" - -She always spoke objectionably about the relations of husband and wife. -At first her speeches aroused my disgust, but I soon accustomed myself -to listen to them with attention and with great interest, feeling that -there was something painfully true about them. - -"Woman is strength; she deceived God Himself. That is so," she hissed, -striking her hand on the table. "Through Eve are we all condemned to -hell. What do you think of that?" - -On the subject of woman's power she could talk endlessly, and it -always seemed as if she were trying to frighten some one in these -conversations. I particularly remembered that "Eve deceived God." - -Overlooking our yard was the wing of a large building, and of the eight -flats comprised in it, four were occupied by officers, and the fifth -by the regimental chaplain. The yard was always full of officers' -servants and orderlies, after whom ran laundresses, housemaids, and -cooks. Dramas and romances were being carried on in all the kitchens, -accompanied by tears, quarrels, and fights. The soldiers quarreled -among themselves and with the landlord's workmen; they used to beat -the women. - -The yard was a seething pot of what is called vice, immorality, the -wild, untamable appetites of healthy lads. This life, which brought -out all the cruel sensuality, the thoughtless tyranny, the obscene -boastfulness of the conqueror, was criticized in every detail by my -employers at dinner, tea, and supper. The old woman knew all the -stories of the yard, and told them with gusto, rejoicing in the -misfortunes of others. The younger woman listened to these tales in -silence, smiling with her swollen lips. Victor used to burst out -laughing, but the master would frown and say: - -"That will do, Mamasha!" - -"Good Lord! I mustn't speak now, I suppose!" the story-teller -complained; but Victor encouraged her. - -"Go on, Mother! What is there to hinder you? We are all your own -people, after all." - -I could never understand why one should talk shamelessly before one's -own people. - -The elder son bore himself toward his mother with contemptuous pity, -and avoided being alone with her, for if that happened, she would -surely overwhelm him with complaints against his wife, and would never -fail to ask him for money. He would hastily press into her hand a ruble -or so or several pieces of small silver. - -"It is not right, Mother; take the money. I do not grudge it to you, -but it is unjust." - -"But I want it for beggars, for candles when I go to church." - -"Now, where will you find beggars there? You will end by spoiling -Victor." - -"You don't love your brother. It is a great sin on your part." - -He would go out, waving her away. - -Victor's manner to his mother was coarse and derisive. He was very -greedy, and he was always hungry. On Sundays his mother used to bake -custards, and she always hid a few of them in a vessel under the couch -on which I slept. When Victor left the dinner-table he would get them -out and grumble: - -"Couldn't you have saved a few more, you old' fool?" - -"Make haste and eat them before any one sees you." - -"I will tell how you steal cakes for me behind their backs." - -Once I took out the vessel and ate two custards, for which Victor -nearly killed me. He disliked me as heartily as I disliked him. He used -to jeer at me and make me clean his boots about three times a day, and -when I slept in the loft, he used to push up the trapdoor and spit in -the crevice, trying to aim at my head. - -It may be that in imitation of his brother, who often said "wild fowl," -Victor also needed to use some catchwords, but his were all senseless -and particularly absurd. - -"Mamasha! Left wheel! where are my socks?" - -And he used to follow me about with stupid questions. - -"Alesha, answer me. Why do we write 'sinenki' and pronounce it -'phiniki'? Why do we say 'Kolokola' and not 'Okolokola'? Why do we say -'K'derevou' and not 'gdye plachou'?" - -I did not like the way any of them spoke, and having been educated in -the beautiful tongue which grandmother and grandfather spoke, I could -not understand at first how words that had no sort of connection came -to be coupled together, such as "terribly funny," "I am dying to eat," -"awfully happy." It seemed to me that what was funny could not be -terrible, that to be happy could not be awful, and that people did not -die for something to eat. - -"Can one say that?" I used to ask them; but they jeered at me: - -"I say, what a teacher! Do you want your ears plucked?" - -But to talk of "plucking" ears also appeared incorrect to me. One could -"pluck" grass and flowers and nuts, but not ears. They tried to prove -to me that ears could be plucked, but they did not convince me, and I -said triumphantly: - -"Anyhow, you have not plucked my ears." - -All around me I saw much cruel insolence, filthy shamelessness. It was -far worse here than in the Kunavin streets, which were full of "houses -of resort" and "street-walkers." Beneath the filth and brutality in -Kunavin there was a something which made itself felt, and which seemed -to explain it all--a strenuous, half-starved existence and hard work. -But here they were overfed and led easy lives, and the work went on -its way without fuss or worry. A corrosive, fretting weariness brooded -over all. - -My life was hard enough, anyhow, but I felt it still harder when -grandmother came to see me. She would appear from the black flight of -steps, enter the kitchen, cross herself before the icon, and then bow -low to her younger sister. That bow bent me down like a heavy weight, -and seemed to smother me. - -"Ah, Akulina, is it you?" was my mistress's cold and negligent greeting -to grandmother. - -I should not have recognized grandmother. Her lips modestly compressed, -her face changed out of knowledge, she set herself quietly on a bench -near the door, keeping silence like a guilty creature, except when she -answered her sister softly and submissively. This was torture to me, -and I used to say angrily: "What are you sitting there for?" - -Winking at me kindly, she replied: - -"You be quiet. You are not master here.". - -"He is always meddling in matters which do not concern him, however we -beat him or scold him," and the mistress was launched on her complaints. - -She often asked her sister spitefully: - -"Well, Akulina, so you are living like a beggar?" - -"That is a misfortune." - -"It is no misfortune where there is no shame." - -"They say that Christ also lived on charity." - -"Blockheads say so, and heretics, and you, old fool, listen to them! -Christ was no beggar, but the Son of God. He will come, it is said, in -glory, to judge the quick and dead--and dead, mind you. You will not -be able to hide yourself from Him, Matushka, although you may be burned -to ashes. He is punishing you and Vassili now for your pride, and on my -account, because I asked help from you when you were rich." - -"And I helped you as much as it was in my power to do," answered -grandmother, calmly, "and God will pay us back, you know." - -"It was little enough you did, little enough." - -Grandmother was bored and worried by her sister's untiring tongue. I -listened to her squeaky voice and wondered how grandmother could put up -with it. In that moment I did not love her. - -The young mistress came out of her room and nodded affably to -grandmother. - -"Come into the dining-room. It is all right; come along!" - -The master would receive grandmother joyfully. - -"Ah, Akulina, wisest of all, how are you? Is old man Kashirin still -alive?" - -And grandmother would give him her most cordial smile. - -"Are you still working your hardest?" - -"Yes; always working, like a convict." - -Grandmother conversed with him affectionately and well, but in the tone -of a senior. Sometimes he called my mother to mind. - -"Ye-es, Varvara Vassilievna. What a woman! A heroine, eh?" - -His wife turned to grandmother and put in: - -"Do you remember my giving her that cloak--black silk trimmed with jet?" - -"Of course I do." - -"It was quite a good one." - -"Ye-es," muttered the master, "a cloak, a palm; and life is a -trickster."[1] - -[Footnote 1: A play on the words "_tal'ma,_ cloak; _pal'ma,_ palm; -_shelma,_ trickster.] - -"What are you talking about?" asked his wife, suspiciously. - -"I? Oh, nothing in particular. Happy days and good people soon pass -away." - -"I don't know what is the matter with you," said my mistress, uneasily. - -Then grandmother was taken to see the new baby, and while I was -clearing away the dirty cups and saucers from the table the master said -to me: - -"She is a good old woman, that grandmother of yours." - -I was deeply grateful to him for those words, and when I was alone with -grandmother, I said to her, with a pain in my heart: - -"Why do you come here? Why? Can't you see how they--". - -"Ach, Olesha, I see everything," she replied, looking at me with a kind -smile on her wonderful face, and I felt conscience-stricken. Why, of -course she saw everything and knew everything, even what was going on -in my soul at that moment. Looking round carefully to see that no one -was coming, she embraced me, saying feelingly: - -"I would not come here if it were not for you. What are they to me? -As a matter of fact, grandfather is ill, and I am tired with looking -after him. I have not been able to do any work, so I have no money, and -my son Mikhail has turned Sascha out. I have him now to give food and -drink, too. They promised to give you six rubles a month, and I don't -suppose you have had a ruble from them, and you have been here nearly -half a year." Then she whispered in my ear: "They say they have to -lecture you, scold you, they say that you do not obey; but, dear heart, -stay with them. Be patient for two short years while you grow strong. -You will be patient, yes?" - -I promised. It was very difficult. That life oppressed me; it was a -threadbare, depressing existence. The only excitement was about food, -and I lived as in a dream. Sometimes I thought that I would have to run -away, but the accursed winter had set in. Snow-storms raged by night, -the wind rushed over the top of the house, and the stanchions cracked -with the pressure of the frost. Whither could I run away? - -* - -They would not let me go out, and in truth it was no weather for -walking. The short winter day, full of the bustle of housework, passed -with elusive swiftness. But they made me go to church, on Saturday to -vespers and on Sunday to high mass. - -I liked being in church. Standing somewhere in a corner where there -was more room and where it was darker, I loved to gaze from a distance -at the iconastasis, which looked as if it were swimming in the -candlelight flowing in rich, broad streams over the floor of the -reading-desk. The dark figures of the icons moved gently, the gold -embroidery on the vestments of the priests quivered joyfully, the -candle flames burned in the dark-blue atmosphere like golden bees, -and the heads of the women and children looked like flowers. All the -surroundings seemed to blend harmoniously with the singing the choir. -Everything seemed to be imbued with the weird spirit of legends. The -church seemed to oscillate like a cradle, rocking in pitch-black space. - -Sometimes I imagined that the church was sunk deep in a lake in which -it lived, concealed, a life peculiar to itself, quite different from -any other form of life. I have no doubt now that this idea had its -source in grandmother's stories of the town of Kitej, and I often found -myself dreamily swaying, keeping time, as it were, with the movement -around me. Lulled into somnolence by the singing of the choir, the -murmur of prayers, the breath of the congregation, I concentrated -myself upon the melodious, melancholy story: - - "They are closing upon us, the accursed Tatars. - Yes, these unclean beasts are closing in upon Kite; - The glorious; yea, at the holy hour of matins. - O Lord, our God! - Holy Mother of God! - Save Thy servants - To sing their morning praises, - To listen to the holy chants! - _Oi,_ let not the Tatars - Jeer at holy church; - Let them not put to shame - Our women and maidens; - Seize the little maids to be their toys, - And the old men to be put to a cruel death! - And the God of Sabaoth heard, - The Holy Mother heard, - These human sighs, - These Christians' plaints. - And He said, the Lord of Sabaoth, - To the Holy Angel Michael, - 'Go thou, Michael, - Make the earth shake under Kite;; - Let Kite; sink into the lake!' - And there to this day - The people do pray, - Never resting, and never weary - From matins to vespers, - Through all the holy offices, - Forever and evermore!" - -At that time my head was full of grandmother's poetry, as full as a -beehive of honey. I used even to think in verse. - -I did not pray in church. I felt ashamed to utter the angry prayers -and psalms of lamentation of grandfather's God in the presence of -grandmother's God, Who, I felt sure, could take no more pleasure in -them than I did myself, for the simple reason that they were all -printed in books, and of course He knew them all by heart, as did all -people of education. And this is why, when my heart was oppressed by -a gentle grief or irritated by the petty grievances of every day, -I tried to make up prayers for myself. And when I began to think -about my uncongenial work, the words seemed to form themselves into a -complaint without any effort on my part: - - "Lord, Lord! I am very miserable! - Oh, let me grow up quickly, - For this life I can't endure. - O Lord, forgive! - From my studies I get no benefit, - For that devil's puppet, Granny Matrena, - Howls at me like a wolf, - And my life is very bitter!" - -To this day I can remember some of these prayers. The workings of the -brain in childhood leave a very deep impression; often they influence -one's whole life. - -I liked being in church; I could rest there as I rested in the forests -and fields. My small heart, which was already familiar with grief and -soiled by the mire of a coarse life, laved itself in hazy, ardent -dreams. But I went to church only during the hard frosts, or when a -snow-storm swept wildly up the streets, when it seemed as if the very -sky were frozen, and the wind swept across it with a cloud of snow, and -the earth lay frozen under the snow-drifts as if it would never live -again. - -When the nights were milder I used to like to wander through the -streets of the town, creeping along by all the darkest corners. -Sometimes I seemed to walk as if I had wings, flying along like the -moon in the sky. My shadow crept in front of me, extinguishing the -sparkles of light in the snow, bobbing up and down comically. The night -watchman patrolled the streets, rattle in hand, clothed in a heavy -sheepskin, his dog at his side. Vague outlines of people came out of -yards and flitted along the streets, and the dog gave chase. Sometimes -I met gay young ladies with their escorts. I had an idea that they also -were playing truant from vespers. - -Sometimes through a lighted _fortochka_[1] there came a peculiar -smell, faint, unfamiliar, suggestive of a kind of life of which I was -ignorant. I used to stand under the windows and inhale it, trying to -guess what it was to live like the people in such a house lived. It was -the hour of vespers, and yet they were singing merrily, laughing, and -playing on a sort of guitar. The deep, stringy sound flowed through the -_fortochka._ - -[Footnote 1: A small square of glass in the double window which is set -on hinges and serves as a ventilator.] - -Of special interest to me were the one-storied, dwarfed houses at -the corners of the deserted streets, Tikhonovski and Martinovski. -I stood there on a moonlight night in mid-Lent and listened to the -weird sounds--it sounded as if some one were singing loudly with his -mouth closed--which floated out through the _fortochka_ together with -a warm steam. The words were indistinguishable, but the song seemed -to be familiar and intelligible to me; but when I listened to that, -I could not hear the stringy sound which languidly interrupted the -flow of song. I sat on the curbstone thinking what a wonderful melody -was being played on some sort of insupportable violin--insupportable -because it hurt me to listen to it. Sometimes they sang so loudly that -the whole house seemed to shake, and the panes of the windows rattled. -Like tears, drops fell from the roof, and from my eyes also. - -The night watchman had come close to me without my being aware of it, -and, pushing me off the curbstone, said: - -"What are you stuck here for?" - -"The music," I explained. - -"A likely tale! Be off now!" - -I ran quickly round the houses and returned to my place under the -window, but they were not playing now. From the _fortochka_ proceeded -sounds of revelry, and it was so unlike the sad music that I thought I -must be dreaming. I got into the habit of running to this house every -Saturday, but only once, and that was in the spring, did I hear the -violoncello again, and then it played without a break till midnight. -When I reached home I got a thrashing. - -These walks at night beneath the winter sky through the deserted -streets of the town enriched me greatly. I purposely chose streets -far removed from the center, where there were many lamps, and friends -of my master who might have recognized me. Then he would find out how -I played truant from vespers. No "drunkards," "street-walkers," or -policemen interfered with me in the more remote streets, and I could -see into the rooms of the lower floors if the windows were not frozen -over or curtained. - -Many and diverse were the pictures which I saw through those windows. I -saw people praying, kissing, quarreling, playing cards, talking busily -and soundlessly the while. It was a cheap panoramic show representing a -dumb, fish-like life. - -I saw in one basement room two women, a young one and another who was -her senior, seated at a table; opposite them sat a school-boy reading -to them. The younger woman listened with puckered brows, leaning -back in her chair; but the elder, who was thin, with luxuriant hair, -suddenly covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders heaved. The -school-boy threw down the book, and when the younger woman had sprung -to her feet and gone away, he fell on his knees before the woman with -the lovely hair and began to kiss her hands. - -Through another window I saw a large, bearded man with a woman in a red -blouse sitting on his knee. He was rocking her as if she had been a -baby, and was evidently singing something, opening his mouth wide and -rolling his eyes. The woman was shaking with laughter, throwing herself -backward and swinging her feet. He made her sit up straight again, and -again began to sing, and again she burst out laughing. I gazed at them -for a long time, and went away only when I realized that they meant to -keep up their merriment all night. - -There were many pictures of this kind which will always remain in -my memory, and often I was so attracted by them that I was late in -returning home. This aroused the suspicions of my employers, who asked -me: - -"What church did you go to? Who was the officiating priest?" - -They knew all the priests of the town; they knew what gospel would be -read, in fact, they knew everything. It was easy for them to catch me -in a lie. - -Both women worshiped the wrathful God of my grandfather--the God Who -demanded that we should approach Him in fear. His name was ever on -their lips; even in their quarrels they threatened one another: - -"Wait! God will punish you! He will plague you for this! Just wait!" - -On the Sunday in the first week of Lent, the old woman cooked some -butters and burned them all. Flushed with the heat of the stove, she -cried angrily: - -"The devil take you!" And suddenly, sniffing at the frying-pan, her -face grew dark, and she threw the utensil on the floor and moaned: -"Bless me, the pan has been used for flesh food! It is unclean! It did -not catch when I used it clean on Monday." - -Falling on her knees, she entreated with tears: "Lord God, Father, -forgive me, accursed that I am! For the sake of Thy sufferings and -passion forgive me! Do not punish an old fool, Lord!" - -The burned fritters were given to the dog, the pan was destroyed, but -the young wife began to reproach her mother-in-law in their quarrels. - -"You actually cooked fritters in Lent in a pan which had been used for -flesh-meat." - -They dragged their God into all the household affairs, into every -corner of their petty, insipid lives, and thus their wretched life -acquired outward significance and importance, as if every hour was -devoted to the service of a Higher Power. The dragging of God into all -this dull emptiness oppressed me, and I used to look involuntarily into -the corners, aware of being observed by invisible beings, and at night -I was wrapped in a cloud of fear. It came from the corner where the -ever-burning lamp flickered before the icon. - -On a level with this shelf was a large window with two sashes joined by -a stanchion. Fathomless, deep-blue space looked into the window, and if -one made a quick movement, everything became merged in this deep-blue -gulf, and floated out to the stars, into the deathly stillness, without -a sound, just as a stone sinks when it is thrown into the water. - -I do not remember how I cured myself of this terror, but I did cure -myself, and that soon. Grandmother's good God helped me, and I think it -was then that I realized the simple truth, namely, that no harm could -come to me; that I should not be punished without fault of my own; that -it was not the law of life that the innocent should suffer; and that I -was not responsible for the faults of others. - -I played truant from mass too, especially in the spring, the -irresistible force of which would not let me go to church. If I had a -seven-copeck piece given me for the collection, it was my destruction. -I bought hucklebones, played all the time mass was going on, and was -inevitably late home. And one day I was clever enough to lose all the -coins which had been given me for prayers for the dead and the blessed -bread, so that I had to take some one else's portion when the priest -came from the altar and handed it round. - -I was terribly fond of gambling, and it became a craze with me. I was -skilful enough, and strong, and I swiftly gained renown in games of -hucklebones, billiards, and skittles in the neighboring streets. - -During Lent I was ordered to prepare for communion, and I went to -confession to our neighbor Father Dorimedont Pokrovski. I regarded him -as a hard man, and had committed many sins against him personally. I -had thrown stones at the summer-house in his garden, and had quarreled -with his children. In fact he might call to mind, if he chose, many -similar acts annoying to him. This made me feel very uneasy, and when I -stood in the poor little church awaiting my turn to go to confession my -heart throbbed tremulously. - -But Father Dorimedont greeted me with a good-natured, grumbling -exclamation. - -"Ah, it is my neighbor! Well, kneel down! What sins have you committed?" - -He covered my head with a heavy velvet cloth. I inhaled the odor of -wax and incense. It was difficult to speak, and I felt reluctant to do -so. - -"Have you been obedient to your elders?" - -"No." - -"Say, 'I have sinned.'" - -To my own surprise I let fall: - -"I have stolen." - -"How was that? Where?" asked the priest, thoughtfully and without haste. - -"At the church of the three bishops, at Pokrov, and at Nikoli." - -"Well, that is in all the churches. That was wrong, my child; it was a -sin. Do you understand?" - -"I understand." - -"Say, 'I have sinned.' What did you steal for? Was it for something to -eat?" - -"Sometimes and sometimes it was because I had lost money at play, and, -as I had to take home some blessed bread, I stole it." - -Father Dorimedont whispered something indistinctly and wearily, and -then, after a few more questions, suddenly inquired sternly: - -"Have you been reading forbidden books?" - -Naturally I did not understand this question, and I asked: - -"What books do you mean?" - -"Forbidden books. Have you been reading any?" - -"No; not one." - -"Your sins are remitted. Stand up!" - -I glanced at his face in amazement. He looked thoughtful and kind. -I felt uneasy, conscience-stricken. In sending me to confession, my -employers had spoken about its terrors, impressing on me to confess -honestly even my slightest sins. - -"I have thrown stones at your summer-house," I deposed. - -The priest raised his head and, looking past me, said: - -"That was very wrong. Now go!" - -"And at your dog." - -"Next!" called out Father Dorimedont, still looking past me. - -I came away feeling deceived and offended. To be put to all that -anxiety about the terrors of confession, and to find, after all, that -it was not only far from terrible, but also uninteresting! The only -interesting thing about it was the question about the forbidden books, -of which I knew nothing. I remembered the school-boy reading to the -women in that basement room, and "Good Business," who also had many -black, thick books, with unintelligible illustrations. - -The next day they gave me fifteen copecks and sent me to communion. -Easter was late. The snow had been melted a long time, the streets -were dry, the roadways sent up a cloud of dust, and the day was -sunny and cheerful. Near the church was a group of workmen gambling -with hucklebones. I decided that there was plenty of time to go to -communion, and asked if I might join in. - -"Let me play." - -"The entrance-fee is one copeck," said a pock-marked, ruddy-faced man, -proudly. - -Not less proudly I replied: - -"I put three on the second pair to the left." - -"The stakes are on!" And the game began. - -I changed the fifteen-copeck piece and placed my three copecks on the -pair of hucklebones. Whoever hit that pair would receive that money, -but if he failed to hit them, he had to give me three copecks. I was -in luck. Two of them took aim and lost. I had won six copecks from -grown-up men. My spirits rose greatly. But one of the players remarked: - -"You had better look out for that youngster or he will be running away -with his winnings." - -This I regarded as an insult, and I said hotly: "Nine copecks on the -pair at the extreme left." However, this did not make much impression -on the players. Only one lad of my own age cried: - -"See how lucky he is, that little devil from the Zvezdrinki; I know -him." - -A thin workman who smelt like a furrier said maliciously: - -"He is a little devil, is he? Goo-oo-ood!" - -Taking a sudden aim, he coolly knocked over my stake, and, bending down -to me, said: - -"Will that make you howl?" - -"Three copecks on the pair to the right!" - -"I shall have another three," he said, but he lost. - -One could not put money on the same "horse" more than three times -running, so I chose other hucklebones and won four more copecks. I had -a heap of hucklebones. But when my turn came again, I placed money -three times, and lost it all. Simultaneously mass was finished, the -bell rang, and the people came out of church. - -"Are you married?" inquired the furrier, intending to seize me by the -hair; but I eluded him, and overtaking a lad in his Sunday clothes I -inquired politely: - -"Have you been to communion?" - -"Well, and suppose I have; what then?" he answered, looking at me -contemptuously. - -I asked him to tell me how people took communion, what words the priest -said, and what I ought to have done. - -The young fellow shook me roughly and roared out in a terrifying voice: - -"You have played the truant from communion, you heretic! Well, I am not -going to tell you anything. Let your father skin you for it!" - -I ran home expecting to be questioned, and certain that they would -discover that I had not been to communion; but after congratulating me, -the old woman asked only one question: - -"How much did you give to the clerk? Much?" - -"Five copecks," I answered, without turning a hair. - -"And three copecks for himself; that would leave you seven copecks, -animal!" - -It was springtime. Each succeeding spring was clothed differently, and -seemed brighter and pleasanter than the preceding one. The young grass -and the fresh green birch gave forth an intoxicating odor. I had an -uncontrollable desire to loiter in the fields and listen to the lark, -lying face downward on the warm earth; but I had to clean the winter -coats and help to put them away in the trunks, to cut up leaf tobacco, -and dust the furniture, and to occupy myself from morning till night -with duties which were to me both unpleasant and needless. - -In my free hours I had absolutely nothing to live for. In our wretched -street there was nothing, and beyond that I was not allowed to go. The -yard was full of cross, tired workmen, untidy cooks, and washerwomen, -and every evening I saw disgusting sights so offensive to me that I -wished that I was blind. - -I went up into the attic, taking some scissors and some colored paper -with me, and cut out some lacelike designs with which I ornamented the -rafters. It was, at any rate, something on which my sorrow could feed. -I longed with all my heart to go to some place where people slept less, -quarreled less, and did not so wearisomely beset God with complaints, -and did not so frequently offend people with their harsh judgments. - -On the Saturday after Easter they brought the miraculous icon of Our -Lady of Vlandimirski from the Oranski Monastery to the town. The image -became the guest of the town for half of the month of June, and blessed -all the dwellings of those who attended the church. It was brought to -my employers' house on a week-day. I was cleaning the copper things in -the kitchen when the young mistress cried out in a scared voice from -her room: - -"Open the front door. They are bringing the Oranski icon here." - -I rushed down, very dirty, and with greasy hands as rough as a brick -opened the door. A young man with a lamp in one hand and a thurible in -the other grumbled gently: - -"Are you all asleep? Give a hand here!" - -Two of the inhabitants carried the heavy icon-case up the narrow -staircase. I helped them by supporting the edge, of it with my dirty -hands and my shoulder. The monk came heavily behind me, chanting -unwillingly with his thick voice: - -"Holy Mother of God, pray for us!" - -I thought, with sorrowful conviction: - -"She is angry with me because I have touched her with dirty hands, and -she will cause my hands to wither." - -They placed the icon in the corner of the antichamber on two chairs, -which were covered with a clean sheet, and on each side of it stood two -monks, young and beautiful like angels. They had bright eyes, joyful -expressions, and lovely hair. - -Prayers were said. - -"O, Mother Renowned," the big priest chanted, and all the while he was -feeling the swollen lobe of his ear, which was hidden in his luxuriant -hair. - -"Holy Mother of God, pray for u-u-us!" sang the monks, wearily. - -I loved the Holy Virgin. According to grandmother's stories it was -she who sowed on the earth, for the consolation of the poor, all -the flowers, all the joys, every blessing and beauty. And when the -time came to salute her, without observing how the adults conducted -themselves toward her, I kissed the icon palpitatingly on the face, -the lips. Some one with powerful hands hurled me to the door. I do not -remember seeing the monks go away, carrying the icon, but I remember -very well how my employers sat on the floor around me and debated with -much fear and anxiety what would become of me. - -"We shall have to speak to the priest about him and have him taught," -said the master, who scolded me without rancor. - -"Ignoramus! How is it that you did not know that you should not kiss -the lips? You must have been taught that at school." - -For several days I waited, resigned, wondering what actually would -happen to me. I had touched the icon with dirty hands; I had saluted it -in a forbidden manner; I should not be allowed to go unpunished. - -But apparently the Mother of God forgave the involuntary sin which had -been prompted by sheer love, or else her punishment was so light that -I did not notice it among the frequent punishments meted out to me by -these good people. - -Sometimes, to annoy the old mistress, I said compunctiously: - -"But the Holy Virgin has evidently forgotten to punish me." - -"You wait," answered the old woman, maliciously. "We shall see." - -While I decorated the rafters of the attic with pink tea-wrappers, -silver paper, leaves from trees, and all kinds of things, I used to -sing anything that came into my head, setting the words to church -melodies, as the Kalmucks do on the roads. - - "I am sitting in the attic - With scissors in my hand, - Cutting paper--paper. - A dunce am I, and dull. - If I were a dog, - I could run where'er I wished; - But now they all cry out to me: - 'Sit down! Be silent, rogue, - While your skin is whole!'" - -The old woman came to look at my work, and burst out laughing. - -"You should decorate the kitchen like that." - -One day the master came up to the attic, looked at my performance, and -said, with a sigh: - -"You are an amusing fellow, Pyeshkov; the devil you are? I wonder what -you will become, a conjurer or what? One can't guess." And he gave me a -large Nikolaivski five-copeck piece. - -By means of a thin wire I fastened the coin in the most prominent -position among my works of art. In the course of a few days it -disappeared. I believe that the old woman took it. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -However, I did run away in the spring. One morning when I went to the -shop for bread the shopkeeper, continuing in my presence a quarrel with -his wife, struck her on the forehead with a weight. She ran into the -street, and there fell down. People began to gather round at once. The -woman was laid on a stretcher and carried to the hospital, and I ran -behind the cab which took her there without noticing where I was going -till I found myself on the banks of the Volga, with two _grevens_ in my -hand. - -The spring sun shone caressingly, the broad expanse of the Volga flowed -before me, the earth was full of sound and spacious, and I had been -living like a mouse in a trap. So I made up my mind that I would not -return to my master, nor would I go to grandmother at Kunavin; for as -I had not kept my word to her, I was ashamed to go and see her, and -grandfather would only gloat over my misfortunes. - -For two or three days I wandered by the river-side, being fed by -kind-hearted porters, and sleeping with them in their shelters. At -length one of them said to me: - -"It is no use for you to hang about here, my boy. I can see that. Go -over to the boat which is called _The Good._ They want a washer-up." - -I went. The tall, bearded steward in a black silk skullcap looked at -me through his glasses with his dim eyes, and said quietly: - -"Two rubles a month. Your passport?" - -I had no passport. The steward pondered and then said: - -"Bring your mother to see me." - -I rushed to grandmother. She approved the course I had taken, told -grandfather to go to the workman's court and get me a passport, and she -herself accompanied me to the boat. - -"Good!" said the steward, looking at us. "Come along." - -He then took me to the stern of the boat, where sat at a small table, -drinking tea and smoking a fat cigar at the same time, an enormous cook -in white overalls and a white cap. The steward pushed me toward him. - -"The washer-up." - -Then he went away, and the cook, snorting, and with his black mustache -bristling, called after him: - -"You engage any sort of devil as long as he is cheap." - -Angrily tossing his head of closely cropped hair, he opened his dark -eyes very wide, stretched himself, puffed, and cried shrilly: - -"And who may you be?" - -I did not like the appearance of this man at all. Although he was all -in white, he looked dirty. There was a sort of wool growing on his -fingers, and hairs stuck out of his great ears. - -"I am hungry," was my reply to him. - -He blinked, and suddenly his ferocious countenance was transformed by -a broad smile. His fat, brick-red cheeks widened to his very ears; he -displayed his large, equine teeth; his mustache drooped, and all at -once he had assumed the appearance of a kind, fat woman. - -Throwing the tea overboard out of his glass, he poured out a fresh lot -for me, and pushed a French roll and a large piece of sausage toward me. - -"Peg away! Are your parents living? Can you steal? You needn't be -afraid; they are all thieves here. You will soon learn." - -He talked as if he were barking. His enormous, blue, clean-shaven face -was covered all round the nose with red veins closely set together, -his swollen, purple nose hung over his mustache. His lower lip was -disfiguringly pendulous. In the corner of his mouth was stuck a smoking -cigarette. Apparently he had only just come from the bath. He smelt of -birch twigs, and a profuse sweat glistened on his temples and neck. - -After I had drunk my tea, he gave me a ruble-note. - -"Run along and buy yourself two aprons with this. Wait! I will buy them -for you myself." - -He set his cap straight and came with me, swaying ponderously, his feet -pattering on the deck like those of a bear. - -At night the moon shone brightly as it glided away from the boat to the -meadows on the left. The old red boat, with its streaked funnel, did -not hurry, and her propeller splashed unevenly in the silvery water. -The dark shore gently floated to meet her, casting its shadow on the -water, and beyond, the windows of the peasant huts gleamed charmingly. -They were singing in the village. The girls were merry-making and -singing--and when they sang "Aie Ludi," it sounded like "Alleluia." - -In the wake of the steamer a large barge, also red, was being towed by -a long rope. The deck was railed in like an iron cage, and in this cage -were convicts condemned to deportation or prison. On the prow of the -barge the bayonet of a sentry shone like a candle. It was quiet on the -barge itself. The moon bathed it in a rich light while behind the black -iron grating could be seen dimly gray patches. These were the convicts -looking out on the Volga. The water sobbed, now weeping, now laughing -timidly. It was as quiet here as in church, and there was the same -smell of oil. - -As I looked at the barge I remembered my early childhood; the journey -from Astrakhan to Nijni, the iron faces of mother and grandmother, the -person who had introduced me to this interesting, though hard, life, in -the world. And when I thought of grandmother, all that I found so bad -and repulsive in life seemed to leave me; everything was transformed -and became more interesting, pleasanter; people seemed to be better and -nicer altogether. - -The beauty of the nights moved me almost to tears, and especially the -barge, which looked so like a coffin, and so solitary on the broad -expanse of the flowing river in the pensive quietness of the warm -night. The uneven lines of the shore, now rising, now falling, stirred -the imagination pleasantly. I longed to be good, and to be of use to -others. - -The people on our steamboat had a peculiar stamp. They seemed to me to -be all alike, young and old, men and women. The boat traveled slowly. -The busy folk traveled by fast boat, and all the lazy rascals came on -our boat. They sang and ate, and soiled any amount of cups and plates, -knives and forks and spoons from morning to night. My work was to -wash up and clean the knives and forks, and I was busy with this work -from six in the morning till close on midnight. During the day, from -two till six o'clock, and in the evening, from ten till midnight, I -had less work to do; for at those times the passengers took a rest -from eating, and only drank, tea, beer, and vodka. All the buffet -attendants, my chiefs, were free at that time, too. The cook, Smouri, -drank tea at a table near the hatchway with his assistant, Jaakov -Ivanich; the kitchen-man, Maxim; and Sergei, the saloon steward, a -humpback with high cheek-bones, a face pitted with smallpox, and oily -eyes. Jaakov told all sorts of nasty stories, bursting out into sobbing -laughs and showing his long, discolored teeth. Sergei stretched his -frog-like mouth to his ears. Frowning Maxim was silent, gazing at them -with stern, colorless eyes. - -"Asiatic! Mordovan!" said the old cook now and again in his deep voice. - -I did not like these people. Fat, bald Jaakov Ivanich spoke of nothing -but women, and that always filthily. He had a vacant-looking face -covered with bluish pimples. On one cheek he had a mole with a tuft of -red hair growing from it. He used to pull out these hairs by twisting -them round a needle. Whenever an amiable, sprightly passenger of the -female sex appeared on the boat, he waited upon her in a peculiar, -timid manner like a beggar. He spoke to her sweetly and plaintively, -he licked her, as it were, with the swift movements of his tongue. For -some reason I used to think that such great fat creatures ought to be -hang-men. - -"One should know how to get round women," he would teach Sergei and -Maxim, who would listen to him much impressed, pouting their lips and -turning red. - -"Asiatics!" Smouri would roar in accents of disgust, and standing up -heavily, he gave the order, "Pyeshkov, march!" - -In his cabin he would hand me a little book bound in leather, and lie -down in his hammock by the wall of the ice-house. - -"Read!" he would say. - -I sat on a box and read conscientiously: - -"'The _umbra_ projected by the stars means that one is on good terms -with heaven and free from profanity and vice.'" - -Smouri, smoking a cigarette, puffed out the smoke and growled: - -"Camels! They wrote--" - -"'Baring the left bosom means innocence of heart.'" "Whose bosom?" - -"It does not say." - -"A woman's, it means. Eh, and a loose woman." - -He closed his eyes and lay with his arms behind his head. His -cigarette, hardly alight, stuck in the corner of his mouth. He set -it straight with his tongue, stretched so that something whistled in -his chest, and his enormous face was enveloped in a cloud of smoke. -Sometimes I thought he had fallen asleep and I left off reading to -examine the accursed book, which bored me to nauseation. But he said -hoarsely: "Go on reading!" - -"'The venerable one answered, "Look! My dear brother Suvyerin--"'" - -"Syevyeverin--" - -"It is written Suvyerin." - -"Well, that's witchcraft. There is some poetry at the end. Run on from -there." - -I ran on. - - "Profane ones, curious to know our business, - Never will your weak eyes spy it out, - Nor will you learn how the fairies sing." - -"Wait!" said Smouri. "That is not poetry. Give me the book." - -He angrily turned over the thick, blue leaves, and then put the book -under the mattress. - -"Get me another one." - -To my grief there were many books in his black trunk clamped with -iron. There were "Precepts of Peace," "Memories of the Artillery," -"Letters of Lord Sydanhall," "Concerning Noxious Insects and their -Extinction, with Advice against the Pest," books which seemed to have -no beginning and no end. Sometimes the cook set me to turn over all his -books and read out their titles to him, but as soon as I had begun he -called out angrily: - -"What is it all about? Why do you speak through your teeth? It is -impossible to understand you. What the devil has Gerbvase to do with -me? Gervase! _Umbra_ indeed!" - -Terrible words, incomprehensible names were wearily remembered, and -they tickled my tongue. I had an incessant desire to repeat them, -thinking that perhaps by pronouncing them I might discover their -meaning. And outside the port-hole the water unweariedly sang and -splashed. It would have been pleasant to go to the stern, where the -sailors and stokers were gathered together among the chests, where the -passengers played cards, sang songs, and told interesting stories. -It would have been pleasant to sit among them and listen to simple, -intelligible conversation, to gaze on the banks of the Kama, at the -fir-trees drawn out like brass wires, at the meadows, wherein small -lakes remained from the floods, looking like pieces of broken glass as -they reflected the sun. - -Our steamer was traveling at some distance from the shore, yet the -sound of invisible bells came to us, reminding us of the villages and -people. The barks of the fishermen floated on the waves like crusts -of bread. There, on the bank a little village appeared, here a crowd -of small boys bathed in the river, men in red blouses could be seen -passing along a narrow strip of sand. Seen from a distance, from the -river, it was a very pleasing sight; everything looked like tiny toys -of many colors. - -I felt a desire to call out some kind, tender words to the shore and -the barge. The latter interested me greatly; I could look at it for an -hour at a time as it dipped its blunt nose in the turbid water. The -boat dragged it along as if it were a pig: the tow-rope, slackening, -lashed the water, then once more drew taut and pulled the barge along -by the nose. I wanted very much to see the faces of those people who -were kept like wild animals in an iron cage. At Perm, where they were -landed, I made my way to the gangway, and past me came, in batches of -ten, gray people, trampling dully, rattling their fetters, bowed down -by their heavy knapsacks. There were all sorts, young and old, handsome -and ugly, all exactly like ordinary people except that they were -differently dressed and were disfiguringly close-shaven. No doubt these -were robbers, but grandmother had told me much that was good about -robbers. Smouri looked much more like a fierce robber than they as he -glanced loweringly at the barge and said loudly: - -"Save me, God, from such a fate!" - -Once I asked him: - -"Why do you say that? You cook, while those others kill and steal." - -"I don't cook; I only prepare. The women cook," he said, bursting out -laughing; but after thinking a moment he added: "The difference between -one person and another lies in stupidity. One man is clever, another -not so clever, and a third may be quite a fool. To become clever one -must read the right books--black magic and what not. One must read all -kinds of books and then one will find the right ones." - -He was continually impressing upon me: - -"Read! When you don't understand a book, read it again and again, as -many as seven times; and if you do not understand it then, read it a -dozen times." - -To every one on the boat, not excluding the taciturn steward, Smouri -spoke roughly. Sticking out his lower lip as if he were disgusted, -and, stroking his mustache, he pelted them with words as if they were -stones. To me he always showed kindness and interest, but there was -something about his interest which rather frightened me. Sometimes I -thought he was crazy, like grandmother's sister. At times he said to me: - -"Leave off reading." - -And he would lie for a long time with closed eyes, breathing -stertorously, his great stomach shaking. His hairy fingers, folded -corpse-like on his chest, moved, knitting invisible socks with -invisible needles. Suddenly he would begin growling: - -"Here are you! You have your intelligence. Go and live! Rut -intelligence is given sparingly, and not to all alike. If all were -on the same level intellectually--but they are not. One understands, -another does not, and there are some people who do not even wish to -understand!" - -Stumbling over his words, he related stories of his life as a soldier, -the drift of which I could never manage to catch. They seemed very -uninteresting to me. Besides, he did not tell them from the beginning, -but as he recollected them. - -"The commander of the regiment called this soldier to him and asked: -'What did the lieutenant say to you?' So he told everything just as it -had happened--a soldier is bound to tell the truth--but the lieutenant -looked at him as if he had been a wall, and then turned away, hanging -his head. Yes--" - -He became indignant, puffed out clouds of smoke, and growled: - -"How was I to know what I could say and what I ought not to say? Then -the lieutenant was condemned to be shut up in a fortress, and his -mother said--ah, my God! I am not learned in anything." - -It was hot. Everything seemed to be quivering and tinkling. The water -splashed against the iron walls of the cabin, and the wheel of the boat -rose and fell. The river flowed in a broad stream between the rows of -lights. In the distance could be seen the line of the meadowed bank. -The trees drooped. When one's hearing had become accustomed to all the -sounds, it seemed as if all was quiet, although the soldiers in the -stern of the boat howled dismally, "Se-e-even! Se-e-ven!" - -I had no desire to take part in anything. I wanted neither to listen -nor to work, but only to sit somewhere in the shadows, where there was -no greasy, hot smell of cooking; to sit and gaze, half asleep, at the -quiet, sluggish life as it slipped away on the water. - -"Read!" the cook commanded harshly. - -Even the head steward was afraid of him, and that mild man of few -words, the dining-room steward, who looked like a _sandre_, was -evidently afraid of Smouri too. - -_"Ei!_ You swine!" he would cry to this man. "Come here! Thief! -Asiatic!" - -The sailors and stokers were very respectful to him, and expectant -of favors. He gave them the meat from which soup had been made, and -inquired after their homes and their families. The oily and smoke-dried -White Russian stokers were counted the lowest people on the boat. They -were all called by one name, Yaks, and they were teased, "Like a Yak, I -amble along the shore." - -When Smouri heard this, he bristled up, his face became suffused with -blood, and he roared at the stokers: - -"Why do you allow them to laugh at you, you mugs? Throw some sauce in -their faces." - -Once the boatswain, a handsome, but ill-natured, man, said to him: - -"They are the same as Little Russians; they hold the same faith." - -The cook seized him by the collar and belt, lifted him up in the air, -and said, shaking him: - -"Shall I knock you to smithereens?" - -They quarreled often, these two. Sometimes it even came to a fight, but -Smouri was never beaten. He was possessed of superhuman strength, and -besides this, the captain's wife, with a masculine face and smooth hair -like a boy's, was on his side. - -He drank a terrible amount of vodka, but never became drunk. He began -to drink the first thing in the morning, consuming a whole bottle in -four gulps, and after that he sipped beer till close on evening. His -face gradually grew brown, his eyes widened. - -Sometimes in the evening he sat for hours in the hatchway, looking -large and white, without breaking his silence, and his eyes were -fixed gloomily on the distant horizon. At those times they were all -more afraid of him than ever, but I was sorry for him. Jaakov Ivanich -would come out from the kitchen, perspiring and glowing with the heat. -Scratching his bald skull and waving his arm, he would take cover or -say from a distance: - -"The fish has gone off." - -"Well, there is the salted cabbage." - -"But if they ask for fish-soup or boiled fish?" - -"It is ready. They can begin gobbling." - -Sometimes I plucked up courage to go to him. He looked at me heavily. - -"What do you want?" - -"Nothing." - -"Good.". - -On one of these occasions, however, I asked him: - -"Why is every one afraid of you? For you are good." - -Contrary to my expectations, he did not get angry. - -"I am only good to you." - -But he added distinctly, simply, and thoughtfully: - -"Yes, it is true that I am good to every one, only I do not show it. It -does not do to show that to people, or they will be all over you. They -will crawl over those who are kind as if they were mounds in a morass, -and trample on them. Go and get me some beer." - -Having drunk the bottle, he sucked his mustache and said: - -"If you were older, my bird, I could teach you a lot. I have something -to say to a man. I am no fool. But you must read books. In them you -will find all you need. They are not rubbish--books. Would you like -some beer?" - -"I don't care for it." - -"Good boy! And you do well not to drink it. Drunkenness is a -misfortune. Vodka is the devil's own business. If I were rich, I would -spur you on to study. An uninstructed man is an ox, fit for nothing but -the yoke or to serve as meat. All he can do is to wave his tail." - -The captain's wife gave him a volume of Gogol. I read "The Terrible -Vengeance" and was delighted with it, but Smouri cried angrily: - -"Rubbish! A fairy-tale! I know. There are other books." - -He took the book away from me, obtained another one from the captain's -wife, and ordered me harshly: - -"Read Tarass'--what do you call it? Find it! She says it is good; good -for whom? It may be good for her, but not for me, eh? She cuts her hair -short. It is a pity her ears were not cut off too." - -When _Tarass_ called upon _Ostap_ to fight, the cook laughed loudly. - -"That's the way! Of course! You have learning, but I have strength. -What do they say about it? Camels!" - -He listened with great attention, but often grumbled: - -"Rubbish! You could n't cut a man in half from his shoulders to his -haunches; it can't be done. And you can't thrust a pike upward; it -would break it. I have been a soldier myself." - -Andrei's treachery aroused his disgust. - -'There's a mean creature, eh? Like women! _Tfoo!_ - -But when _Tarass_ killed his son, the cook let his feet slip from the -hammock, bent himself double, and wept. The tears trickled down his -cheeks, splashed upon the deck as he breathed stertorously and muttered: - -"Oh, my God! my God!" - -And suddenly he shouted to me: - -"Go on reading, you bone of the devil!" - -Again he wept, with even more violence and bitterness, when I read how -_Ostap_ cried, out before his death, "Father, dost thou hear?" - -"Ruined utterly!" exclaimed Smouri. "Utterly! Is that the end? _Ekh!_ -What an accursed business! He was a man, that _Tar ass._ What do you -think? Yes, he was a man." - -He took the book out of my hands and looked at it with attention, -letting his tears fall on its binding. - -"It is a fine book, a regular treat." - -After this we read "Ivanhoe." Smouri was very pleased with Richard -Plantagenet. - -"That was a real king," he said impressively. - -To me the book had appeared dry. In fact, our tastes did not agree -at all. I had a great liking for "The Story of Thomas Jones," an old -translation of "The History of Tom Jones, Foundling," but Smouri -grumbled: - -"Rubbish! What do I care about your Thomas? Of what use is he to me? -There must be some other books." - -One day I told him that I knew that there were other books, forbidden -books. One could read them only at night, in underground rooms. He -opened his eyes wide. - -"Wha-a-t's that? Why do you tell me these lies?" - -"I am not telling lies. The priest asked me about them when I went to -confession, and, for that matter, I myself have seen people reading -them and crying over them." - -The cook looked sternly in my face and asked: - -"Who was crying?" - -"The lady who was listening, and the other actually ran away because -she was frightened." - -"You were asleep. You were dreaming," said Smouri, slowly covering his -eyes, and after a silence he muttered: "But of course there must be -something hidden from me somewhere. I am not so old as all that, and -with my character--well, however that may be--" - -He spoke to me eloquently for a whole hour. - -Imperceptibly I acquired the habit of reading, and took up a book with -pleasure. What I read therein was pleasantly different from life, which -was becoming harder and harder for me. - -Smouri also recreated himself by reading, and often took me from my -work. - -"Pyeshkov, come and read." - -"I have a lot of washing up to do." - -"Let Maxim wash up." - -He coarsely ordered the senior kitchen-helper to do my work, and this -man would break the glasses out of spite, while the chief steward told -me quietly: - -"I shall have you put off the boat." - -One day Maxim on purpose placed several glasses in a bowl of dirty -water and tea-leaves. I emptied the water overboard, and the glasses -went flying with it. - -"It is my fault," said Smouri to the head steward. "Put it down to my -account." - -The dining-room attendants began to look at me with lowering brows, and -they used to say: - -_"Ei!_ you bookworm! What are you paid for?" - -And they used to try and make as much work as they could for me, -soiling plates needlessly. I was sure that this would end badly for me, -and I was not mistaken. - -One evening, in a little shelter on the boat, there sat a red-faced -woman with a girl in a yellow coat and a new pink blouse. Both had been -drinking. The woman smiled, bowed to every one, and said on the note O, -like a church clerk: - -"Forgive me, my friends; I have had a little too much to drink. I have -been tried and acquitted, and I have been drinking for joy." - -The girl laughed, too, gazing at the other passengers with glazed eyes. -Pushing the woman away, she said: - -"But you, you plaguy creature--we know you." - -They had berths in the second-class cabin, opposite the cabin in which -Jaakov Ivanich and Sergei slept. - -The woman soon disappeared somewhere or other, and Sergei took her -place near the girl, greedily stretching his frog-like mouth. - -That night, when I had finished my work and had laid myself down to -sleep on the table, Sergei came to me, and seizing me by the arm, said: - -"Come along! We are going to marry you." - -He was drunk. I tried to tear my arm away from him, but he struck me. - -"Come along!" - -Maxim came running in, also drunk, and the two dragged me along the -deck to their cabin, past the sleeping passengers. But by the door of -the cabin stood Smouri, and in the doorway, holding on to the jamb, -Jaakov Ivanich. The girl stuck her elbow in his back, and cried in a -drunken voice: - -"Make way!" - -Smouri got me out of the hands of Sergei and Maxim, seized them by the -hair, and, knocking their heads together, moved away. They both fell -down. - -"Asiatic!" he said to Jaakov, slamming the door on him. Then he roared -as he pushed me along: - -"Get out of this!" - -I ran to the stern. The night was cloudy, the river black. In the wake -of the boat seethed two gray lines of water leading to the invisible -shore; between these two lines the barge dragged on its way. Now on -the right, now on the left appeared red patches of light, without -illuminating anything. They disappeared, hidden by the sudden winding -of the shore. After this it became still darker and more gruesome. - -The cook came and sat beside me, sighed deeply, and pulled at his -cigarette. - -"So they were taking you to that creature? _Ekh!_ Dirty beasts! I heard -them trying." - -"Did you take her away from them?" - -"Her?" He abused the girl coarsely, and continued in a sad tone: - -"It is all nastiness here. This boat is worse than a village. Have you -ever lived in a village?" - -"No." - -"In a village there is nothing but misery, especially in the winter." - -Throwing his cigarette overboard, he was silent. Then he spoke again. - -"You have fallen among a herd of swine, and I am sorry for you, my -little one. I am sorry for all of them, too. Another time I do not know -what I should have done. Gone on my knees and prayed. What are you -doing, sons of ----? What are you doing, blind creatures? Camels!" - -The steamer gave a long-drawn-out hoot, the tow-rope splashed in the -water, the lights of lanterns jumped up and down, showing where the -harbor was. Out of the darkness more lights appeared. - -"Pyani Bor [a certain pine forest]. Drunk," growled the cook. "And -there is a river called Pyanaia, and there was a captain called -Pyenkov, and a writer called Zapivokhin, and yet another captain called -Nepei-pivo.[1] I am going on shore." - -The coarse-grained women and girls of Kamska dragged logs of wood from -the shore in long trucks. Bending under their load-straps, with pliable -tread, they arrived in pairs at the stoker's hold, and, emptying their -sooty loads into the black hole, cried ringingly: - -"Logs!" - -[Footnote 1: Pyanaia means "drunk," and the other names mentioned come -from the same root. Nepei-pivo means, "Do not drink beer."] - -When they brought the wood the sailors would take hold of them by the -breasts or the legs. The women squealed, spat at the men, turned back, -and defended themselves against pinches and blows with their trucks. I -saw this a hundred times, on every voyage and at every land-stage where -they took in wood, and it was always the same thing. - -I felt as if I were old, as if I had lived on that boat for many years, -and knew what would happen in a week's time, in the autumn, in a year. - -It was daylight now. On a sandy promontory above the harbor stood out -a forest of fir-trees. On the hills and through the forests women went -laughing and singing. They looked like soldiers as they pushed their -long trucks. - -I wanted to weep. The tears seethed in my breast; my heart was -overflowing with them. It was painful. But it would be shameful to cry, -and I went to help the sailor Blyakhin wash the deck. - -Blyakhin was an insignificant-looking man. He had a withered, faded -look about him, and always stowed himself away in corners, whence his -small, bright eyes shone. - -"My proper surname is not Blyakhin, but----because, you see, my mother -was a loose woman. I have a sister, and she also. That happened to be -their destiny. Destiny, my brother, is an anchor for all of us. You -want to go in one direction, but wait!" - -And now, as he swabbed the deck, he said softly to me: - -"You see what a lot of harm women do! There it is? Damp wood smolders -for a long time and then bursts into flame. I don't care for that -sort of thing myself; it does not interest me. And if I had been -born a woman, I should have drowned myself in a black pool. I should -have been safe then with Holy Christ, and could do no one any harm. -But while one is here there is always the chance of kindling a fire. -Eunuchs are no fools, I assure you. They are clever people, they are -good at divination, they put aside all small things and serve God -alone--cleanly." - -The captain's wife passed us, holding her skirts high as she came -through the pools of water. Tall and well built, she had a simple, -bright face. I wanted to run after her and beg her from my heart: - -"Say something to me! Say something!" - -The boat drew slowly away from the pier. Blyakhin crossed himself and -said: - -"We are off!" - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -At Sarapulia, Maxim left the boat. He went away in silence, saying -farewell to no one, serious and calm. Behind him, laughing, came the -gay woman, and, following her, the girl, looking disheveled, with -swollen eyes. Sergei was on his knees a long time before the captain's -cabin, kissing the panel of the door, knocking his forehead against it, -and crying: - -"Forgive me! It was not my fault, but Maxim's." - -The sailors, the stewards, and even some of the passengers knew that he -was lying, yet they advised: - -"Come, forgive him!" - -But the captain drove him away, and even kicked him with such force -that he fell over. Notwithstanding, he forgave him, and Sergei at once -rushed on deck, carrying a tray of tea-things, looking with inquiring, -dog-like expression into the eyes of the passengers. - -In Maxim's place came a soldier from Viatski, a bony man, with a small -head and brownish red eyes. The assistant cook sent him first to kill -some fowls. He killed a pair, but let the rest escape on deck. The -passengers tried to catch them, but three hens flew overboard. Then the -soldier sat on some wood near the fowl-house, and cried bitterly. - -"What's the matter, you fool?" asked Smouri, angrily. "Fancy a soldier -crying!" - -"I belong to the Home Defense Corps," said the soldier in a low voice. - -That was his ruin. In half an hour every one on the boat was laughing -at him. They would come quite close to him, fix their eyes on his face, -and ask: - -"Is this the one?" - -And then they would go off into harsh, insulting, absurd laughter. - -At first the soldier did not see these people or hear their laughter; -he was drying his tears with the sleeve of his old shirt, exactly as if -he were hiding them up his sleeve. But soon his brown eyes flashed with -rage, and he said in the quick speech of Viatski: - -"What are you staring at me for? _Oi_, may you be torn to bits!" - -But this only amused the passengers the more, and they began to snap -their fingers at him, to pluck at his shirt, his apron, to play with -him as if he had been a goat, baiting him cruelly until dinner-time. At -dinner some one put a piece of squeezed lemon on the handle of a wooden -spoon, and tied it behind his back by the strings of his apron. As he -moved, the spoon waggled behind him, and every one laughed, but he was -in a fluster, like an entrapped mouse, ignorant of what had aroused -their laughter. - -Smouri sat behind him in silence. His face had become like a woman's. I -felt sorry for the soldier, and asked: - -"May I tell him about the spoon?" - -He nodded his head without speaking. - -When I explained to the soldier what they were laughing at, he hastily -seized the spoon, tore it off, threw it on the floor, crushed it with -his foot, and took hold of my hair with both hands. We began to fight, -to the great satisfaction of the passengers, who made a ring round us -at once. - -Smouri pushed the spectators aside, separated us, and, after boxing -my ear, seized the soldier by the ear. When the passengers saw how -the little man danced under the hand of the cook they roared with -excitement, whistled, stamped their feet, split their sides with -laughter. - -"Hurrah! Garrison! Butt the cook in the stomach!" - -This wild joy on the part of others made me feel that I wanted to throw -myself upon them and hit their dirty heads with a lump of wood. - -Smouri let the soldier go, and with his hands behind his back turned -upon the passengers like a wild boar, bristling, and showing his teeth -terrifyingly. - -"To your places! March! March!" - -The soldier threw himself upon me again, but Smouri seized him round -the body with one hand and carried him to the hatchway, where he began -to pump water on his head, turning his frail body about as if he were a -rag-doll. - -The sailors came running on the scene, with the boatswain and the -captain's mate. The passengers crowded about again. A head above the -others stood the head-steward, quiet, dumb, as always. - -The soldier, sitting on some wood near the kitchen door, took off his -boots and began to wring out his leggings, though they were not wet. -But the water dripped from his greasy hair, which again amused the -passengers. - -"All the same," said the soldier, "I am going to kill that boy." - -Taking me by the shoulder, Smouri said something to the captain's mate. -The sailors sent the passengers away, and when they had all dispersed, -he asked the soldier: - -"What is to be done with you?" - -The latter was silent, looking at me with wild eyes, and all the while -putting a strange restraint upon himself. - -"Be quiet, you devilskin!" said Smouri. - -"As you are not the piper, you can't call the tune," answered the -soldier. - -I saw that the cook was confused. His blown-out cheeks became flabby; -he spat, and went away, taking me with him. I walked after him, feeling -foolish, with backward glances at the soldier. But Smouri muttered in a -worried tone: - -"There's a wild creature for you! What? What do you think of him?" - -Sergei overtook us and said in a whisper: - -"He is going to kill himself." - -"Where is he?" cried Smouri, and he ran. - -The soldier was standing at the door of the steward's cabin with a -large knife in his hand. It was the knife which was used for cutting -off the heads of fowls and for cutting up sticks for the stoves. It was -blunt, and notched like a saw. In front of the cabin the passengers -were assembled, looking at the funny little man with the wet head. His -snub-nosed face shook like a jelly; his mouth hung wearily open; his -lips twitched. He roared: - -"Tormentors! Tormentors!" - -Jumping up on something, I looked over the heads of people into their -faces. They were smiling, giggling, and saying to one another: - -"Look! Look!" - -When he pushed his crumpled shirt down into his trousers with his -skinny, childish hand, a good-looking man near me said: - -"He is getting ready to die, and he takes the trouble to hitch up his -trousers." - -The passengers all laughed loudly. It was perfectly plain that they did -not think it probable that the soldier would really kill himself, nor -did I think so; but Smouri, after one glance at him, pushed the people -aside with his stomach, saying: - -"Get away, you fools!" - -He called them fools over and over again, and approaching one little -knot of people, said: - -"To your place, fool!" - -This was funny; but, however, it seemed to-be true, for they had all -been acting like one big fool from the first thing in the morning. -When he had driven the passengers-off, he approached the soldier, and, -holding out his hand, said: - -"Give me that knife." - -"I don't care," said the soldier, holding out the handle of the knife. - -The cook gave the knife to me, and pushed the soldier into the cabin. - -"Lie down and go to sleep. What is the matter with you, eh?" - -The soldier sat on a hammock in silence. - -"He shall bring you something to eat and some vodka. Do you drink -vodka?" - -"A little sometimes." - -"But, look you, don't you touch him. It was not he who made fun of you, -do you hear? I tell you that it was not he." - -"But why did they torment me?" asked the soldier, softly. - -Smouri answered gruffly after a pause: - -"How should I know?" - -As he came with me to the kitchen he muttered: - -"Well, they have fastened upon a poor wretch this time, and no mistake! -You see what he is? There you are! My lad, people can be sent out of -their minds; they can really. Stick to them like bugs, and the thing is -done. In fact, there are some people here like bugs--worse than bugs!" - -When I took bread, meat, and vodka to the soldier he was still sitting -in the hammock, rocking himself and crying softly, sobbing like a woman. - -I placed the plate on the table, saying: - -"Eat." - -"Shut the door." - -"That will make it dark." - -"Shut it, or they will come crawling in here." - -I went away. The sight of the soldier was unpleasant to me. He aroused -my commiseration and pity and made me feel uncomfortable. Times without -number grandmother had told me: - -"One must have pity on people. We are all unhappy. Life is hard for all -of us." - -"Did you take it to him?" asked the cook. "Well, how is he--the -soldier?" - -"I feel sorry for him." - -"Well, what's the matter now, eh?" - -"One can't help being sorry for people." - -Smouri took me by the arm, drew me to him, and said: - -"You do not pity in vain, but it is waste of time to chatter about it. -When you are not accustomed to mix jellies, you must teach yourself the -way." - -And pushing me away from him, he added gruffly: "This is no place for -you. Here, smoke." - -I was deeply distressed, quite crushed by the behavior of the -passengers. There was something inexpressibly insulting and oppressive -in the way they had worried the soldier and had laughed with glee when -Smouri had him by the ear. What pleasure could they find in such a -disgusting, pitiful affair? What was there to cause them to laugh so -joyfully? - -There they were again, sitting or lying under the awning, drinking, -making a buzz of talk, playing cards, conversing seriously and -sensibly, looking at the river, just as if they had never whistled and -hooted an hour ago. They were all as quiet and lazy as usual. From -morning to night they sauntered about the boat like pieces of fluff or -specks of dust in the sunbeams. In groups of ten they would stroll to -the hatchway, cross themselves, and leave the boat at the landing-stage -from which the same kind of people embarked as they landed, bending -their backs under the same heavy wallets and trunks and dressed in the -same fashion. - -This continual change of passengers did not alter the life on the boat -one bit. The new passengers spoke of the same things as those who -had left: the land, labor, God, women, and in the same words. "It is -ordained by the Lord God that we should suffer; all we can do is to be -patient. There is nothing else to be done. It is fate." - -It was depressing to hear such words, and they exasperated me. I -could not endure dirt, and I did not wish to endure evil, unjust, and -insulting behavior toward myself. I was sure that I did not deserve -such treatment. And the soldier had not deserved it, either. Perhaps he -had meant to be funny. - -Maxim, a serious, good-hearted fellow, had been dismissed from the -ship, and Sergei, a mean fellow, was left. And why did these people, -capable of goading a man almost to madness, always submit humbly to the -furious shouts of the sailors, and listen to their abuse without taking -offense? - -"What are you rolling about on the deck for?" cried the boatswain, -blinking his handsome, though malevolent, eyes. "If the boat heeled, it -would be the end of you, you devils." - -The "devils" went peaceably enough to the other deck, but they chased -them away from there, too, as if they had been sheep. - -"Ah, accursed ones!" - -On hot nights, under the iron awning, which had been made red-hot by -the sun during the day, it was suffocating. The passengers crawled over -the deck like beetles, and lay where they happened to fall. The sailors -awoke them at the landing-stages by prodding them with marlinespikes. - -"What are you sprawling in the way for? Go away to your proper place!" - -They would stand up, and move sleepily in the direction whither they -were pushed. The sailors were of the same class as themselves, only -they were dressed differently; but they ordered them about as if they -were policemen. The first thing which I noticed about these people was -that they were so quiet, so timid, so sadly meek. It was terrible when -through that crust of meekness burst the cruel, thoughtless spirit -of mischief, which had very little fun in it. It seemed to me that -they did not know where they were being taken; it was a matter of -indifference to them where they were landed from the boat. Wherever -they went on shore they stayed for a short time, and then they embarked -again on our boat or another, starting on a fresh journey. They all -seemed to have strayed, to have no relatives, as if all the earth were -strange to them. And every single one of them was senselessly cowardly. - -Once, shortly after midnight, something burst in the machinery and -exploded like a report from a cannon. The deck was at once enveloped -in a cloud of steam, which rose thickly from the engine-room and crept -through every crevice. An invisible person shouted deafeningly: - -"Gavrilov, some red lead--and some felt!" - -I slept near the engine-room, on the table on which the dishes were -washed up, and the explosion and shaking awoke me. It was quiet on -deck. The engine uttered a hot, steamy whisper; a hammer sounded -repeatedly. But in the course of a few minutes all the saloon -passengers howled, roared with one voice, and suddenly a distressing -scene was in progress. - -In a white fog which swiftly rarefied, women with their hair loose, -disheveled men with round eyes like fishes' eyes, rushed about, -trampling one another, carrying bundles, bags, boxes, stumbling, -falling, calling upon God and St. Nicholas, striking one another. It -was very terrible, but at the same time it was interesting. I ran after -them to see what they would do next. - -This was my first experience of a night alarm, yet I understood at -once that the passengers had made a mistake. The boat had not slowed -down. On the right hand, quite near, gleamed the life-belts. The night -was light, the full moon stood high. But the passengers rushed wildly -about the deck, and now those traveling in the other classes had come -up, too. Some one jumped overboard. He was followed by another, and yet -a third. Two peasants and a monk with heavy pieces of wood broke off a -bench which was screwed to the desk. A large cage of fowls was thrown -into the water from the stern. In the center of the deck, near the -steps leading to the captain's bridge, knelt a peasant who prostrated -himself before the people as they rushed past him, and howled like a -wolf: - -"I am Orthodox and a sinner--" - -"To the boats, you devils!" cried a fat gentleman who wore only -trousers and no shirt, and he beat his breast with his fist. - -The sailors came running, seized people by the collars, knocked their -heads together, and threw them on the deck. Smouri approached heavily, -wearing his overcoat over his night-clothes, addressed them all in a -resounding voice: - -"Yes, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. What are you making all -this fuss for? Has the steamer stopped, eh? Are we going slower? There -is the shore. Those fools who jumped into the water have caught the -life-belts, they have had to drag them out. There they are. Do you see? -Two boats--" - -He struck the third-class passengers on the head with his fist, and -they sank like sacks to the deck. - -The confusion was not yet hushed when a lady in a cloak flew to Smouri -with a tablespoon in her hand, and, flourishing it in his face, cried: - -"How dare you?" - -A wet gentleman, restraining her, sucked his mustache and said -irritably: - -"Let him alone, you imbecile!" - -Smouri, spreading out his hands, blinked with embarrassment, and asked -me: - -"What's the matter, eh? What does she want with me? This is nice, I -must say! Why, I never saw her before in my life!" - -And a peasant, with his nose bleeding, cried: - -"Human beings, you call them? Robbers!" - -Before the summer I had seen two panics on board the steamboat, and -on both occasions they were caused not by real danger, but by the -mere possibility of it. On a third occasion the passengers caught two -thieves, one of them was dressed like a foreigner, beat them for almost -an hour, unknown to the sailors, and when the latter took their victims -away from them, the passengers abused them. - -"Thieves shield thieves. That is plain. You are rogues yourselves, and -you sympathize with rogues." - -The thieves had been beaten into unconsciousness. They could not stand -when they were handed over to the police at the next stopping-place. - -There were many other occasions on which my feelings were aroused to -a high pitch, and I could not make up my mind as to whether people -were bad or good, peaceful or mischief-making, and why they were so -peculiarly cruel, lusting to work malevolence, and ashamed of being -kind. - -I asked the cook about this, but he enveloped his face in a cloud of -smoke, and said briefly in a tone of vexation: - -"What are you chattering about now? Human creatures are human -creatures. Some are clever, some are fools. Read, and don't talk so -much. In books, if they are the right sort, you will find all you want -to know." - -I wanted to please him by giving him a present of some books. - -In Kazan I bought, for five copecks, "The Story of how a Soldier Saved -Peter the Great"; but at that time the cook was drinking and was very -cross, so I began to read it myself. I was delighted with it, it was so -simple, easy to understand, interesting, and short. I felt that this -book would give great pleasure to my teacher; but when I took it to -him he silently crushed it in his hand into a round ball and threw it -overboard. - -"That for your book, you fool!" he said harshly. "I teach you like a -dog, and all you want to do is to gobble up idle tales, eh?" He stamped -and roared. "What kind of book is that? Do I read nonsense? Is what is -written there true? Well, speak!" - -"I don't know." - -"Well, I do know. If a man's head were cut off, his body would fall -down the staircase, and the other man would not have climbed on the -haystack. Soldiers are not fools. He would have set fire to the hay, -and that would have been the end. Do you understand?" - -"Yes." - -"That's right. I know all about Czar Peter, and that never happened to -him. Run along." - -I realized that the cook was right, but nevertheless the book pleased -me. I bought the "Story" again and read it a second time. To my -amazement, I discovered that it was really a bad book. This puzzled me, -and I began to regard the cook with even more respect, while he said to -me more frequently and more crossly than ever: - -"Oh, what a lot you need to be taught! This is no place for you." - -I also felt that it was no place for me. Sergei behaved disgustingly -to me, and several times I observed him stealing pieces of the -tea-service, and giving them to the passengers on the sly. I knew that -this was theft. Smouri had warned me more than once: - -"Take care. Do not give the attendants any of the cups and plates from -your table." - -This made life still harder for me, and I often longed to run away from -the boat into the forest; but Smouri held me back. He was more tender -to me every day, and the incessant movement on the boat held a terrible -fascination for me. I did not like it when we stayed in port, and I was -always expecting something to happen, and that we should sail from -Kama to Byela, as far as Viatka, and so up the Volga, and I should see -new places, towns, and people. But this did not happen. My life on the -steamer came to an abrupt end. One evening when we were going from -Kazan to Nijni the steward called me to him. I went. He shut the door -behind me, and said to Smouri, who sat grimly on a small stool: - -"Here he is." - -Smouri asked me roughly: - -"Have you been giving Serejka any of the dinner- and tea-services?" - -"He helps himself when I am not looking." - -The steward said softly: - -"He does not look, yet he knows." - -Smouri struck his knee with his fist; then he scratched his knee as he -said: - -"Wait; take time." - -I pondered. I looked at the steward. He looked at me, and there seemed -to be no eyes behind his glasses. - -He lived without making a noise. He went about softly, spoke in low -tones. Sometimes his faded beard and vacant eyes peeped out from some -corner and instantly vanished. Before going to bed he knelt for a long -time in the buffet before the icon with the ever-burning lamp. I could -see him through the chink of the door, looking like a black bundle; but -I had never succeeded in learning how the steward prayed, for he simply -knelt and looked at the icon, stroking his beard and sighing. - -After a silence Smouri asked: - -"Has Sergei ever given you any money?" - -"No." - -"Never?" - -"Never." - -"He does not tell lies," said Smouri to the steward, who answered at -once in his low voice: - -"It comes to the same thing, please--" - -"Come!" cried the cook to me, and he came to my table, and rapped my -crown lightly with his fingers. - -"Fool! And I am a fool, too. I ought to have looked after you." - -At Nijni the steward dismissed me. I received nearly eight rubles, the -first large money earned by me. When Smouri took farewell of me he said -roughly: - -"Well, here you are. Now keep your eyes open,--do you understand? You -mustn't go about with your mouth open." - -He put a tobacco-pouch of colored beads into my hand. - -"There you are! That is good handwork. My godchild made it for me. -Well, good-by. Read books; that is the best thing you can do." - -He took me under the arms, lifted me up, kissed me, and placed me -firmly on the jetty. I was sorry for him and for myself. I could hardly -keep from crying when I saw him returning to the steamer, pushing aside -the porters, looking so large, heavy, solitary. So many times since -then I have met people like him, kind, lonely, cut off from the lives -of other people. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -Grandfather and grandmother had again gone into the town. I went to -them, prepared to be angry and warlike; but my heart was heavy. Why had -they accounted me a thief? - -Grandmother greeted me tenderly, and at once went to prepare the -samovar. Grandfather asked as mockingly as usual: - -"Have you saved much money?" - -"What there is belongs to me," I answered, taking a seat by the window. -I triumphantly produced a box of cigarettes from my pocket and began to -smoke importantly. - -"So-o-o," said grandfather, looking at me fixedly--"so that sit! You -smoke the devil's poison? Isn't it rather soon?" - -"Why, I have even had a pouch given to me," I boasted. - -"A pouch?" squeaked grandfather. "What! Are you saying this to annoy -me?" - -He rushed upon me, with his thin, strong hands outstretched, his green -eyes flashing. I leaped up, and stuck my head into his stomach. The old -man sat on the floor, and for several oppressive moments looked at me, -amazedly blinking, his dark mouth open. Then he asked quietly: - -"You knock me down, your grandfather? The father of your mother?" - -"You have knocked me about enough in the past," I muttered, not -understanding that I had acted abominably. - -Withered and light, grandfather rose from the floor, sat beside me, -deftly snatched the cigarette from me, threw it out of the window, and -said in a tone of fear: - -"You mad fool! Don't you understand that God will punish you for this -for the rest of your life? Mother,"--he turned to grandmother,--"did -you see that? He knocked me down--he! Knocked me down! Ask him!" - -She did not wait to ask. She simply came over to me, seized me by the -hair, and beat me, saying: - -"And for that--take this--and this!" - -I was not hurt, but I felt deeply insulted, especially by grandfather's -laughter. He jumped on a chair, slapped his legs with his hands, and -croaked through his laughter: - -"Th-a-t's right! Tha-a-t's right!" - -I tore myself away, and ran out to the shed, where I lay in a corner -crushed, desolate, listening to the singing of the samovar. - -Then grandmother came to me, bent over me, and whispered hardly audibly: - -"You must forgive me, for I purposely did not hurt you. I could not -do otherwise than I did, for grandfather is an old man. He has to be -treated with care. He has fractured some of his small bones, and, -besides, sorrow has eaten into his heart. You must never do him any -harm. You are not a little boy now. You must remember that. You must, -Olesha! He is like a child, and nothing more." - -Her words laved me like warm water. That friendly whisper made me feel -ashamed of myself, and, light-hearted, I embraced her warmly. We kissed. - -"Go to him. Go along. It is all right, only don't smoke before him yet. -Give him time to get used to the idea." - -I went back to the room, glanced at grandfather, and could hardly keep -from laughing. He really was as pleased as a child. He was radiant, -twisting his feet, and running his paws through his red hair as he sat -by the table. - -"Well, goat, have you come to butt me again? Ach, you--brigand! Just -like your father! Freemason! You come back home, never cross yourself; -and start smoking at once. Ugh, you--Bonaparte! you copeck's worth of -goods!" - -I said nothing. He had exhausted his supply of words and was silent -from fatigue. But at tea he began to lecture me. - -"The fear of God is necessary to men; it is like a bridle to a horse. -We have no friend except God. Man is a cruel enemy to man." That men -were my enemies, I felt was the truth, but the rest did not interest me. - -"Now you will go back to Aunt Matrena, and in the spring you can go on -a steamboat again. Live with them during the winter. And you need not -tell them that you are leaving in the spring." - -"Now, why should he deceive people?" said grandmother, who had just -deceived grandfather by pretending to give me a beating. - -"It is impossible to live without deceit," declared grandfather. "Just -tell me now. Who lives without deceiving others?" - -In the evening, while grandfather was reading his office, grandmother -and I went out through the gate into the fields. The little cottage -with two windows in which grandfather lived was on the outskirts of the -town, at the back of Kanatni Street, where grandfather had once had his -own house. - -"So here we are again!" said grandmother, laughing. "The old man cannot -find a resting-place for his soul, but must be ever on the move. And he -does not even like it here; but I do." - -Before us stretched for about three versts fields of scanty herbage, -intersected by ditches, bounded by woods and the line of birches on -the Kazan highroad. From the ditches the twigs of bushes projected, -the rays of a cold sunset reddened them like blood. A soft evening -breeze shook the gray blades of grass. From a nearer pathway, also like -blades of grass, showed the dark form of town lads and girls. On the -right, in the distance, stood the red walls of the burial-ground of the -Old Believers. They called it "The Bugrovski Hermitage." On the left, -beyond the causeway, rose a dark group of trees; there was the Jewish -cemetery. All the surroundings were poor, and seemed to lie close to -the wounded earth. The little houses on the outskirts of the town -looked timidly with their windows on the dusty road. Along the road -wandered small, ill-fed fowl. Toward the Dyevichia Monastery went a -herd of lowing cows, from the camp came the sound of martial music. The -brass instruments brayed. - -A drunken man came along, ferociously holding out a harmonica. He -stumbled and muttered: - -"I am coming to thee--without fail." - -"Fool!" said grandmother, blinking in the red sunlight. "Where are you -going? Soon you will fall down and go to sleep, and you will be robbed -in your sleep. You will lose your harmonica, your consolation." - -I told her all about the life on the boat as I looked about me. After -what I had seen I found it dull here; I felt like a fish out of water. -Grandmother listened in silence and with attention, just as I liked to -listen to her. When I told her about Smouri she crossed herself and -said: - -"He is a good man, help him, Mother of God; he is good! Take care, you, -that you do not forget him! You should always remember what is good, -and what is bad simply forget." - -It was very difficult for me to tell her why they had dismissed me, but -I took courage and told her. It made no impression whatever on her. -She merely said calmly: - -"You are young yet; you don't know how to live." - -"That is what they all say to one another, 'You don't know how to -live'--peasants, sailors, Aunt Matrena to her son. But how does one -learn?" - -She compressed her lips and shook her head. - -"I don't know myself." - -"And yet you say the same as the others!" - -"And why should I not say it?" replied grandmother, calmly. "You must -not be offended. You are young; you are not expected to know. And who -does know, after all? Only rogues. Look at your grandfather. Clever and -well educated as he is, yet he does not know." - -"And you--have you managed your life well?" - -"I? Yes. And badly also; all ways." - -People sauntered past us, with their long shadows following them. The -dust rose like smoke under their feet, burying those shadows. Then the -evening sadness became more oppressive. The sound of grandfather's -grumbling voice flowed from the window: - -"Lord, in Thy wrath do not condemn me, nor in Thy rage punish me!" - -Grandmother said, smiling: - -"He has made God tired of him. Every evening he has his tale of woe, -and about what? He is old now, and he does not need anything; yet he is -always complaining and working himself into a frenzy about something. -I expect God laughs when He hears his voice in the evening. There's -Vassili Kashirin grumbling again!' Come and go to bed now." . . . . . . -. . - -I made up my mind to take up the occupation of catching singing-birds. -I thought it would be a good way of earning a living. I would catch -them, and grandmother would sell them. I bought a net, a hoop, and a -trap, and made a cage. At dawn I took my place in a hollow among the -bushes, while grandmother went in the woods with a basket and a bag to -find the last mushrooms, bulbs, and nuts. - -The tired September sun had only just risen. Its pale rays were now -extinguished by clouds, now fell like a silver veil upon me in the -causeway. At the bottom of the hollow it was still dusk, and a white -mist rose from it. Its clayey sides were dark and bare, and the other -side, which was more sloping, was covered with grass, thick bushes, and -yellow, brown, and scarlet leaves. A fresh wind raised them and swept -them along the ditch. - -On the ground, among the turnip-tops, the goldfinch uttered its cry. I -saw, among the ragged, gray grass, birds with red caps on their lively -heads. About me fluttered curious titmouses. They made a great noise -and fuss, comically blowing out their white cheeks, just like the young -men of Kunavin Street on a Sunday. Swift, clever, spiteful, they wanted -to know all and to touch everything, and they fell into the trap one -after the other. It was pitiful to see how they beat their wings, but -my business was strictly commerce. I changed the birds over into the -spare cage and hid them in a bag. In the dark they kept quiet. - -A flock of siskins settled on a hawthorn-bush. The bush was suffused -by sunlight. The siskins were glad of the sun and chirped more merrily -than ever. Their antics were like those of schoolboys. The thirsty, -tame, speckled magpie, late in setting out on his journey to a warmer -country, sat on the bending bough of a sweetbriar, cleaning his wing -feathers and insolently looking at his prey with his black eyes. The -lark soared on high, caught a bee, and, carefully depositing it on a -thorn, once more settled on the ground, with his thievish head alert. -Noiselessly flew the talking-bird,--the hawfinch,--the object of my -longing dreams, if only I could catch him. A bullfinch, driven from the -flock, was perched on an alder-tree. Red, important, like a general, he -chirped angrily, shaking his black beak. - -The higher the sun mounted, the more birds there were, and the more -gayly they sang. The hollow was full of the music of autumn. The -ceaseless rustle of the bushes in the wind, and the passionate songs -of the birds, could not drown that soft, sweetly melancholy noise. I -heard in it the farewell song of summer. It whispered to me words meant -for my ears alone, and of their own accord they formed themselves into -a song. At the same time my memory unconsciously recalled to my mind -pictures of the past. From somewhere above grandmother cried: - -"Where are you?" - -She sat on the edge of the pathway. She had spread out a handkerchief -on which she had laid bread, cucumber, turnips, and apples. In the -midst of this display a small, very beautiful cut-glass decanter stood. -It had a crystal stopper, the head of Napoleon, and in the goblet was a -measure of vodka, distilled from herbs. - -"How good it is, O Lord!" said grandmother, gratefully. - -"I have composed a song." - -"Yes? Well?" - -I repeated to her something which I thought was like poetry. - - "That winter draws near the signs are many; - Farewell to thee, my summer sun!" - -But she interrupted without hearing me out. - -"I know a song like that, only it is a better one." - -And she repeated in a singsong voice: - - "_Oi_, the summer sun has gone - To dark nights behind the distant woods! - _Ekh!_ I am left behind, a maiden, - Alone, without the joys of spring. - Every morn I wander round; - I trace the walks I took in May. - The bare fields unhappy look; - There it was I lost my youth. - _Oi,_ my friends, my kind friends, - Take my heart from my white breast, - Bury my heart in the snow!" - -My conceit as an author suffered not a little, but I was delighted with -this song, and very sorry for the girl. - -Grandmother said: - -"That is how grief sings. That was made up by a young girl, you know. -She went out walking all the springtime, and before the winter her dear -love had thrown her over, perhaps for another girl. She wept because -her heart was sore. You cannot speak well and truly on what you have -not experienced for yourself. You see what a good song she made up." - -When she sold a bird for the first time, for forty copecks, she was -very surprised. - -"Just look at that! I thought it was all nonsense, just a boy's -amusement; and it has turned out like this!" - -"You sold it too cheaply." - -"Yes; well?" - -On market-days she sold them for a ruble, and was more surprised than -ever. What a lot one might earn by just playing about! - -"And a woman spends whole days washing clothes or cleaning floors for a -quarter of a ruble, and here you just catch them! But it is n't a nice -thing to do, you know, to keep birds in a cage. Give it up, Olesha!" - -But bird-catching amused me greatly; I liked it. It gave me my -independence and inconvenienced no one but the birds. I provided myself -with good implements. Conversations with old bird-catchers taught me a -lot. I went alone nearly three versts to catch birds: to the forest of -Kstocski, on the banks of the Volga, where in the tall fir-trees lived -and bred crossbills, and most valuable to collectors, the Apollyon -titmouse, a long-tailed, white bird of rare beauty. - -Sometimes I started in the evening and stayed out all night, wandering -about on the Kasanski high-road, and sometimes in the autumn rains and -through deep mud. On my back I carried an oilskin bag in which were -cages, with food to entice the birds. In my hand was a solid cane of -walnut wood. It was cold and terrifying in the autumn darkness, very -terrifying. There stood by the side of the road old lightning-riven -birches; wet branches brushed across my head. On the left under the -hill, over the black Volga, floated rare lights on the masts of the -last boats and barges, looking as if they were in an unfathomable -abyss. The wheels splashed in the water, the sirens shrieked. - -From the hard ground rose the huts of the road-side villages. Angry, -hungry dogs ran in circles round my legs. The watchman collided with -me, and cried in terror: - -"Who is that? He whom the devils carry does not come out till night, -they say." - -I was very frightened lest my tackle should be taken from me, and I -used to take five-copeck pieces with me to give to the watchmen. The -watchman of the village of Thokinoi made friends with me, and was -always groaning over me. - -"What, out again? O you fearless, restless night-bird, eh?" - -His name was Niphront. He was small and gray, like a saint. He drew out -from his breast a turnip, an apple, a handful of peas, and placed them -in my hand, saying: - -"There you are, friend. There is a little present for you. Eat and -enjoy it." And conducting me to the bounds of the village, he said, -"Go, and God be with you!" - -I arrived at the forest before dawn, laid my traps, and spreading out -my coat, lay on the edge of the forest and waited for the day to come. -It was still. Everything was wrapped in the deep autumn sleep. Through -the gray mist the broad meadows under the hill were hardly visible. -They were cut in two by the Volga, across which they met and separated -again, melting away in the fog. In the distance, behind the forest on -the same side as the meadows, rose without hurry the bright sun. On -the black mane of the forest lights flashed out, and my heart began -to stir strangely, poignantly. Swifter and swifter the fog rose from -the meadows, growing silver in the rays of the sun, and, following it, -the bushes, trees, and hayricks rose from the ground. The meadows were -simply flooded with the sun's rays and flowed on each side, red-gold. -The sun just glanced at the still water by the bank, and it seemed as -if the whole river moved toward the sun as it rose higher and higher, -joyfully blessed and warmed the denuded, chilled earth, which gave -forth the sweet smell of autumn. The transparent air made the earth -look enormous, boundlessly wide. Everything seemed to be floating in -the distance, and to be luring one to the farthest ends of the world. -I saw the sunrise ten times during those months, and each time a new -world was born before my eyes, with a new beauty. - -I loved the sun so much that its very name delighted me. The sweet -sound of it was like a bell hidden in it. I loved to close my eyes and -place my face right in the way of its hot rays to catch it in my hands -when it came, like a sword, through the chinks of the fence or through -the branches. Grandfather had read over and over again "Prince Mikhail -Chemigovski and the Lady Theodora who would not Worship the Sun," and -my idea of these people was that they were black, like Gipsies, harsh, -malignant, and always had bad eyes, like poor Mordovans. When the sun -rose over the meadows I involuntarily smiled with joy. - -Over me murmured the forest of firs, shaking off the drops of dew with -its green paws. In the shadows and on the fern-leaves glistened, like -silver brocade, the rime of the morning frost. The reddening grass was -crushed by the rain; immovable stalks bowed their heads to the ground: -but when the sun's rays fell on them a slight stir was noticeable among -the herbs, as if, may be, it was the last effort of their lives. - -The birds awoke. Like gray balls of down, they fell from bough to -bough. Flaming crossbills pecked with their crooked beaks the knots -on the tallest firs. On the end of the fir-branches sang a white -Apollyon titmouse, waving its long, rudder-like tail, looking askance -suspiciously with its black, beady eyes at the net which I had spread. -And suddenly the whole forest, which a minute ago had been solemnly -pensive, was filled with the sound of a thousand bird-voices, with the -bustle of living beings, the purest on the earth. In their image, man, -the father of earthly beauty, created for his own consolation, elves, -cherubim, and seraphim, and all the ranks of angels. - -I was rather sorry to catch the little songsters, and had scruples -about squeezing them into cages. I would rather have merely looked at -them; but the hunter's passion and the desire to earn money drove away -my pity. - -The birds mocked me with their artfulness. The blue titmouse, after -a careful examination of the trap, understood her danger, and, -approaching sidewise without running any risk, helped herself to some -seed between the sticks of the trap. Titmouses are very clever, but -they are very curious, and that is their undoing. The proud bullfinches -are stupid, and flocks of them fall into the nets, like over-fed -citizens into a church. When they find themselves shut up, they are -very astonished, roll their eyes, and peck my fingers with their stout -beaks. The crossbill entered the trap calmly and seriously. This -grasping, ignorant bird, unlike all the others, used to sit for a long -time before the net, stretching out his long beak, and leaning on -his thick tail. He can run up the trunk of trees like the woodpecker, -always escorting the titmouse. About this smoke-gray singing-bird there -is something unpleasant. No one loves it. And it loves no one. Like the -magpie, it likes to steal and hide bright things. - -Before noon I had finished my catch, and went home through the forest. -If I had gone by the high-road past the villages, the boys and young -men would have taken my cages away from me and broken up my tackle. I -had already experienced that once. - -I arrived home in the evening tired and hungry, but I felt that I had -grown older, had learned something new, and had gained strength during -that day. This new strength gave me the power to listen calmly and -without resentment to grandfather's jeers; seeing which, grandfather -began to speak sensibly and seriously. - -"Give up this useless business! Give it up! No one ever got on through -birds. Such a thing has never happened that I know of. Go and find -another place, and let your intelligence grow up there. Man has not -been given life for nothing; he is God's grain, and he must produce an -ear of corn. Man is like a ruble; put out at good interest it produces -three rubles. You think life is easy to live? No, it is not all easy. -The world of men is like a dark night, but every man must make his own -light. To every person is given enough for his ten fingers to hold, but -every one wants to grasp by handfuls. One should be strong, but if one -is weak, one must be artful. He who has little strength is weak, and -he is neither in heaven nor in hell. Live as if you are with others, -but remember that you are alone. Whatever happens, never trust any -one. If you believe your own eyes, you will measure crookedly. Hold -your tongue. Neither town or house was built by the tongue, but rubles -are made by the ax. You are neither a fool nor a Kalmuck, to whom all -riches are like lice on sheep." - -He could talk like this all the evening, and I knew his words by heart. -The words pleased me, but I distrusted their meaning. From what he said -it was plain that two forces hindered man from doing as he wished, God -and other people. - -Seated at the window, grandmother wound the cotton for her lace. The -spindle hummed under her skilful hands. She listened for a long time to -grandfather's speech in silence, then she suddenly spoke. - -"It all depends upon whether the Mother of God smiles upon us." - -"What's that?" cried grandfather. "God! I have not forgotten about God. -I know all about God. You old fool, has God sown fools on the earth, -eh?" - -* - -In my opinion the happiest people on earth were Cossacks and soldiers. -Their lives were simple and gay. On fine mornings they appeared in the -hollow near our house quite early. Scattering over the bare fields like -white mushrooms, they began a complicated, interesting game. Agile -and strong in their white blouses, they ran about the field with -guns in their hands, disappeared in the hollow, and suddenly, at the -sound of the bugle, again spread themselves over the field with shouts -of "Hurrah!" accompanied by the ominous sounds of the drum. They ran -straight at our house with fixed bayonets, and they looked as if they -would knock it down and sweep it away, like a hayrick, in a minute. -I cried "Hurrah!" too, and ran with them, quite carried away. The -wicked rattle of the drum aroused in me a passionate desire to destroy -something, to break down the fence, to hit other boys. When they were -resting, the soldiers used to give me a treat by teaching me how to -signal and by showing me their heavy guns. Sometimes one of them would -stick his bayonet into my stomach and cry, with a pretense of anger: - -"Stick the cockroach!" - -The bayonet gleamed; it looked as if it were alive, and seemed to wind -about like a snake about to coil itself up. It was rather terrifying, -but more pleasant. - -The Mordovan drummer taught me to strike the drum with my fingers. At -first he used to take me by the wrist, and, moving them so that he hurt -me, would thrust the sticks into my crushed fingers. - -"Hit it--one, two-one-tw-o-o! Rum te--tum! Beat it--left--softly, -right--loudly, rum te--!" he shouted threateningly, opening wide his -bird-like eyes. - -I used to run about the field with the soldiers, almost to the end of -the drill, and after it was finished, I used to escort them across -the town to the barracks, listening to their loud songs, looking into -their kind faces, all as new as five-ruble pieces just coined. The -close-packed mass of happy men passing up the streets in one united -body aroused a feeling of friendliness in me, a desire to throw myself -in among them as into a river, to enter into them as into a forest. -These men were frightened of nothing; they could conquer anything; they -were capable of anything; they could do anything they liked; and they -were all simple and good. - -But one day during the time they were resting a young non-commissioned -officer gave me a fat cigarette. - -"Smoke this! I would not give them to any one. In fact I hardly like to -give you one, my dear boy, they are so good." - -I smoked it. He moved away a few steps, and suddenly a red flame -blinded me, burning my fingers, my nose, my eyebrows. A gray, acrid -smoke made me splutter and cough. Blinded, terrified, I stamped on the -ground, and the soldiers, who had formed a ring around me, laughed -loudly and heartily. I ran away home. Whistles and laughter followed -me; something cracked like a shepherd's whip. My burned fingers hurt -me, my face smarted, tears flowed from my eyes; but it was not the pain -which oppressed me, only a heavy, dull amazement. Why should this amuse -these good fellows? - -When I reached home I climbed up to the attic and sat there a long time -brooding over this inexplicable cruelty which stood so repulsively -in my path. I had a peculiarly clear and vivid memory of the little -soldier from Sarapulia standing before me, as large as life, and saying: - -"Well, do you understand?" - -Soon I had to go through something still more depressing and disgusting. - -I had begun to run about in the barracks of the Cossacks, which -stood near the Pecherski Square. The Cossacks seemed different from -the soldiers, not because they rode so skilfully oh horseback and -were dressed more beautifully, but because they spoke in a different -way, sang different songs, and danced beautifully. In the evening, -after they had seen to their horses, they used to gather in a ring -near the stables, and a little red-haired Cossack, shaking his tufts -of hair, sang softly in a high-pitched voice, like a trumpet. The -long-drawn-out, sad song flowed out upon the Don and the blue Dounia. -His eyes were closed, like the eyes of a linnet, which often sings till -it falls dead from the branch to the ground. The collar of his Cossack -shirt was undone. His collar-bone was visible, looking like a copper -band. In fact, he was altogether metallic, coppery. Swaying on his thin -legs, as if the earth under him were rocking, spreading out his hands, -he seemed sightless, but full of sound. He, as it were, ceased to be -a man, and became a brass instrument. Sometimes it seemed to me that -he was falling, that he would fall on his back to the ground, and die -like the linnet, because he put into the song all his soul and all his -strength. - -With their hands in their pockets or behind their broad backs, his -comrades stood round in a ring, sternly looking at his brassy face. -Beating time with their hands, softly spitting into space, they joined -in earnestly, softly, as if they were in the choir in church. All of -them, bearded and shaven, looked like icons, stern and set apart from -other people. The song was long, like a long street, and as level, as -broad and as wide. When I listened to him I forgot everything else, -whether it was day or night upon the earth, whether I was an old man or -a little boy. Everything else was forgotten. The voice of the singer -died away. The sighs of the horses were audible as they grieved for -their native steppes, and gently, but surely, the autumn night crept -up from the fields. My heart swelled and almost burst with a multitude -of extraordinary feelings, and a great, speechless love for human -creatures and the earth. - -The little copper-colored Cossack seemed to me to be no man, but -something much more significant--a legendary being, better and on a -higher plane than ordinary people. I could not talk to him. When he -asked me a question I smiled blissfully and remained shyly silent. I -was ready to follow him anywhere, silently and humbly, like a dog. All -I wanted was to see him often, and to hear him sing. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -When the snows came, grandfather once more took me to grandmother's -sister. - -"It will do you no harm," he said to me. - -I seemed to have had a wonderful lot of experience during the summer. -I felt that I had grown older and cleverer, and the dullness of my -master's house seemed worse than ever. They fell ill as often as -ever, upsetting their stomachs with offensive poisons, and giving one -another detailed accounts of the progress of their illnesses. The old -woman prayed to God in the same terrible and malignant way. The young -mistress had grown thin, but she moved about just as pompously and -slowly as when she was expecting her child. When she stitched at the -baby-clothes she always sang the same song softly to herself: - - "Spiria, Spiria, Spiridon, - Spiria, my little brother, - I will sit in the sledge myself - And Spiria on the foot-board." - -If any one went into the room she left off singing at once and cried -angrily: - -"What do you want?" - -I fully believed that she knew no other song but that. - -In the evenings they used to call me into the sitting-room, and the -order was given: - -"Now tell us how you lived on the boat." - -I sat on a chair near the door and spoke. I liked to recall a different -life from this which I was forced to lead against my will. I was so -interested that I forgot my audience, but not for long. - -The women, who had never been on a boat, asked me: - -"But it was very alarming, was n't it?" - -I did not understand. Why should it be alarming? - -"Why, the boat might go down any moment, and every one would be -drowned." - -The master burst out laughing, and I, although I knew that boats did -not sink just because there were deep places, could not convince the -women. The old woman was certain that the boat did not float on the -water, but went along on wheels on the bottom of the river, like a cart -on dry land. - -"If they are made of iron, how can they float? An ax will not float; no -fear!" - -"But a scoop does not sink in the water." - -"There's a comparison to make! A scoop is a small thing, nothing to -speak of." - -When I spoke of Smouri and his books they regarded me with contempt. -The old lady said that only fools and heretics wrote books. - -"What about the Psalms and King David?" - -"The Psalms are sacred writings, and King David prayed God to forgive -him for writing the Psalms." - -"Where does it say so?" - -"In the palms of my hands; that's where! When I get hold of you by the -neck you will learn where." - -She knew everything; she spoke on all subjects with conviction and -always savagely. - -"A Tatar died on the Pechorka, and his soul came out of his mouth as -black as tar." - -"Soul? Spirit?" I said, but she cried contemptuously: - -"Of a Tatar! Fool!" - -The young mistress was afraid of books, too. - -"It is very injurious to read books, and especially when you are -young," she said. "At home, at Grebeshka, there was a young girl of -good family who read and read, and the end of it was that she fell in -love with the deacon, and the deacon's wife so shamed her that it was -terrible to see. In the street, before everybody." - -Sometimes I used words out of Smouri's books, in one of which, one -without beginning or end, was written, "Strictly speaking, no one -person really invented powder; as is always the case, it appeared at -the end of a long series of minor observations and discoveries." I do -not know why I remembered these words so well. What I liked best of -all was the joining of two phrases, "strictly speaking, no one person -really invented powder." I was aware of force underlying them; but they -brought me sorrow, ludicrous sorrow. It happened thus. - -One day when my employers proposed that I should tell them about -something which had happened on the boat I answered: - -"I have n't anything left to tell, strictly speaking." This amazed -them. They cried: - -"What? What's that you said?" - -And all four began to laugh in a friendly fashion, repeating: - -"'Strictly speaking,'--ah, Lord!" - -Even the master said to me: - -"You have thought that out badly, old fellow." And for a long time -after that they used to call me: - -"Hi, 'strictly speaking,' come here and wipe up the floor after the -baby, strictly speaking." - -This stupid banter did not offend, but it greatly surprised, me. I -lived in a fog of stupefying grief, and I worked hard in order to -fight against it. I did not feel my inefficiencies when I was at work. -In the house were two young children. The nurses never pleased the -mistresses, and were continually being changed. I had to wait upon the -children, to wash baby-clothes every day, and every week I had to go to -the Jandarmski Fountain to rinse the linen. Here I was derided by the -washerwomen: - -"Why are you doing women's work?" - -Sometimes they worked me up to such a pitch that I slapped them with -the wet, twisted linen. They paid me back generously for this, but I -found them merry and interesting. - -The Jandarmski Fountain ran along the bottom of a deep causeway -and fell into the Oka. The causeway cut the town off from the field -which was called, from the name of an ancient god, Yarilo. On that -field, near Semika, the inhabitants of the town had made a promenade. -Grandmother had told me that in the days of her youth people still -believed in Yarilo and offered sacrifices to him. They took a wheel, -covered it with tarred tow, and let it roll down the hill with cries -and songs, watching to see if the burning wheel would roll as far as -the Oka. If it did, the god Yarilo had accepted the sacrifice; the -summer would be sunny and happy. - -The washerwomen were for the most part from Yarilo, bold, headstrong -women who had the life of the town at their finger-ends. It was very -interesting to hear their tales of the merchants, _chinovniks_, and -officers for whom they worked. To rinse the linen in winter in the -icy water of the river was work for a galley-slave. All the women had -their hands so frost-bitten that the skin was broken. Bending over -the stream, inclosed in a wooden trough, under an old penthouse full -of crevices, which was no protection against either wind or snow, the -women rinsed the linen. Their faces were flushed, pinched by the frost. -The frost burned their wet fingers; they could not bend them. Tears -trickled from their eyes, but they chatted all the time, telling one -another different stories, bearing themselves with a peculiar bravery -toward every one and everything. - -The best of all the stories were told by Natalia Kozlovski, a woman of -about thirty, fresh-faced, strong, with laughing eyes and a peculiarly -facile and sharp tongue. All her companions had a high regard for her; -she was consulted on all sorts of affairs, and much admired for her -skill in work, for the neatness of her attire, and because she had -been able to send her daughter to the high school. When, bending under -the weight of two baskets of wet linen, she came down the hill on the -slippery footpath, they greeted her gladly, and asked solicitously: - -"Well, and how is the daughter?" - -"Very well, thank you; she is learning well, thank God!" - -"Look at that now! She will be a lady." - -"That's why I am having her taught. Where do the ladies with the -painted faces come from? They all come from us, from the black earth. -And where else should they come from? He who has the most knowledge has -the longest arms and can take more, and the one who takes the most has -the honor and glory. God sends us into the world as stupid children and -expects to take us back as wise old people, which means that we must -learn!" - -When she spoke every one was silent, listening attentively to her -fluent, self-confident speech. They praised her to her face and behind -her back, amazed at her cleverness, her intellect; but no one tried to -imitate her. She had sewn brown leather from the leg of a boot, over -the sleeve of her bodice which saved her from the necessity of baring -her arms to the elbow, and prevented her sleeves from getting wet. -They all said what a good idea it was, but not one of them followed her -example. When I did so they laughed at me. - -"_Ekh_, you? Letting a woman teach you!" - -With reference to her daughter she said: - -"That is an important affair. There will be one more young lady in the -world. Is that a small thing? But of course she may not be able to -finish her studies; she may die. And it is not an easy life for those -who are students, you see. There was that daughter of the Bakhilovs. -She studied and studied, and even became a teacher herself. Once you -become a teacher, you know, you are settled for life." - -"Of course, if they marry, they can do without education; that is, if -they have something else to recommend them." - -"A woman's wit lies not in her head." - -It was strange and embarrassing to hear them speak about themselves -with such lack of reticence. I knew how sailors, soldiers, and tillers -of the soil spoke about women. I heard men always boasting among -themselves of their skill in deceiving women, of cunning in their -relations with them. I felt that their attitude toward "females" -was hostile, but generally there was a ring of something in these -boastings which led me to suppose that these stories were merely brag, -inventions, and not the truth. - -The washerwomen did not tell one another about their love adventures, -but in whatever they said about men I detected an undercurrent of -derision, of malice, and I thought it might be true that woman was -strength. - -"Even when they don't go about among their fellows and make friends, -they come to women, every one of them!" said Natalia one day, and an -old woman cried to her in a rheumy voice: - -"And to whom else should they go? Even from God monks and hermits come -to us." - -These conversations amid the weeping splash of the water, the slapping -of wet clothes on the ground, or against the dirty chinks, which -not even the snow could hide with its clean cover--these shameless, -malicious conversations about secret things, about that from which all -races and peoples have sprung, roused in me a timid disgust, forced -my thoughts and feelings to fix themselves on "the romances" which -surrounded and irritated me. For me the understanding of the "romances" -was closely intertwined with representations of obscure, immoral -stories. - -However, whether I was with the washerwomen, or in the kitchen with the -orderlies or in cellars where lived the field laborers, I found it much -more interesting than to be at home, where the stilted conversations -were always on the same lines, where the same things happened over -and over again, arousing nothing but a feeling of constraint and -embittered boredom. My employers dwelt within the magic circle of food, -illness, sleep, and the anxieties attendant on preparing for eating -and sleeping. They spoke of sin and of death, of which they were much -afraid. They rubbed against one another as grains of corn are rubbed -against the grindstone, which they expect every moment to crush them. -In my free time I used to go into the shed to chop wood, desiring to be -alone. But that rarely happened. The orderlies used to come and talk -about the news of the yard. - -Ermokhin and Sidorov came more often than the others. The former was -a long, bow-backed Kalougan, with thick, strong veins all over him, -a small head, and dull eyes. He was lazy and irritatingly stupid; he -moved slowly and clumsily, and when he saw a woman he blinked and bent -forward, just as if he were going to throw himself at her feet. All the -yard was amazed by his swift conquest of the cooks and the maids, and -envied him. They were all afraid of his bear-like strength. Sidorov, a -lean, bony native of Tula, was always sad, spoke softly, and loved to -gaze into dark corners. He would relate some incident in a low voice, -or sit in silence, looking into the darkest corner. - -"What are you looking at?" - -"I thought I saw a mouse running about. I love mice; they run to and -fro so quietly." - -I used to write letters home for these orderlies--love-letters. I liked -this, but it was pleasanter to write letters for Sidorov than for any -of the others. Every Saturday regularly he sent a letter to his sister -at Tula. - -He invited me into his kitchen, sat down beside me at the table, and, -rubbing his close-cropped hair hard, whispered in my ear: - -"Well, go on. Begin it as it ought to be begun. 'My dearest sister, may -you be in good health for many years'--you know how it ought to go. And -now write, 'I received the ruble; only you need not have sent it. But -I thank you. I want for nothing; we live well here.' As a matter of -fact, we do not live at all well, but like dogs; but there is no need -to write that. Write that we live well. She is little, only fourteen -years old. Why should she know? Now write by yourself, as you have been -taught." - -He pressed upon me from the left side, breathing into my ear hotly and -odorously, and whispered perseveringly: - -"Write 'if any one speaks tenderly to you, you are not to believe him. -He wants to deceive you, and ruin you.'" - -His face was flushed by his effort to keep back a cough. Tears stood in -his eyes. He leaned on the table and pushed against me. - -"You are hindering me!" - -"It is all right; go on! 'Above all, never believe gentlemen. They will -lead a girl wrong the first time they see her. They know exactly what -to say. And if you have saved any money, give it to the priest to keep -for you, if he is a good man. But the best thing, is to bury it in the -ground, and remember the spot.'" - -It was miserable work trying to listen to this whisper, which was -drowned by the squeaking of the tin ventilator in the _fortochka._ -I looked at the blackened front of the stove, at the china cupboard -covered with flies. The kitchen was certainly very dirty, overrun with -bugs, redolent with an acrid smell of burnt fat, kerosene, and smoke. -On the stove, among the sticks of wood, cockroaches crawled in and out. -A sense of melancholy stole over my heart. I could have cried with pity -for the soldier and his sister. Was it possible, was it right that -people should live like this? - -I wrote something, no longer listening to Sidorov's whisper. I wrote of -the misery and repulsiveness of life, and he said to me, sighing: - -"You have written a lot; thank you. Now she will know what she has to -be afraid of." - -"There is nothing for her to be afraid of," I said angrily, although I -was afraid of many things myself. - -The soldier laughed, and cleared his throat. - -"What an oddity you are! How is there nothing to be afraid of? What -about gentlemen, and God? Is n't that something?" - -When he received a letter from his sister he said restlessly: - -"Read it, please. Be quick!" - -And he made me read the badly scrawled, insultingly short, and -nonsensical letter three times. - -He was good and kind, but he behaved toward women like all the others; -that is, with the primitive coarseness of an animal. Willingly and -unwillingly, as I observed these affairs, which often went on under my -eyes, beginning and ending with striking and impure swiftness, I saw -Sidorov arouse in the breast of a woman a kind feeling of pity for him -in his soldier's life, then intoxicate her with tender lies, and then -tell Ermokhin of his conquest, frowning and spitting his disgust, just -as if he had been taking some bitter medicine. This made my heart ache, -and I angrily asked the soldiers why they all deceived women, lied to -them, and then, jeering among themselves at the woman they had treated -so, gave her away and often beat her. - -One of them laughed softly, and said: - -"It is not necessary for you to know anything about such things. It is -all very bad; it is sin. You are young; it is too early for you." - -But one day I obtained a more definite answer, which I have always -remembered. - -"Do you think that she does not know that I am deceiving her?" he -said, blinking and coughing. "She kno-o-ows. She wants to be deceived. -Everybody lies in such affairs; they are a disgrace to all concerned. -There is no love on either side; it is simply an amusement. It is a -dreadful disgrace. Wait, and you will know for yourself. It was for -that God drove them out of paradise, and from that all unhappiness has -come." - -He spoke so well, so sadly, and so penitently that he reconciled me a -little to these "romances." I began to have a more friendly feeling -toward him than towards Ermokhin, whom I hated, and seized every -occasion of mocking and teasing. I succeeded in this, and he often -pursued me across the yard with some evil design, which only his -clumsiness prevented him from executing. - -"It is forbidden," went on Sidorov, speaking of women. - -That it was forbidden I knew, but that it was the cause of human -unhappiness I did not believe. I saw that people were unhappy, but I -did not believe what he said, because I sometimes saw an extraordinary -expression in the eyes of people in love, and was aware of a peculiar -tenderness in those who loved. To witness this festival of the heart -was always pleasant to me. - -However, I remember that life seemed to me to grow more and more -tedious, cruel, fixed for ever in those forms of it which I saw from -day to day. I did not dream of anything better than that which passed -interminably before my eyes. - -But one day the soldiers told me a story which stirred me deeply. In -one of the flats lived a cutter-out, employed by the best tailor in -the town, a quiet, meek foreigner. He had a little, childless wife -who read books all day long. Over the noisy yard, amid houses full of -drunken people, these two lived, invisible and silent. They had no -visitors, and never went anywhere themselves except to the theater in -holiday-time. - -The husband was engaged from early morning until late at night. -The wife, who looked like an undersized girl, went to the library -twice a week. I often saw her walking with a limp, as if she were -slightly lame, as far as the dike, carrying books in a strap, like a -school-girl. She looked unaffected, pleasant, new, clean, with gloves -on her small hands. She had a face like a bird, with little quick eyes, -and everything about her was pretty, like a porcelain figure on a -mantel-shelf. The soldiers said that she had some ribs missing in her -left side, and that was what made her sway so curiously as she walked; -but I thought this very nice, and at once set her above all the other -ladies in the yard--the officers' wives. The latter, despite their loud -voices, their variegated attire, and _haut tournure_, had a soiled look -about them, as if they had been lying forgotten for a long time, in a -dark closet among other unneeded things. - -The little wife of the cutter-out was regarded in the yard as half -witted. It was said that she had lost her senses over books, and had -got into such a condition that she could not manage the housekeeping; -that her husband had to go to the market himself in search of -provisions, and order the dinner and supper of the cook, a great, huge -foreign female. She had only one red eye, which was always moist, and a -narrow pink crevice in place of the other. She was like her mistress, -they said of her. She did not know how to cook a dish of fried veal -and onions properly, and one day she ignominiously bought radishes, -thinking she was buying parsley. Just think what a dreadful thing that -was! - -All three were aliens in the building, as if they had fallen by -accident into one of the compartments of a large hen-house. They -reminded me of a titmouse which, taking refuge from the frost, flies -through the _fortochka_ into a stifling and dirty habitation of man. - -And then the orderlies told me how the officers had played an insulting -and wicked trick on the tailor's little wife. They took turns to write -her a letter every day, declaring their love for her, speaking of their -sufferings and of her beauty. She answered them, begging them to leave -her in peace, regretting that she had been the cause of unhappiness to -any one, and praying God that He would help them to give up loving her. -When any one of them received a letter like that, they used to read -it all together, and then make up another letter to her, signed by a -different person. - -When they told me this story, the orderlies laughed too, and abused the -lady. - -"She is a wretched fool, the crookback," said Ermokhin in a bass voice, -and Sidorov softly agreed with him. - -"Whatever a woman is, she likes being deceived. She knows all about it." - -I did not believe that the wife of the cutter-out knew that they -were laughing at her, and I resolved at once to tell her about it. -I watched for the cook to go down into the cellar, and I ran up the -dark staircase to the flat of the little woman, and slipped into the -kitchen. It was empty. I went on to the sitting-room. The tailor's -wife was sitting at the table. In one hand she held a heavy gold cup, -and in the other an open book. She was startled. Pressing the book to -her bosom, she cried in a low voice: - -"Who is that? Auguste! Who are you?" - -I began to speak quickly and confusedly, expecting every minute -that she would throw the book at me. She was sitting in a large, -raspberry-colored armchair, dressed in a pale-blue wrap with a fringe -at the hem and lace on the collar and sleeves over her shoulders was -spread her flaxen, wavy hair. She looked like an angel from the gates -of heaven. Leaning against the back of her chair, she looked at me with -round eyes, at first angrily, then in smiling surprise. - -When I had said what I wanted to say, and, losing my courage, turned to -the door, she cried after me: - -"Wait!" - -Placing the cup on the tray, throwing the book on the table, and -folding her hands, she said in a husky, grown-up voice: - -"What a funny boy you are! Come closer!" - -I approached very cautiously. She took me by the hand, and, stroking it -with her cold, small fingers, said: - -"Are you sure that no one sent you to tell me this? No? All right; I -see that you thought of it yourself." - -Letting my hand go, she closed her eyes, and said softly and drawingly: - -"So that is how the soldiers speak of me?" - -"Leave this place," I advised her earnestly. - -"Why?" - -"They will get the better of you." - -She laughed pleasantly. Then she asked: - -"Do you study? Are you fond of books?" - -"I have no time for reading." - -"If you were fond of it, you would find the time. Well, thank you." - -She held out a piece of silver money to me, grasped between her first -finger and her thumb. I felt ashamed to take that cold thing from her, -but I did not dare to refuse. As I went out, I laid it on the pedestal -of the stair-banisters. - -I took away with me a deep, new impression from that woman. It was as -if a new day had dawned for me. I lived for several days in a state of -joy, thinking of the spacious room and the tailor's wife sitting in -it, dressed in pale blue and looking like an angel. Everything around -her was unfamiliarly beautiful. A dull-gold carpet lay under her feet; -the winter day looked through the silver panes of the window, warming -itself in her presence. I wanted very much to look at her again. How -would it be if I went to her and asked her for a book? - -I acted upon this idea. Once more I saw her in the same place, also -with a book in her hand; but she had a red handkerchief tied round her -face, and her eyes were swollen. As she gave me a book with a black -binding, she indistinctly called out something. I went away feeling -sad, carrying the book, which smelt of creosote and aniseed drops. I -hid it in the attic, wrapping it up in a clean shirt and some paper; -for I was afraid that my employers might find it and spoil it. - -They used to take the "Neva" for the sake of the patterns and prizes, -but they never read it. When they had looked at the pictures, they put -it away in a cupboard in the bedroom, and at the end of the year they -had been bound, placing them under the bed, where already lay three -volumes of "The Review of Painting." When I washed the floor in the -bedroom dirty water flowed under these books. The master subscribed to -the "Russian Courier," but when he read it in the evening he grumbled -at it. - -"What the devil do they want to write all tins for? Such dull stuff!" - -On Saturday, when I was putting away the linen in the attic, I -remembered about the book. I undid it from its wrappings, and read -the first lines: "Houses are like people; they all have physiognomies -of their own." The truth of this surprised me, and I went on reading -farther, standing at the dormer-window until I was too cold to stay -longer. But in the evening, when they had gone to vespers, I carried -the book into the kitchen and buried myself in the yellow, worn pages, -which were like autumn leaves. Without effort, they carried me into -another life, with new names and new standards, showed me noble heroes, -gloomy villains, quite unlike the people with whom I had to do. This -was a novel by Xavier de Montepaine. It was long, like all his novels, -simply packed with people and incidents, describing an unfamiliar, -vehement life. Everything in this novel was wonderfully clear and -simple, as if a mellow light hidden between the lines illuminated -the good and evil. It helped one to love and hate, compelling one -to follow with intense interest the fates of the people, who seemed -so inextricably entangled. I was seized with sudden desires to help -this person, to hinder that, forgetting that this life, which had so -unexpectedly opened before me, had its existence only on paper. I -forgot everything else in the exciting struggles. I was swallowed up by -a feeling of joy on one page, and by a feeling of grief on the next. - -I read until I heard the bell ring in the front hall. I knew at once -who it was that was ringing, and why. - -The candle had almost burned out. The candlestick, which I had cleaned -only that morning, was covered with grease; the wick of the lamp, -which I ought to have looked after, had slipped out of its place, and -the flame had gone out. I rushed about the kitchen trying to hide -the traces of my crime. I slipped the book under the stove-hole, and -began to put the lamp to rights. The nurse came running out of the -sitting-room. - -"Are you deaf? They have rung!" - -I rushed to open the door. - -"Were you asleep?" asked the master roughly. His wife, mounting the -stairs heavily, complained that she had caught cold. The old lady -scolded me. In the kitchen she noticed the burned-out candle at once, -and began to ask me what I had been doing. I said nothing. I had only -just come down from the heights, and I was all to pieces with fright -lest they should find the book. She cried out that I would set the -house on fire. When the master and his wife came down to supper she -complained to them. - -"There, you see, he has let the candle gutter, he will set the house on -fire." - -While they were at supper the whole four of them lashed me with their -tongues, reminding me of all my crimes, wilful and involuntary, -threatening me with perdition; but I knew quite well that they were all -speaking not from ill-feeling, or for my good, but simply because they -were bored. And it was curious to observe how empty and foolish they -were compared with the people in books. - -When they had finished eating, they grew heavy, and went wearily to -bed. The old woman, after disturbing God with her angry complaints, -settled herself on the stove and was silent. Then I got up, took the -book from the stove-hole, and went to the window. It was a bright -night, and the moon looked straight into the window; but my sight -was not good enough to see the small print. My desire to read was -tormenting me. I took a brass saucepan from the shelf and reflected -the light of the moon from it on the book; but it became still more -difficult and blurred. Then I betook myself to the bench in the corner -where the icon was, and, standing upon it, began to read by the light -of the small lamp. But I was very tired, and dozed, sinking down on the -bench. I was awakened by the cries and blows of the old woman. She was -hitting me painfully over the shoulders with the book, which she held -in her hand. She was red with rage, furiously tossing her brown head, -barefooted, and wearing only her night-dress. Victor roared from the -loft: - -"Mamasha, don't make such a noise! You make life unbearable." - -"She has found the book. She will tear it up!" I thought. - -My trial took place at breakfast-time. The master asked me, sternly: - -"Where did you get that book?" - -The women exclaimed, interrupting each other. Victor sniffed -contemptuously at the pages and said: - -"Good gracious! what does it smell of?" - -Learning that the book belonged to the priest, they looked at it again, -surprised and indignant that the priest should read novels. However, -this seemed to calm them down a little, though the master gave me -another long lecture to the effect that reading was both injurious and -dangerous. - -"It is the people who read books who rob trains and even commit -murders." - -The mistress cried out, angry and terrified: - -"Have you gone out of your mind? What do you want to say such things to -him for?" - -I took Montepaine to the soldier and told him what had happened. -Sidorov took the book, opened a small trunk, took out a clean towel, -and, wrapping the novel in it, hid it in the trunk. - -"Don't you take any notice of them. Come and read here. I shan't tell -any one. And if you come when I am not here, you will find the key -hanging behind the icon. Open the trunk and read." - -The attitude my employers had taken with regard to the book raised it -to the height of an important and terrible secret in my mind. That -some "readers" had robbed a train or tried to murder some one did not -interest me, but I remembered the question the priest had asked me in -confession, the reading of the gymnasiast in the basement, the words -of Smouri, the "proper books," and grandfather's stories of the black -books of freemasonry. He had said: - -"In the time of the Emperor Alexander Pavlovich of blessed memory -the nobles took up the study of 'black books' and freemasonry. They -planned to hand over the whole Russian people to the Pope of Rome, if -you please! But General Arakcheev caught them in the act, and, without -regard to their position, sent them all to Siberia, into prison. And -there they were; exterminated like vermin." - -I remembered the _"umbra"_ of Smouri's book and "Gervase" and the -solemn, comical words: - - Profane ones who are curious to know our business, - Never shall your weak eyes spy it out! - -I felt that I was on the threshold of the discovery of some great -secret, and went about like a lunatic. I wanted to finish reading -the book, and was afraid that the soldier might lose it or spoil it -somehow. What should I say to the tailor's wife then? - -The old woman watched me sharply to see that I did not run to the -orderly's room, and taunted me: - -"Bookworm! Books! They teach dissoluteness. Look at that woman, the -bookish one. She can't even go to market herself. All she can do is -to carry on with the officers. She receives them in the daytime. I -kno-o-w." - -I wanted to cry, "That's not true. She does not carry on," but I was -afraid to defend the tailor's wife, for then the old woman might guess -that the book was hers. - -I had a desperately bad time of it for several days. I was distracted -and worried, and could not sleep for fear that Montepaine had come -to grief. Then one day the cook belonging to the tailor's household -stopped me in the yard and said: - -"You are to bring back that book." - -I chose the time after dinner, when my employers lay down to rest, -and appeared before the tailor's wife embarrassed and crushed. She -looked now as she had the first time, only she was dressed differently. -She wore a gray skirt and a black velvet blouse, with a turquoise -cross upon her bare neck. She looked like a hen bullfinch. When I -told her that I had not had time to read the book, and that I had -been forbidden to read, tears filled my eyes. They were caused by -mortification, and by joy at seeing this woman. - -"Foo! what stupid people!" she said, drawing her fine brows together. -"And your master has such an interesting face, too! Don't you fret -about it. I will write to him." - -"You must not! Don't write!" I begged her. "They will laugh at you and -abuse you. Don't you know that no one in the yard likes you, that they -all laugh at you, and say that you are a fool, and that some of your -ribs are missing?" - -As soon as I had blurted this out I knew that I had said something -unnecessary and insulting to her. She bit her lower lip, and clapped -her hands on her hips as if she were riding on horseback. I hung my -head in confusion and wished that I could sink into the earth; but she -sank into a chair and laughed merrily, saying over and over again: - -"Oh, how stupid! how stupid! Well, what is to be done?" she asked, -looking fixedly at me. Then she sighed and said, "You are a strange -boy, very strange." - -Glancing into the mirror beside her, I saw a face with high cheek-bones -and a short nose, a large bruise on the forehead, and hair, which had -not been cut for a long time, sticking out in all directions. That is -what she called "a strange boy." The strange boy was not in the least -like a fine porcelain figure. - -"You never took the money that I gave you. Why?" - -"I did not want it." - -She sighed. - -"Well, what is to be done? If they will allow you to read, come to me -and I will give you some books." - -On the mantel-shelf lay three books. The one which I had brought back -was the thickest. I looked at it sadly. The tailor's wife held out her -small, pink hand to me. - -"Well, good-by!" - -I touched her hand timidly, and went away quickly. - -It was certainly true what they said about her not knowing anything. -Fancy calling two _gravities_ money! It was just like a child. - -But it pleased me. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -I have sad and ludicrous reasons for remembering the burdensome -humiliations, insults, and alarms which my swiftly developed passion -for reading brought me. - -The books of the tailor's wife looked as if they were terribly -expensive, and as I was afraid that the old mistress might burn them in -the stove, I tried not to think of them, and began to buy small colored -books from the shop where I bought bread in the mornings. - -The shopkeeper was an ill-favored fellow with thick lips. He was given -to sweating, had a white, wizen face covered with scrofulous scars -and pimples, and his eyes were white. He had short, clumsy fingers on -puffy hands. His shop took the place of an evening club for grown-up -people; also for the thoughtless young girls living in the street. My -master's brother used to go there every evening to drink beer and play -cards. I was often sent to call him to supper, and more than once I -saw, in the small, stuffy room behind the shop, the capricious, rosy -wife of the shopkeeper sitting on the knee of Victorushka or some other -young fellow. Apparently this did not offend the shopkeeper; nor was he -offended when his sister, who helped him in the shop, warmly embraced -the drunken men, or soldiers, or, in fact any one who took her fancy. -The business done at the shop was small. He explained this by the fact -that it was a new business, although the shop had been open since -the autumn. He showed obscene pictures to his guests and customers, -allowing those who wished to copy the disgraceful verses beneath them. - -I read the foolish little books of Mischa Evstignev, paying so many -copecks for the loan of them. This was dear, and the books afforded me -no pleasure at all. "Guyak, or, the Unconquerable Truth," "Franzl, the -Venitian," "The Battle of the Russians with the Kabardines," or "The -Beautiful Mahomedan Girl, Who Died on the Grave of her Husband,"--all -that kind of literature did not interest me either, and often aroused a -bitter irritation. The books seemed to be laughing at me, as at a fool, -when they told in dull words such improbable stories. - -"The Marksmen," "Youri Miloslavski," "Monks' Secrets," "Yapacha, the -Tatar Freebooter," and such books I like better. I was the richer for -reading them; but what I liked better than all was the lives of the -saints. Here was something serious in which I could believe, and which -at times deeply stirred me. All the martyrs somehow reminded me of -"Good Business," and the female martyrs of grandmother, and the holy -men of grandfather in his best moments. - -I used to read in the shed when I went there to chop wood, or in the -attic, which was equally uncomfortable and cold. Sometimes, if a book -interested me or I had to read it quickly, I used to get up in the -night and light the candle; but the old mistress, noticing that my -candle had grown smaller during the night, began to measure the candles -with a piece of wood, which she hid away somewhere. In the morning, if -my candle was not as long as the measure, or if I, having found the -measure, had not broken it to the length of the burned candle, a wild -cry arose from the kitchen. Sometimes Victorushka called out loudly -from the loft: - -"Leave off that howling, Mamasha! You make life unbearable. Of course -he burns the candles, because he reads books. He gets them from the -shop. I know. Just look among his things in the attic." - -The old woman ran up to the attic, found a book, and burned it to ashes. - -This made me very angry, as you may imagine, but my love of reading -increased. I understood that if a saint had entered that household, -my employers would have set to work to teach him, tried to set him to -their own tune. They would have done this for something to do. If they -had left off judging people, scolding them, jeering at them, they would -have forgotten how to talk, would have been stricken with dumbness, and -would not have been themselves at all. When a man is aware of himself, -it must be through his relations with other people. My employers -could not behave themselves toward those about them otherwise than as -teachers, always ready to condemn; and if they had taught somebody to -live exactly as they lived themselves, to think and feel in the same -way, even then they would have condemned him for that very reason. -They were that sort of people. - -I continued to read on the sly. The old woman destroyed books several -times, and I suddenly found myself in debt to the shopkeeper for the -enormous amount of forty-seven copecks. He demanded the money, and -threatened to take it from my employers' money when they sent me to -make purchases. - -"What would happen then?" he asked jeeringly. - -To me he was unbearably repulsive. Apparently he felt this, and -tortured me with various threats from which he derived a peculiar -enjoyment. When I went into the shop his pimply face broadened, and he -would ask gently: - -"Have you brought your debt?" - -"No." - -This startled him. He frowned. - -"How is that? Am I supposed to give you things out of charity? I shall -have to get it from you by sending you to the reformatory." - -I had no way of getting the money, my wages were paid to grandfather. -I lost my presence of mind. What would happen to me? And in answer to -my entreaty that he wait for settlement of the debt, the shopkeeper -stretched out his oily, puffy hand, like a bladder, and said: - -"Kiss my hand and I will wait." - -But when I seized a weight from the counter and brandished it at him, -he ducked and cried: - -"What are you doing? What are you doing? I was only joking." - -Knowing well that he was not joking, I resolved to steal the money -to get rid of him. In the morning when I was brushing the master's -clothes, money jingled in his trousers' pockets, and sometimes it fell -out and rolled on the floor. Once some rolled into a crack in the -boards under the staircase. I forgot to say anything about this, and -remembered it only several days afterward when I found two _greven_ -between the boards. When I gave it back to the master his wife said to -him: - -"There, you see! You ought to count your money when you leave it in -your pockets." - -But my master, smiling at me, said: - -"He would not steal, I know." - -Now, having made up my mind to steal, I remembered these words and -his trusting smile, and felt how hard it would be for me to rob him. -Several times I took silver out of the pockets and counted it, but I -could not take it. For three days I tormented myself about this, and -suddenly the whole affair settled itself quickly and simply. The master -asked me unexpectedly: - -"What is the matter with you, Pyeshkov? You have become dull lately. -Are n't you well, or what?" - -I frankly told him all my troubles. He frowned. - -"Now you see what books lead to! From them, in some way or another, -trouble always comes." - -He gave me half a ruble and admonished me sternly: - -"Now look here; don't you go telling my wife or my mother, or there -will be a row." - -Then he smiled kindly and said: - -"You are very persevering, devil take you! Never mind; it is a good -thing. Anyhow, give up books. When the New Year comes, I will order a -good paper, and you can read that." - -And so in the evenings, from tea-time till supper-time, I read aloud -to my employers "The Moscow Gazette," the novels of Bashkov, Rokshnin, -Rudinskovski, and other literature, for the nourishment of people who -suffered from deadly dullness. - -I did not like reading aloud, for it hindered me from understanding -what I read. But my employers listened attentively, with a sort of -reverential eagerness, sighing, amazed at the villainy of the heroes, -and saying proudly to one another: - -"And we live so quietly, so peacefully; we know nothing of such things, -thank God!" - -They mixed up the incidents, ascribed the deeds of the famous brigand -Churkin to the post-boy Thoma Kruchin, and mixed the names. When I -corrected their mistakes they were surprised. - -"What a memory he has!" - -Occasionally the poems of Leonide Grave appeared in "The Moscow -Gazette." I was delighted with them. I copied several of them into a -note-book, but my employers said of the poet: - -"He is an old man, you know; so he writes poetry." "A drunkard or an -imbecile, it is all the same." - -I liked the poetry of Strujkin, and the Count Memento Mori, but both -the women said the verses were clumsy. - -"Only the Petrushki or actors talk in verse." - -It was a hard life for me on winter evenings, under the eyes of my -employers, in that close, small room. The dead night lay outside the -window, now and again the ice cracked. The others sat at the table -in silence, like frozen fish. A snow-storm would rattle the windows -and beat against the walls, howl down the chimney, and shake the -flue-plate. The children cried in the nursery. I wanted to sit by -myself in a dark corner and howl like a wolf. - -At one end of the table sat the women, knitting socks or sewing. At the -other sat Victorushka, stooping, copying plans unwillingly, and from -time to time calling out: - -"Don't shake the table! Goats, dogs, mice!" - -At the side, behind an enormous embroidery-frame, sat the master, -sewing a tablecloth in cross-stitch. Under his fingers appeared red -lobsters, blue fish, yellow butterflies, and red autumn leaves. He had -made the design himself, and had sat at the work for three winters. He -had grown very tired of it, and often said to me in the daytime, when I -had some spare time: - -"Come along, Pyeshkov; sit down to the tablecloth and do some of it!" - -I sat down, and began to work with the thick needle. I was sorry for -my master, and always did my best to help him. I had an idea that one -day he would give up drawing plans, sewing, and playing at cards, and -begin doing something quite different, something interesting, about -which he often thought, throwing his work aside and gazing at it -with fixed, amazed eyes, as at something unfamiliar to him. His hair -fell over his forehead and cheeks; he looked like a laybrother in a -monastery. - -"What are you thinking of?" his wife would ask him. - -"Nothing in particular," he would reply, returning to his work. - -I listened in dumb amazement. Fancy asking a man what he was thinking -of. It was a question which could not be answered. One's thoughts were -always sudden and many, about all that passed before one's eyes, of -what one saw yesterday or a year ago. It was all mixed up together, -elusive, constantly moving and changing. - -The serial in "The Moscow Gazette" was not enough to last the evening, -and I went on to read the journals which were put away under the bed in -the bedroom. The young mistress asked suspiciously: - -"What do you find to read there? It is all pictures." - -But under the bed, besides the "Painting Review," lay also "Flames," -and so we read "Count Tyatin-Baltiski," by Saliass. The master -took a great fancy to the eccentric hero of the story, and laughed -mercilessly, till the tears ran down his cheeks, at the melancholy -adventures of the hero, crying: - -"Really, that is most amusing!" - -"Piffle!" said the mistress to show her independence of mind. - -The literature under the bed did me a great service. Through it, I had -obtained the right to read the papers in the kitchen, and thus made it -possible to read at night. - -To my joy, the old woman went to sleep in the nursery for the nurse -had a drunken fit. Victorushka did not interfere with me. As soon as -the household was asleep, he dressed himself quietly, and disappeared -somewhere till morning. I was not allowed to have a light, for they -took the candles into the bedrooms, and I had no money to buy them for -myself; so I began to collect the tallow from the candlesticks on the -quiet, and put it in a sardine tin, into which I also poured lamp oil, -and, making a wick with some thread, was able to make a smoky light. -This I put on the stove for the night. - -When I turned the pages of the great volumes, the bright red tongue -of flame quivered agitatedly, the wick was drowned in the burning, -evil-smelling fat, and the smoke made my eyes smart. But all this -unpleasantness was swallowed up in the enjoyment with which I looked at -the illustrations and read the description of them. These illustrations -opened up before me a world which increased daily in breadth--a world -adorned with towns, just like the towns of story-land. They showed me -lofty hills and lovely seashores. Life developed wonderfully for me. -The earth became more fascinating, rich in people, abounding in towns -and all kinds of things. Now when I gazed into the distance beyond the -Volga, I knew that it was not space which lay beyond, but before that, -when I had looked, it used to make me feel oddly miserable. The meadows -lay flat, bushes grew in clumps, and where the meadows ended, rose the -indented black wall of the forest. Above the meadows it was dull, cold -blue. The earth seemed an empty, solitary place. And my heart also -was empty. A gentle sorrow nipped it; all desires had departed, and I -thought of nothing. All I wanted was to shut my eyes. This melancholy -emptiness promised me nothing, and sucked out of my heart all that -there was in it. - -The description of the illustrations told me in language which I could -understand about other countries, other peoples. It spoke of various -incidents of the past and present, but there was a lot which I did not -understand, and that worried me. Sometimes strange words stuck in my -brain, like "metaphysics," "chiliasm," "chartist." They were a source -of great anxiety to me, and seemed to grow into monsters obstructing my -vision. I thought that I should never understand anything. I did not -succeed in finding out the meaning of those words. In fact, they stood -like sentries on the threshold of all secret knowledge. Often whole -phrases stuck in my memory for a long time, like a splinter in my -finger, and hindered me from thinking of anything else. - -I remembered reading these strange verses: - - "All clad in steel, through the unpeopled land, - Silent and gloomy as the grave, - Rides the Czar of the Huns, Attilla. - Behind him comes a black mass of warriors, crying, - 'Where, then, is Rome; where is Rome the mighty?'" - -That Rome was a city, I knew; but who on earth were the Huns? I simply -had to find that out. Choosing a propitious moment, I asked my master. -"The Huns?" he cried in amazement. "The devil knows who they are. Some -trash, I expect." - -And shaking his head disapprovingly, he said: - -"That head of yours is full of nonsense. That is very bad, Pyeshkov." - -Bad or good, I wanted to know. - -I had an idea that the regimental chaplain, Soloviev, ought to know -who the Huns were, and when I caught him in the yard, I asked him. The -pale, sickly, always disagreeable man, with red eyes, no eyebrows, and -a yellow beard, pushing his black staff into the earth, said to me: - -"And what is that to do with you, eh?" - -Lieutenant Nesterov answered my question by a ferocious: - -"What-a-t?" - -Then I concluded that the right person to ask about the Huns was the -dispenser at the chemist's. He always looked at me kindly. He had a -clever face, and gold glasses on his large nose. - -"The Huns," said the dispenser, "were a nomad race, like the people of -Khirgiz. There are no more of these people now. They are all dead." - -I felt sad and vexed, not because the Huns were dead, but because the -meaning of the word that had worried me for so long was quite simple, -and was also of no use to me. - -But I was grateful to the Huns after my collision with the word ceased -to worry me so much, and thanks to Attilla, I made the acquaintance of -the dispenser Goldberg. - -This man knew the literal meaning of all words of wisdom. He had the -keys to all knowledge. Setting his glasses straight with two fingers, -he looked fixedly into my eyes and said, as if he were driving small -nails into my forehead: - -"Words, my dear boy, are like leaves on a tree. If we want to find out -why the leaves take one form instead of another, we must learn how -the tree grows. We must study books, my dear boy. Men are like a good -garden in which everything grows, both pleasant and profitable." - -I often had to run to the chemist's for soda-water and magnesia for the -adults of the family, who were continually suffering from heartburn, -and for castor-oil and purgatives for the children. - -The short instructions which the dispenser gave me instilled into -my mind a still deeper regard for books. They gradually became as -necessary to me as vodka to the drunkard. They showed me a new life, -a life of noble sentiments and strong desires which incite people to -deeds of heroism and crimes. I saw that the people about me were fitted -for neither heroism nor crime. They lived apart from everything that -I read about in books, and it was hard to imagine what they found -interesting in their lives. I had no desire to live such a life. I was -quite decided on that point. I would not. - -From the letterpress which accompanied the drawings I had learned that -in Prague, London, and Paris there are no open drains in the middle of -the city, or dirty gulleys choked with refuse. There were straight, -broad streets, and different kinds of houses and churches. There they -did not have a six-months-long winter, which shuts people up in their -houses, and no great fast, when only fermenting cabbage, pickled -mushrooms, oatmeal, and potatoes cooked in disgusting vegetable oil can -be eaten. During the great fast books are forbidden, and they took away -the "Review of Painting" from me, and that empty, meager life again -closed about me. Now that I could compare it with the life pictured in -books, it seemed more wretched and ugly than ever. When I could read -I felt well and strong; I worked well and quickly, and had an object -in life. The sooner I was finished, the more time I should have for -reading. Deprived of books, I became lazy, and drowsy, and became a -victim to forgetfulness, to which I had been a stranger before. - -I remember that even during those dull days something mysterious -happened. One evening when we had all gone to bed the bell of the -cathedral suddenly rang out, arousing every one in the house at once. -Half-dressed people rushed to the windows, asking one another: - -"Is it a fire? Is that the alarm-bell?" - -In the other flats one could hear the same bustle going on. Doors -slammed; some one ran across the yard with a horse ready saddled. The -old mistress shrieked that the cathedral had been robbed, but the -master stopped her. - -"Not so loud, Mamasha! Can't you hear that that is not an alarm-bell?" - -"Then the archbishop is dead." - -Victorushka climbed down from the loft, dressed himself, and muttered: - -"I know what has happened. I know!" - -The master sent me to the attic to see if the sky was red. I ran -up-stairs and climbed to the roof through the dormer-window. There was -no red light in the sky. The bell tolled slowly in the quiet frosty -air. The town lay sleepily on the earth. In the darkness invisible -people ran about, scrunching the snow under their feet. Sledges -squealed, and the bell wailed ominously. I returned to the sitting-room. - -"There is no red light in the sky." - -"Foo, you! Good gracious!" said the master, who had on his greatcoat -and cap. He pulled up his collar and began to put his feet into his -goloshes undecidedly. - -The mistress begged him: - -"Don't go out! Don't go out!" - -"Rubbish!" - -Victorushka, who was also dressed, teased them all. - -"I know what has happened." - -When the brothers went out into the street the women, having sent me to -get the samovar ready, rushed to the window. But the master rang the -street door-bell almost directly, ran up the steps silently, shut the -door, and said thickly: - -"The Czar has been murdered!" - -"How murdered?" exclaimed the old lady. - -"He has been murdered. An officer told me so. What will happen now?" - -Victorushka rang, and as he unwillingly took off his coat said angrily: - -"And I thought it was war!" - -Then they all sat down to drink tea, and talked together calmly, but in -low voices and cautiously. The streets were quiet now, the bells had -given up tolling. For two days they whispered together mysteriously, -and went to and fro. People also came to see them, and related some -event in detail. I tried hard to understand what had happened, but they -hid the newspapers from me. When I asked Sidorov why they had killed -the Czar he answered, softly: - -"It is forbidden to speak of it." - -But all this soon wore away. The old empty life was resumed, and I soon -had a very unpleasant experience. - -On one of those Sundays when the household had gone to early mass I -set the samovar ready and turned my attention to tidying the rooms. -While I was so occupied the eldest child rushed into the kitchen, -removed the tap from the samovar, and set himself under the table to -play with it. There was a lot of charcoal in the pipe of the samovar, -and when the water had all trickled away from it, it came unsoldered. -While I was doing the other rooms, I heard an unusual noise. Going into -the kitchen, I saw with horror that the samovar was all blue. It was -shaking, as if it wanted to jump from the floor. The broken handle of -the tap was drooping miserably, the lid was all on one side, the pewter -was melted and running away drop by drop. In fact the purplish blue -samovar looked as if it had drunken shivers. I poured water over it. It -hissed, and sank sadly in ruins on the floor. - -The front door-bell rang. I went to open the door. In answer to the old -lady's question as to whether the samovar was ready, I replied briefly: - -"Yes; it is ready." - -These words, spoken, of course, in my confusion and terror, were taken -for insolence. My punishment was doubled. They half killed me. The -old lady beat me with a bunch of fir-twigs, which did not hurt much, -but left under the skin of my back a great many splinters, driven in -deeply. Before night my back was swollen like a pillow, and by noon the -next day the master was obliged to take me to the hospital. - -When the doctor, comically tall and thin, examined me, he said in a -calm, dull voice: - -"This is a case of cruelty which will have to be investigated." - -My master blushed, shuffled his feet, and said something in a low voice -to the doctor, who looked over his head and said shortly: - -"I can't. It is impossible." - -Then he asked me: - -"Do you want to make a complaint?" - -I was in great pain, but I said: - -"No, make haste and cure me." - -They took me into another room, laid me on a table, and the doctor -pulled out the splinters with pleasantly cold pincers. He said, -jestingly: - -"They have decorated your skin beautifully, my friend; now you will be -waterproof." - -When he had finished his work of pricking me unmercifully, he said: - -"Forty-two splinters have been taken out, my friend. Remember that. It -is something to boast of! Come back at the same time to-morrow to have -the dressing replaced. Do they often beat you?" - -I thought for a moment, then said: - -"Not so often as they used to." - -The doctor burst into a hoarse laugh. - -"It is all for the best, my friend, all for the best." When he took me -back to my master he said to him: - -"I hand him over to you; he is repaired. Bring him back to-morrow -without fail. I congratulate you. He is a comical fellow you have -there." - -When we were in the cab my master said to me: - -"They used to beat me too, Pyeshkov. What do you think of that? They -did beat me, my lad! And you have me to pity you; but I had no one, no -one. People are very hard everywhere; but one gets no pity--no, not -from any one. Ekh! Wild fowl!" - -He grumbled all the way home. I was very sorry for him, and grateful to -him for treating me like a man. - -They welcomed me at the house as if it had been my name-day. The women -insisted on hearing in detail how the doctor had treated me and what he -had said. They listened and sighed, then kissed me tenderly, wrinkling -their brows. This intense interest in illness, pain, and all kinds of -unpleasantness always amazed me. - -I saw that they were pleased with me for not complaining of them, and I -took advantage of the moment to ask if I might have some books from the -tailor's wife. They did not have the heart to refuse me. Only the old -lady cried in surprise: - -"What a demon he is!" - -The next day I stood before the tailor's wife, who said to me kindly: - -"They told me that you were ill, and that you had been taken to -hospital. You see what stories get about." - -I was silent. I was ashamed to tell her the truth. Why should she -know of such sad and coarse things? It was nice to think that she was -different from other people. - -Once more I read the thick books of Dumas _père_, Ponson de Terraille, -Montepaine, Zakonier, Gaboriau, and Bourgobier. I devoured all these -books quickly, one after the other, and I was happy. I felt myself -to be part of a life which was out of the ordinary, which stirred -me sweetly and aroused my courage. Once more I burned my improvised -candle, and read all through the night till the morning, so that my -eyes began to hurt me a little. The old mistress said to me kindly: - -"Take care, bookworm. You will spoil your sight and grow blind!" - -However, I soon realized that all these interestingly complicated -books, despite the different incidents, and the various countries -and towns about which they were written, had one common theme: good -people made unhappy and oppressed by bad people, the latter were always -more successful and clever than the good, but in the end something -unexpected always overthrowing the wicked, and the good winning. The -"love," of which both men and women spoke in the same terms, bored me. -In fact, it was not only uninteresting to me, but it aroused a vague -contempt. - -Sometimes from the very first chapters I began to wonder who would win -or who would be vanquished, and as soon as the course of the story -became clear, I would set myself to unravel the skein of events by the -aid of my own fancy. When I was not reading I was thinking of the books -I had on hand, as one would think about the problems in an arithmetic. -I became more skilful every day in guessing which of the characters -would enter into the paradise of happiness and which would be utterly -confounded. - -But through all this I saw the glimmer of living and, to me, -significant truths, the outlines of another life, other standards. It -was clear to me that in Paris the cabmen, working men, soldiers, and -all "black people"[1] were not at all as they were in Nijni, Kazan, -or Perm. They dared to speak to gentlefolk, and behaved toward them -more simply and independently than our people. Here, for example, was -a soldier quite unlike any I had known, unlike Sidorov, unlike the -Viatskian on the boat, and still more unlike Ermokhin. He was more -human than any of these. He had something of Smouri about him, but he -was not so savage and coarse. Here was a shopkeeper, but he was much -better than any of the shopkeepers I had known. And the priests in -books were not like the priests I knew. They had more feeling, and -seemed to enter more into the lives of their flocks. And in general -it seemed to me that life abroad, as it appeared in books, was more -interesting, easier, better than the life I knew. Abroad, people did -not behave so brutally. They never jeered at other human creatures -as cruelly as the Viatskian soldier had been jeered at, nor prayed -to God as importunately as the old mistress did. What I noticed -particularly was that, when villains, misers, and low characters were -depicted in books, they did not show that incomprehensible cruelty, -that inclination to jeer at humanity, with which I was acquainted, and -which was often brought to my notice. There was method in the cruelty -of these bookish villains. One could almost always understand why they -were cruel; but the cruelty which I witnessed was aimless, senseless, -an amusement from which no one expected to gain any advantage. - -[Footnote 1: The common people.] - -With every book that I read this dissimilarity between Russian life and -that of other countries stood out more clearly, causing a perplexed -feeling of irritation within me, strengthening my suspicion of the -veracity of the old, well-read pages with their dirty "dogs'-ears." - -And then there fell into my hands Goncourt's novel, "The Brothers -Zemganno." I read it through in one night, and, surprised at the new -experience, read the simple, pathetic story over again. There was -nothing complicated about it, nothing interesting at first sight. In -fact, the first pages seemed dry, like the lives of the saints. Its -language, so precise and stripped of all adornment, was at first an -unpleasant surprise to me; but the paucity of words, the strongly -constructed phrases, went straight to the heart. It so aptly described -the drama of the acrobat brothers that my hands trembled with the -enjoyment of reading the book. I wept bitterly as I read how the -unfortunate artist, with his legs broken, crept up to the loft where -his brother was secretly engaged in his favorite art. - -When I returned this glorious book to the tailor's wife I begged her to -give me another one like it. - -"How do you mean like that?" she asked, laughing. - -This laugh confused me, and I could not explain what I wanted. Then she -said: - -"That is a dull book. Just wait! I will give you another more -interesting." - -In the course of a day or two she gave me Greenwood's "The True History -of a little Waif." The title of the book at first turned me against it, -but the first pages called up a smile of joy, and still smiling, I read -it from beginning to end, re-reading some of the pages two or three -times. - -So in other countries, also, boys lived hard and harassing lives! After -all, I was not so badly off; I need not complain. - -Greenwood gave me a lot of courage, and soon after that I was given a -"real" book, "Eugénie Grandet." - -_Old Grandet_ reminded me vividly of grandfather. I was annoyed -that the book was so small, and surprised at the amount of truth it -contained. Truths which were familiar and boring to me in life were -shown to me in a different light in this book, without malice and quite -calmly. All the books which I had read before Greenwood's, condemned -people as severely and noisily as my employers did, often arousing my -sympathy for the villain and a feeling of irritation with the good -people. I was always sorry to see that despite enormous expenditure of -intelligence and willpower, a man still failed to obtain his desires. -The good characters stood awaiting events from first to last page, as -immovable as stone pillars, and although all kinds of evil plots were -formed against these stone pillars, stones do not arouse sympathy. No -matter how beautiful and strong a wall may be, one does not love it -if one wants to get the apple on the tree on the other side of it. It -always seemed to me that all that was most worth having, and vigorous -was hidden behind the "good" people. - -In Goncourt, Greenwood, and Balzac there were no villains, but just -simple people, wonderfully alive. One could not doubt that, whatever -they were alleged to have said and done, they really did say and do, -and they could not have said and done anything else. - -In this fashion I learned to understand what a great treat a "good and -proper" book can be. But how to find it? The tailor's wife could not -help me in this. - -"Here is a good book," she said, laying before me Arsène Huissier's -"Hands full of Roses, Gold, and Blood." She also gave me the novels of -Beyle, Paul de Kock and Paul Féval, and I read them all with relish. -She liked the novels of Mariette and Vernier, which to me appeared -dull. I did not care for Spielhagen, but I was much taken with the -stories of Auerbach. Sue and Huga, also, I did not like, preferring -Walter Scott. I wanted books which excited me, and made me feel happy, -like wonderful Balzac. - -I did not care for the porcelain woman as much as I had done at first. -When I went to see her, I put on a clean shirt, brushed my hair, and -tried to appear good-looking. In this I was hardly successful. I always -hoped that, seeing my good looks, she would speak to me in a simple and -friendly manner, without that hsh-like smile on her frivolous face. But -all she did was to smile and ask me in her sweet, tired voice: - -"Have you read it? Did you like it?" - -"No." - -Slightly raising her eyebrows, she looked at me, and, drawing in her -breath, spoke through her nose. - -"But why?" - -"I have read about all that before." - -"Above what?" - -"About love." - -Her eyes twinkled, as she burst out into her honeyed laugh. - -"_Ach_, but you see all books are written about love!" - -Sitting in a big arm-chair, she swung her small feet, incased in fur -slippers, to and fro, yawned, wrapped her blue dressing-gown around -her, and drummed with her pink fingers on the cover of the book on her -knee. I wanted to say to her: - -"Why don't you leave this flat? The officers write letters to you, and -laugh at you." - -But I had not the audacity to say this, and went away, bearing with me -a thick book on "Love," a sad sense of disenchantment in my heart. - -They talked about this woman in the yard more evilly, derisively, -and spitefully than ever. It offended me to hear these foul and, no -doubt, lying stories. When I was away from her, I pitied the woman, and -suffered for her; but when I was with her, and saw her small, sharp -eyes, the cat-like flexibility of her small body, and that always -frivolous face, pity and fear disappeared, vanished like smoke. - -In the spring she suddenly went away, and in a few days her husband -moved to new quarters. - -While the rooms stood empty, awaiting a new tenant, I went to look at -the bare walls, with their square patches where pictures had hung, bent -nails, and wounds made by nails. Strewn about the stained floor were -pieces of different-colored cloth, balls of paper, broken boxes from -the chemist, empty scent-bottles. A large brass pin gleamed in one spot. - -All at once I felt sad and wished that I could see the tailor's little -wife once more to tell her how grateful I was to her. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -Before the departure of the tailor's wife there had come to live under -the flat occupied by my employers a black-eyed young lady, with her -little girl and her mother, a gray-haired old woman, everlastingly -smoking cigarettes in an amber mouthpiece. The young lady was very -beautiful, imperious, and proud. She spoke in a pleasant, deep voice. -She looked at every one with head held high and unblinking eyes, as if -they were all far away from her, and she could hardly see them. Nearly -every day her black soldier-servant, Tuphyaev, brought a thin-legged, -brown horse to the steps of her flat. The lady came out in a long, -steel-colored, velvet dress, wearing white gauntleted gloves and tan -boots. Holding the train of her skirt and a whip with a lilac-colored -stone in its handle in one hand, with the other little hand she -lovingly stroked the horse's muzzle. He fixed his great eyes upon her, -trembling all over, and softly trampled the soaked ground under his -hoofs. - -"Robaire, Robaire," she said in a low voice, and patted the beautiful, -arched neck of the steed with a firm hand. - -Then setting her foot on the knee of Tuphyaev, she sprang lightly into -the saddle, and the horse, prancing proudly, went through the gateway. -She sat in the saddle as easily as if she were part of it. She was -beautiful with that rare kind of beauty which always seems new and -wonderful, and always fills the heart with an intoxicating joy. When -I looked at her I thought that Diana of Poitiers, Queen Margot, the -maiden La Vallière, and other beauties, heroines of historical novels, -were like her. - -She was constantly surrounded by the officers of the division which was -stationed in the town, and in the evenings they used to visit her, and -play the piano, violin, guitar, and dance and sing. The most frequent -of her visitors was Major Olessov, who revolved about her on his short -legs, stout, red-faced, gray-haired, and as greasy as an engineer on a -steamboat. He played the guitar well, and bore himself as the humble, -devoted servant of the lady. - -As radiantly beautiful as her mother was the little five-year-old, -curly-haired, chubby girl. Her great, dark-blue eyes looked about her -gravely, calmly expectant, and there was an air of thoughtfulness about -her which was not at all childish. - -Her grandmother was occupied with housekeeping from morning to -night, with the help of Tuphyaev, a morose, taciturn man, and a fat, -cross-eyed housemaid. There was no nursemaid, and the little girl lived -almost without any notice being taken of her, playing about all day on -the front steps or on a heap of planks near them. I often went out to -play with her in the evenings, for I was very fond of her. She soon -became used to me, and would fall asleep in my arms while I was telling -her a story. When this happened, I used to carry her to bed. Before -long it came about that she would not go to sleep, when she was put to -bed, unless I went to say good night to her. When I went to her, she -would hold out her plump hand with a grand air and say: - -"Good-by till to-morrow. Grandmother, how ought I to say it?" - -"God preserve you!" said the grandmother, blowing a cloud of dark-blue -smoke from her mouth and thin nose. - -"God preserve you till to-morrow! And now I am going to sleep," said -the little girl, rolling herself up in the bedclothes, which were -trimmed with lace. - -The grandmother corrected her. - -"Not till to-morrow, but for always." - -"But does n't to-morrow mean for always?" - -She loved the word "to-morrow," and whatever pleased her specially -she carried forward into the future. She would stick into the ground -flowers that had been plucked or branches that had been broken by the -wind, and say: - -"To-morrow this will be a garden." - -"To-morrow, some time, I shall buy myself a horse, and ride on -horseback like mother." - -She was a clever child, but not very lively, and would often break off -in the midst of a merry game to become thoughtful, or ask unexpectedly: - -"Why do priests have hair like women?" - -If she stung herself with nettles, she would shake her finger at them, -saying: - -"You wait! I shall pray God to do something vewy bady to you. God can -do bad things to every one; He can even punish mama." Sometimes a soft, -serious melancholy descended upon her. She would press close to me, -gazing up at the sky with her blue, expectant eyes, and say: - -"Sometimes grandmother is cross, but mama never; she on'y laughs. Every -one loves her, because she never has any time. People are always coming -to see her and to look at her because she is so beautiful. She is -'ovely, mama is. 'Oseph says so--'ovely!" - -I loved to listen to her, for she spoke of a world of which I knew -nothing. She spoke willingly and often about her mother, and a new life -gradually opened out before me. I was again reminded of Queen Margot, -which deepened my faith in books and also my interest in life. One day -when I was sitting on the steps waiting for my people, who had gone for -a walk, and the little girl had dozed off in my arms, her mother rode -up on horseback, sprang lightly to the ground, and, throwing back her -head, asked: - -"What, is she asleep?" - -"Yes." - -"That's right." - -The soldier Tuphyaev came running to her and took the horse. She stuck -her whip into her belt and, holding out her arms, said: - -"Give her to me!" - -"I'll carry her in myself." - -"Come on!" cried the lady, as if I had been a horse, and she stamped -her foot on the step. - -The little girl woke up, blinking, and, seeing her mother, held out her -arms to her. They went away. - -I was used to being shouted at, but I did not like this lady to shout -at me. She had only to give an order quietly, and every one obeyed her. - -In a few minutes the cross-eyed maid came out for me. The little girl -was naughty, and would not go to sleep without saying good night. - -It was not without pride in my bearing toward the mother that I entered -the drawing-room, where the little girl was sitting on the knees of her -mother, who was deftly undressing her. - -"Here he is," she said. "He has come--this monster." - -"He is not a monster, but my boy." - -"Really? Very good. Well, you would like to give something to your boy, -would n't you?" - -"Yes, I should." - -"A good idea! I will see to it, and you will go to bed." - -"Good-by till to-morrow," said the little girl, holding out her hand to -me. "God preserve you till to-morrow!" - -The lady exclaimed in surprise: - -"Who taught you to say that? Grandmother?" - -"Ye-es." - -When the child had left the room the lady beckoned to me. - -"What shall we give you?" - -I told her that I did not want anything; but could she let me have a -book to read? - -She lifted my chin with her warm, scented fingers, and asked, with a -pleasant smile: - -"So you are fond of reading? Yes; what books have you read?" - -When she smiled she looked more beautiful than ever. I confusedly told -her the names of several books. - -"What did you find to like in them?" she asked, laying her hand on the -table and moving her fingers slightly. - -A strong, sweet smell of some sort of flowers came from her, mixed with -the odor of horse-sweat. She looked at me through her long eyelashes, -thoughtfully grave. No one had ever looked at me like that before. - -The room was packed as tightly as a bird's nest with beautiful, soft -furniture. The windows were covered with thick green curtains; the -snowy white tiles of the stove gleamed in the half-light; beside the -stove shone the glossy surface of a black piano; and from the walls, -in dull-gold frames, looked dark writings in large Russian characters. -Under each writing hung a large dark seal by a cord. Everything about -her looked at that woman as humbly and timidly as I did. - -I explained to her as well as I could that my life was hard and -uninteresting and that reading helped me to forget it. - -"Yes; so that's what it is," she said, standing up. "It is not a bad -idea, and, in fact, it is quite right. Well, what shall we do? I will -get some books for you, but just now I have none. But wait! You can -have this one." - -She took a tattered book with a yellow cover from the couch. - -"When you have read this I will give you the second volume; there are -four." - -I went away with the "Secrets of Peterburg," by Prince Meshtcheski, -and began to read the book with great attention. But before I had read -many pages I saw that the Peterburgian "secrets" were considerably less -interesting than those of Madrid, London, or Paris. The only part which -took my fancy was the fable of _Svoboda_ (Liberty) and _Palka_ (stick). - -"I am your superior," said _Svoboda_, "because I am cleverer." - -But _Palka_ answered her: - -"No, it is I who am your superior, because I am stronger than you." - -They disputed and disputed and fought about it. _Palka_ beat _Svoboda_, -and, if I remember rightly, _Svoboda_ died in the hospital as the -result of her injuries. - -There was some talk of nihilists in this book. I remember that, -according to Prince Meshtcheski, a nihilist was such a poisonous person -that his very glance would kill a fowl. What he wrote about nihilists -struck me as being offensive and rude, but I understood nothing else, -and fell into a state of melancholy. It was evident that I could not -appreciate good books; for I was convinced that it was a good book. -Such a great and beautiful lady could never read bad books. - -"Well, did you like it?" she asked me when I took back the yellow novel -by Meshtcheski. - -I found it very hard to answer no; I thought it would make her angry. -But she only laughed, and going behind the _portière_ which led into -her sleeping-chamber, brought back a little volume in a binding of -dark-blue morocco leather. - -"You will like this one, only take care not to soil it." - -This was a volume of Pushkin's poems. I read all of them at once, -seizing upon them with a feeling of greed such as I experienced -whenever I happened to visit a beautiful place that I had never seen -before. I always tried to run all over it at once. It was like roaming -over mossy hillocks in a marshy wood, and suddenly seeing spread before -one a dry plain covered with flowers and bathed in sun-rays. For a -second one gazes upon it enchanted, and then one begins to race about -happily, and each contact of one's feet with the soft growth of the -fertile earth sends a thrill of joy through one. - -Pushkin had so surprised me with the simplicity and music of poetry -that for a long time prose seemed unnatural to me, and it did not come -easy to read it. The prologue to "Ruslan" reminded me of grandmother's -best stories, all wonderfully compressed into one, and several lines -amazed me by their striking truth. - - There, by ways which few observe, - Are the trails of invisible wild creatures. - -I repeated these wonderful words in my mind, and I could see those -footpaths so familiar to me, yet hardly visible to the average being. I -saw the mysterious footprints which had pressed down the grass, which -had not had time to shake off the drops of dew, as heavy as mercury. -The full, sounding lines of poetry were easily remembered. They -adorned everything of which they spoke as if for a festival. They made -me happy, my life easy and pleasant. The verses rang out like bells -heralding me into a new life. What happiness it was to be educated! - -The magnificent stories of Pushkin touched me more closely, and were -more intelligible to me than anything I had read. When I had read them -a few times I knew them by heart, and when I went to bed I whispered -the verses to myself, with my eyes closed, until I fell asleep. Very -often I told these stories to the orderlies, who listened and laughed, -and abused me jokingly. Sidorov stroked my head and said softly: - -"That's fine, is n't it? O Lord--" - -The awakening which had come to me was noticed by my employers. The old -lady scolded me. - -"You read too much, and you have not cleaned the samovar for four -days, you young monkey! I shall have to take the rolling-pin to you--" - -What did I care for the rolling-pin? I took refuge in verses. - - Loving black evil with all thy heart, - O old witch that thou art! - -The lady rose still higher in my esteem. See what books she read! She -was not like the tailor's porcelain wife. - -When I took back the book, and handed it to her with regret, she said -in a tone which invited confidence: - -"Did you like it? Had you heard of Pushkin before?" - -I had read something about the poet in one of the newspapers, but I -wanted her to tell me about him, so I said that I had never heard of -him. - -Then she briefly told me the life and death of Pushkin, and asked, -smiling like a spring day: - -"Do you see how dangerous it is to love women?" - -All the books I had read had shown me it was really dangerous, but also -pleasant, so I said: - -"It is dangerous, yet every one falls in love. And women suffer for -love, too." - -She looked at me, as she looked at every one, through her lashes, and -said gravely: - -"You think so? You understand that? Then the best thing I can wish you -is that you may not forget it." - -And then she asked me what verses I liked best. - -I began to repeat some from memory, with gesticulations. She listened -silently and gravely, then rose, and, walking up and down the room, -said thoughtfully: - -"We shall have to have you taught, my little wild animal. I must think -about it. Your employers--are they relatives of yours?" - -When I answered in the affirmative she exclaimed: "Oh!" as if she -blamed me for it. - -She gave me "The Songs of Béranger," a special edition with engravings, -gilt edges, and a red leather binding. These songs made me feel giddy, -with their strange mixture of bitter grief and boisterous happiness. - -With a cold chill at my heart I read the bitter words of "The Old -Beggar." - - Homeless worm, have I disturbed you? - Crush me under your feet! - Why be pitiful? Crush me quickly! - Why is it that you have never taught me, - Nor given me an outlet for my energy? - From the grub an ant might have come. - I might have died in the love of my fellows. - But dying as an old tramp, - I shall be avenged on the world! - -And directly after this I laughed till I cried over the "Weeping -Husband." I remembered especially the words of Béranger: - - A happy science of life - Is not hard for the simple. - -Béranger aroused me to moods of joyfulness, to a desire to be saucy, -and to say something rude to people,--rude, sharp words. In a very -short time I had become proficient in this art. His verses I learned by -heart, and recited them with pleasure to the orderlies, running into -the kitchen, where they sat for a few minutes at a time. - -But I soon had to give this up because the lines, - - But such a hat is not becoming - To a young girl of seventeen, - -gave rise to an offensive conversation about girls that made me -furiously disgusted, and I hit the soldier Ermokhin over the head with -a saucepan. Sidorov and the other orderlies tore me away from his -clumsy hands, but I made up my mind from that time to go no more to the -officers' kitchen. - -I was not allowed to walk about the streets. In fact, there was no time -for it, since the work had so increased. Now, in addition to my usual -duties as housemaid, yardman, and errand-boy, I had to nail calico to -wide boards, fasten the plans thereto, and copy calculations for my -master's architectural work. I also had to verify the contractor's -accounts, for my master worked from morning to night, like a machine. - -At that time the public buildings of the _Yarmarka_[1] were private -property. Rows of shops were built very rapidly, and my master had -the contracts for the reconstruction of old shops and the erection of -new ones. He drew up plans for the rebuilding of vaults, the throwing -out of a dormer-window, and such changes. I took the plans to an old -architect, together with an envelop in which was hidden paper money -to the value of twenty-five rubles. The architect took the money, and -wrote under the plans: "The plans are correct, and the inspection of -the work has been performed by me. Imraik." As a matter of fact, he had -not seen the original of the plans, and he could not inspect the work, -as he was always obliged to stay at home by reason of his malady. - -[Footnote 1: Market-place.] - -I used to take bribes to the inspector of the _Yarmarka_ and to other -necessary people, from whom I received what the master called papers, -which permitted all kinds of illegalities. For this service I obtained -the right to wait for my employers at the door on the front steps when -they went out to see their friends in the evenings. This did not often -happen, but when it did, they never returned until after midnight. I -used to sit at the top of the steps, or on the heap of planks opposite -them, for hours, looking into the windows of my lady's flat, thirstily -listening to the gay conversation and the music. - -The windows were open. Through the curtains and the screen of flowers -I could see the fine figures of officers moving about the room. The -rotund major waddled about, and she floated about, dressed with -astonishing simplicity, but beautifully. - -In my own mind I called her "Queen Margot." - -"This is the gay life that they write about in French books," I -thought, looking in at the window. And I always felt rather sad about -it. A childish jealousy made it painful for me to see "Queen Margot" -surrounded by men, who buzzed about her like bees over flowers. - -Her least-frequent visitor was a tall, unhappy-looking officer, with a -furrowed brow and deep-sunken eyes, who always brought his violin with -him and played marvelously--so marvelously that the passers-by used -to stop under the window, and all the dwellers in the street used to -gather round. Even my employers, if they happened to be at home, would -open the window, listen, and praise. I never remember their praising -any one else except the subdeacon of the cathedral, and I knew that a -fish-pie was more pleasing to them than any kind of music. - -Sometimes this officer sang, or recited verses in a muffled voice, -sighing strangely and pressing his hand to his brow. Once when I was -playing under the window with the little girl and "Queen Margot" asked -him to sing, he refused for a long time. Then he said clearly: - - "Only a song has need of beauty, - While beauty has no need of songs." - -I thought these lines were lovely, and for some reason I felt sorry for -the officer. - -What I liked best was to look at my lady when she sat at the piano, -alone in the room, and played. Music intoxicated me, and I could see -nothing but the window, and beyond that, in the yellow light of the -lamp, the finely formed figure of the woman, with her haughty profile -and her white hands hovering like birds over the keys. I gazed at her, -listened to the plaintive music, and dreamed. If I could find some -treasure, I would give it all to her, so that she should be rich. If -I had been Skobelev, I would have declared war on the Turks again. I -would have taken money for ransoms, and built a house for her on the -Otkossa, the best site in the whole town, and made her a present of it. -If only she would leave this street, where every one talked offensively -about her. The neighbors, the servants belonging to our yard, and -my employers more than all spoke about "Queen Margot" as evilly and -spitefully as they had talked about the tailor's wife, though more -cautiously, with lowered voices, and looking about them as they spoke. - -They were afraid of her, probably because she was the widow of a very -distinguished man. The writings on the walls of her rooms, too, were -privileges bestowed on her husband's ancestors by the old Russian -emperors Goudonov, Alexei, and Peter the Great. This was told me by -the soldier Tuphyaev, a man of education, who was always reading the -gospels. Or it may have been that people were afraid lest she should -thrash them with her whip with the lilac-colored stone in the handle. -It was said that she had once struck a person of position with it. - -But words uttered under the breath are no better than words uttered -aloud. My lady lived in a cloud of enmity--an enmity which I could not -understand and which tormented me. - -Now that I knew there was another life; that there were different -people, feelings, and ideas, this house and all its tenants aroused -in me a feeling of disgust that oppressed me more and more. It was -entangled in the meshes of a dirty net of disgraceful tittle-tattle, -there was not a single person in it of whom evil was not spoken. The -regimental chaplain, though he was ill and miserable, had a reputation -for being a drunkard and a rake; the officers and their wives were -living, according to my employers, in a state of sin; the soldiers' -conversation about women, which ran on the same lines, had become -repulsive to me. But my employers disgusted me most of all. I knew -too well the real value of their favorite amusement, namely, the -merciless judgment of other people. Watching and commenting on the -crimes of others was the only amusement in which they could indulge -without paying for it. They amused themselves by putting those about -them verbally on the rack, and, as it were, revenged themselves on -others because they lived so piously, laboriously, and uninterestingly -themselves. - -When they spoke vilely about "Queen Margot" I was seized by a -convulsion of feeling which was not childish at all. My heart swelled -with hatred for the backbiters. I was overcome by an irresistible -desire to do harm to every one, to be insolent, and sometimes a flood -of tormenting pity for myself and every one else swept over me. That -dumb pity was more painful than hatred. - -I knew more about my queen than they did, and I was always afraid that -they would find out what I knew. - -On Sundays, when my employers had gone to the cathedral for high mass, -I used to go to her the first thing in the morning. She would call -me into her bedroom, and I sat in a small arm-chair, upholstered in -gold-colored silk, with the little girl on my knee, and told the mother -about the books I had read. She lay in a wide bed, with her cheek -resting on her small hands, which were clasped together. Her body was -hidden under a counterpane, gold in color, like everything else in the -bedroom; her dark hair lay in a plait over her swarthy shoulder and her -breast, and sometimes fell over the side of the bed till it touched the -floor. - -As she listened to me she looked into my face with her soft eyes and a -hardly perceptible smile and said: - -"That's right." - -Even her kind smile was, in my eyes, the condescending smile of a -queen. She spoke in a deep, tender voice, and it seemed to me that it -said always: - -"I know that I am immeasurably above all other people; no one of them -is necessary to me." - -Sometimes I found her before her mirror, sitting in a low chair and -doing her hair, the ends of which lay on her knees, over the arms, and -back of the chair, and fell almost to the floor. Her hair was as long -and thick as grandmother's. She put on her stockings in my presence, -but her clean nudity aroused in me no feeling of shame. I had only a -joyful feeling of pride in her. A flowerlike smell always came from -her, protecting her from any evil thoughts concerning her. - -I felt sure that the love of the kitchen and the pantry was unknown to -Queen Margot. She knew something different, a higher joy, a different -kind of love. - -But one day, late in the afternoon, on going into her drawing-room, I -heard from the bedroom the ringing laugh of the lady of my heart. A -masculine voice said: - -"Wait a minute! Good Lord! I can't believe--" - -I ought to have gone away. I knew that, but I could not. - -"Who is that?" she asked. "You? Come in!" - -The bedroom was heavy with the odor of flowers. It was darkened, for -the curtains were drawn. Queen Margot lay in bed, with the bedclothes -drawn up to her chin, and beside her, against the wall, sat, clad only -in his shirt, with his chest bared, the officer violinist. On his -breast was a scar which lay like a red streak from the right shoulder -to the nipple and was so vivid that even in the half-light I could see -it distinctly. The hair of the officer was ruffled comically, and for -the first time I saw a smile on his sad, furrowed countenance. He was -smiling strangely. His large, feminine eyes looked at the "queen" as if -it were the first time he had gazed upon her beauty. - -"This is my friend," said Queen Margot. I did not know whether she were -referring to me or to him. - -"What are you looking so frightened about?" I heard her voice as if -from a distance. "Come here." - -When I went to her she placed her hands on my bare neck and said: - -"You will grow up and you will be happy. Go along!" - -I put the book on the shelf, took another, and went away as best I -could. - -Something seemed to grate in my heart. Of course I did not think for a -moment that my queen loved as other women nor did the officer give me -reason to think so. I saw his face before me, with that smile. He was -smiling for joy, like a child who has been pleasantly surprised, and -his sad face was wonderfully transfigured. He had to love her. Could -any one not love her? And she also had cause to bestow her love upon -him generously. He played so wonderfully, and could quote poetry so -touchingly. - -But the very fact that I had to find these consolations showed me -clearly that all was not well with my attitude toward what I had seen -or even toward Queen Margot herself. I felt that I had lost something, -and I lived for several days in a state of deep dejection. One day I -was turbulently and recklessly insolent, and when I went to my lady for -a book, she said to me sternly: - -"You seem to be a desperate character from what I have heard. I did not -know that." - -I could not endure this, and I began to explain how nauseating I found -the life I had to lead, and how hard it was for me to hear people -speaking ill of her. Standing in front of me, with her hand on my -shoulder, she listened at first attentively and seriously; but soon she -was laughing and pushing me away from her gently. - -"That will do; I know all about it. Do you understand? I know." - -Then she took both my hands and said to me very tenderly: - -"The less attention you pay to all that, the better for you. You wash -your hands very badly." - -She need not have said this. If she had had to clean the brasses, and -wash the floor and the dirty cloths, her hands would not have been any -better than mine, I think. - -"When a person knows how to live, he is slandered; they are jealous of -him. And if he doesn't know how to live, they despise him," she said -thoughtfully, drawing me to her, and looking into my eyes with a smile. -"Do you love me?" - -"Yes." - -"Very much?" - -"Yes." - -"But how?" - -"I don't know." - -"Thank you! You are a good boy. I like people to love me." She smiled, -looked as if she were going to say something more, but remained silent, -still keeping me in her arms. "Come oftener to see me; come whenever -you can." - -I took advantage of this, and she did me a lot of good. After dinner my -employers used to lie down, and I used to run down-stairs. If she was -at home, I would stay with her for an hour and sometimes even longer. - -"You must read Russian books; you must know all about Russian life." - -She taught me, sticking hair-pins into her fragrant hair with rosy -fingers. And she enumerated the Russian authors, adding: - -"Will you remember them?" - -She often said thoughtfully, and with an air of slight vexation: - -"We must have you taught, and I am always forgetting. _Ach_, my God!" - -After sitting with her, I ran down-stairs with a new book in my hands, -feeling as if I had been washed inside. - -I had already read Aksakov's "Family Chronicle," the glorious Russian -poem "In the Forests," the amazing "Memoirs of a Hunter," several -volumes of Grebenkov and Solugub, and the poetry of Venevitinov, -Odoevski, and Tutchev. These books laved my soul, washing away the -husks of barren and bitter reality. I felt that these were good books, -and realized that they were indispensable to me. One result of reading -them was that I gained a firm conviction that I was not alone in the -world, and the fact that I should not be lost took root in my soul. - -When grandmother came to see me I used to tell her joyfully about Queen -Margot, and she, taking a pinch of snuff with great enjoyment, said -heartily: - -"Well, well; that is very nice. You see, there are plenty of good -people about. You only have to look for them, and then you will find -them." - -And one day she suggested: - -"How would it be if I went to her and said thank you for what she does -for you?" - -"No; it is better not." - -"Well, if you don't want me to----Lord! Lord! how good it all is! I -would like to go on living for ever and ever!" - -Queen Margot never carried out her project of having me taught, for an -unpleasant affair happened on the feast of the Holy Trinity that nearly -ruined me. - -Not long before the holiday my eyelids became terribly swollen, and my -eyes were quite closed up. My employers were afraid that I should go -blind, and I also was afraid. They took me to the well-known doctor, -Genrikh Rodzevich, who lanced my eyelids and for days I lay with my -eyes bandaged, in tormenting, black misery. The day before the feast of -the Trinity my bandages were taken off, and I walked about once more, -feeling as if I had come back from a grave in which I had been laid -alive. Nothing can be more terrible than to lose one's sight. It is an -unspeakable injury which takes away a hundred worlds from a man. - -The joyful day of the Holy Trinity arrived, and, as an invalid, I -was off duty from noon and went to the kitchen to pay a visit to the -orderlies. All of them, even the strict Tuphyaev, were drunk, and -toward evening Ermokhin struck Sidorov on the head with a block of -wood. The latter fell senseless to the ground, and Ermokhin, terrified, -ran out to the causeway. - -An alarming rumor that Sidorov had been murdered soon spread over the -yard. People gathered on the steps and looked at the soldier stretched -motionless across the threshold. There were whispers that the police -ought to be sent for, but no one went to fetch them, and no one could -be persuaded to touch the soldier. - -Then the washerwoman Natalia Kozlovski, in a new, blue frock, with a -white neckerchief, appeared on the scene. She pushed the people aside -angrily, went into the entrance passage, squatted down, and said loudly: - -"Fools! He is alive! Give me some water!" - -They began to protest. - -"Don't meddle with what is not your business!" - -"Water, I tell you!" she cried, as if there were a fire. She lifted -her new frock over her knees in a businesslike manner, spread out her -underskirt, and laid the soldier's bleeding head on her knees. - -The crowd dispersed, disapproving and fearful. - -In the dim light of the passage I could see the eyes of the washerwoman -full of tears, flashing angrily in her white, round face. I took her a -pail of water, and she ordered me to throw it over the head and breast -of Sidorov with the caution: - -"Don't spill it over me. I am going to pay a visit to some friends." - -The soldier came to himself, opened his dull eyes, and moaned. - -"Lift him up," said Natalia, holding him under the armpits with her -hands outstretched lest he should soil her frock. We carried the -soldier into the kitchen and laid him on the bed. She wiped his face -with a wet cloth, and went away, saying: - -"Soak the cloth in water and hold it to his head. I will go and find -that fool. Devils! I suppose they won't be satisfied until they have -drunk themselves into prison." - -She went out, after slipping her soiled underpetticoat to the floor, -flinging it into a corner and carefully smoothing out her rustling, -crumpled frock. - -Sidorov stretched himself, hiccupped, sighed. Warm drops of thick blood -fell on my bare feet from his head. This was unpleasant, but I was too -frightened to move my feet away from those drops. - -It was bitter. The sun shone festively out in the yard; the steps -of the houses and the gate were decorated with young birch; to each -pedestal were tied freshly cut branches of maple and mountain ash. The -whole street was gay with foliage; everything was young, new. Ever -since the morning I had felt that the spring holiday had come to stay, -and that it had made life cleaner, brighter, and happier. - -The soldier was sick. The stifling odor of warm vodka and green onion -filled the kitchen. Against the window were pressed dull, misty, broad -faces, with flattened noses, and hands held against their cheeks, which -made them look hideous. - -The soldier muttered as he recollected himself: - -"What happened to me? Did I fall, Ermokhin? Go-o-od comrade!" Then he -began to cough, wept drunken tears, and groaned, "My little sister! my -little sister!" - -He stood up, tottering, wet. He staggered, and, falling back heavily -upon the bed, said, rolling his eyes strangely: - -"They have quite killed me!" - -This struck me as funny. - -"What the devil are you laughing at?" he asked, looking at me dully. -"What is there to laugh at? I am killed forever!" - -He began to hit out at me with both hands, muttering: - -"The first time was that of Elias the prophet; the second time, St. -George on his steed; the third--Don't come near me! Go away, wolf!" - -"Don't be a fool!" I said. - -He became absurdly angry, roared, and stamped his feet. - -"I am killed, and you--" - -With his heavy, slow, dirty hand he struck me in the eyes. I set up a -howl, and blindly made for the yard, where I ran into Natalia leading -Ermokhin by the arm, crying: "Come along, horse! What is the matter -with you?" she asked, catching hold of me. - -"He has come to himself." - -"Come to himself, eh?" she drawled in amazement. And drawing Ermokhin -along, she said, "Well, werwolf, you may thank your God for this!" - -I washed my eyes with water, and, looking through the door of the -passage, saw the soldiers make their peace, embracing each other and -crying. Then they both tried to embrace Natalia, but she hit out at -them, shouting: - -"Take your paws off me, curs! What do you take me for? Make haste and -get to sleep before your masters come home, or there will be trouble -for you!" - -She made them lie down as if they were little children, the one on the -floor, the other on the pallet-bed, and when they began to snore, came -out into the porch. - -"I am in a mess, and I was dressed to go out visiting, too! Did he -hit you? What a fool! That's what it does--vodka! Don't drink, little -fellow, never drink." - -Then I sat on the bench at the gate with her, and asked how it was that -she was not afraid of drunken people. - -"I am not afraid of sober people, either. If they come near me, this -is what they get!" She showed me her tightly clenched, red fist. "My -dead husband was also given to drink too much, and once when he was -drunk I tied his hands and feet. When he had slept it off, I gave him -a birching for his health. 'Don't drink; don't get drunk when you are -married,' I said. 'Your wife should be your amusement, and not vodka.' -Yes, I scolded him until I was tired, and after that he was like wax in -my hands." - -"You are strong," I said, remembering the woman Eve, who deceived even -God Himself. - -Natalia replied, with a sigh: - -"A woman needs more strength than a man. She has to have strength -enough for two, and God has bestowed it upon her. Man is an unstable -creature." - -She spoke calmly, without malice, sitting with her arms folded over her -large bosom, resting her back against the fence, her eyes fixed sadly -on the dusty gutter full of rubbish. Listening to her clever talk, -I forgot all about the time. Suddenly I saw my master coming along -arm in arm with the mistress. They were walking slowly, pompously, -like a turkey-cock with his hen, and, looking at us attentively, said -something to each other. - -I ran to open the front door for them, and as she came up the steps the -mistress said to me, venomously: - -"So you are courting the washerwoman? Are you learning to carry on with -ladies of that low class?" - -This was so stupid that it did not even annoy me but I felt offended -when the master said, laughing: - -"What do you expect? It is time." - -The next morning when I went into the shed for the wood I found an -empty purse, in the square hole which was made for the hook of the -door. As I had seen it many times in the hands of Sidorov I took it to -him at once. - -"Where is the money gone?" he asked, feeling inside the purse with his -fingers. "Thirty rubles there were! Give them here!" - -His head was enveloped in a turban formed of a towel. Looking yellow -and wasted, he blinked at me angrily with his swollen eyes, and refused -to believe that I had found the purse empty. - -Ermokhin came in and backed him up, shaking his head at me. - -"It is he who has stolen it. Take him to his master. Soldiers do not -steal from soldiers." - -These words made me think that he had stolen the money himself and -had thrown the purse into my shed. I called out to his face, without -hesitation: - -"Liar! You stole it yourself!" - -I was convinced that I had guessed right when I saw his wooden face -drawn crooked with fear and rage. As he writhed, he cried shrilly: - -"Prove it!" - -How could I prove it? Ermokhin dragged me, with a shout, across the -yard. Sidorov followed us, also shouting. Several people put their -heads out of the windows. The mother of Queen Margot looked on, -smoking calmly. I realized that I had fallen in the esteem of my lady, -and I went mad. - -I remember the soldiers dragging me by the arms and my employers -standing before them, sympathetically agreeing with them, as they -listened to the complaint. Also the mistress saying: - -"Of course he took it! He was courting the washerwoman at the gate last -evening, and he must have had some money. No one gets anything from her -without money." - -"That's true," cried Ermokhin. - -I was swept off my feet, consumed by a wild rage. I began to abuse the -mistress, and was soundly beaten. - -But it was not so much the beating which tortured me as the thought -of what my Queen Margot was now thinking of me. How should I ever set -myself right in her eyes? Bitter were my thoughts in that dreadful -time. I did not strangle myself only because I had not the time to do -so. - -Fortunately for me, the soldiers spread the story over the whole yard, -the whole street, and in the evening, as I lay in the attic, I heard -the loud voice of Natalia Kozlovski below. - -"No! Why should I hold my tongue? No, my dear fellow, get away! Get -along with you! Go away, I say! If you don't, I will go to your -gentleman, and he will give you something!" - -I felt at once that this noise was about me. She was shouting near our -steps; her voice rang out loudly and triumphantly. - -"How much money did you show me yesterday? Where did you get it from? -Tell us!" - -Holding my breath with joy, I heard Sidorov drawl sadly: - -_"Aie! aie_! Ermokhin--" - -"And the boy has had the blame for it? He has been beaten for it, eh?" - -I felt like running down to the yard, dancing there for joy, kissing -the washerwoman out of gratitude; but at that moment, apparently from -the window, my mistress cried: - -"The boy was beaten because he was insolent. No one believed that he -was a thief except you, you slut!" - -"Slut yourself, madam! You are nothing better than a cow, if you will -permit me to say so." - -I listened to this quarrel as if it were music. My heart burned with -hot tears of self-pity, and gratitude to Natalia. I held my breath in -the effort to keep them back. - -Then the master came slowly up to the attic, sat on a projecting beam -near me, and said, smoothing his hair: - -"Well, brother Pyeshkov, and so you had nothing to do with it?" - -I turned my face away without speaking. - -"All the same, your language was hideous," he went on. I announced -quietly: - -"As soon as I can get up I shall leave you." - -He sat on in silence, smoking a cigarette. Looking fixedly at its end, -he said in a low voice: - -"What of it? That is your business. You are not a little boy any -longer; you must look about and see what is the best thing for -yourself." - -Then he went away. As usual, I felt sorry for him. - -Four days after this I left that house. I had a passionate desire to -say good-by to Queen Margot, but I had not the audacity to go to her, -though I confess I thought that she would have sent for me herself. - -When I bade good-by to the little girl I said: - -"Tell your mother that I thank her very much, will you?" - -"Yes, I will," she promised, and she smiled lovingly and tenderly. -"Good-by till to-morrow, eh? Yes?" - -I met her again twenty years later, married to an officer in the -_gendarmerie_. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Once more I became a washer-up on a steamboat, the _Perm_, a boat -as white as a swan, spacious, and swift. This time I was a "black" -washer-up, or a "kitchen man." I received seven rubles a month, and my -duties were to help the cook. - -The steward, stout and bloated, was as bald as a billiard-ball. He -walked heavily up and down the deck all day long with his hands clasped -behind his back, like a boar looking for a shady corner on a sultry -day. His wife flaunted herself in the buffet. She was a woman of about -forty, handsome, but faded, and so thickly powdered that her colored -dress was covered with the white, sticky dust that fell from her cheeks. - -The kitchen was ruled over by an expensive cook, Ivan Ivanovich, whose -surname was Medvyejenok. He was a small, stout man, with an aquiline -nose and mocking eyes. He was a coxcomb, wore starched collars, and -shaved every day. His cheeks were dark blue, and his dark mustaches -curled upward. He spent all his spare moments in the arrangement of -these mustaches, pulling at them with fingers stained by his work at -the stove, and looking at them in a small handglass. - -The most interesting person on the boat was the stoker, Yaakov Shumov, -a broad-chested, square man. His snub-nosed face was as smooth as a -spade; his coffee-colored eyes were hidden under thick eyebrows; his -cheeks were covered with small, bristling hairs, like the moss which -is found in marshes; and the same sort of hair, through which he could -hardly pass his crooked fingers, formed a close-fitting cap for his -head. - -He was skilful in games of cards for money, and his greed was amazing. -He was always hanging about the kitchen like a hungry dog, asking for -pieces of meat and bones. In the evenings he used to take his tea with -Medvyejenok and relate amazing stories about himself. In his youth he -had been assistant to the town shepherd of Riazin. Then a passing monk -lured him into a monastery, where he served for four years. - -"And I should have become a monk, a black star of God," he said in his -quick, comical way, "if a pilgrim had not come to our cloister from -Penza. She was very entertaining, and she upset me. 'Eh, you 're a fine -strong fellow,' says she, 'and I am a respectable widow and lonely. -You shall come to me,' she says. 'I have my own house, and I deal in -eider-down and feathers.' That suited me, and I went to her. I became -her lover, and lived with her as comfortably as warm bread in a oven, -for three years." - -"You lie hardily," Medvyejenok interrupted him, anxiously examining -a pimple on his nose. "If lies could make money, you would be worth -thousands." - -Yaakov hummed. The blue, bristling hairs moved on his impassive face, -and his shaggy mustaches quivered. After he had heard the cook's remark -he continued as calmly and quickly as before: - -"She was older than I, and she began to bore me. Then I must go and -take up with her niece, and she found it out, and turned me out by the -scruff of the neck." - -"And served you right, you did not deserve anything better," said the -cook as easily and smoothly as Yaakov himself. - -The stoker went on, with a lump of sugar in his cheek: - -"I was at a loose end till I came across an old Volodimerzian peddler. -Together we wandered all over the world. We went to the Balkan Hills -to Turkey itself, to Rumania, and to Greece, to different parts of -Austria. We visited every nation. Wherever there were likely to be -buyers, there we went, and sold our goods." - -"And stole others?" asked the cook, gravely. - -"'No? no!' the old man said to me. 'You must act honestly in a strange -land, for they are so strict here, it is said, that they will cut off -your head for a mere nothing.' It is true that I did try to steal, but -the result was not at all consoling. I managed to get a horse away from -the yard of a certain merchant, but I had done no more than that when -they caught me, knocked me about, and dragged me to the police station. -There were two of us. The other was a real horse-stealer, but I did it -only for the fun of the thing. But I had been working at the merchant's -house, putting in a new stove for his bath, and the merchant fell ill, -and had bad dreams about me, which alarmed him, so that he begged the -magistrate, 'Let him go,'--that was me, you know,--'let him go; for -I have had dreams about him, and if you don't let him off, you will -never be well. It is plain that he is a wizard.' That was me, if you -please--a wizard! However, the merchant was a person of influence, and -they let me go." - -"I should not have let you go. I should have let you lie in water for -three days to wash the foolery out of you," said the cook. - -Yaakov instantly seized upon his words. - -"True, there is a lot of folly about me, and that is the fact--enough -folly for a whole village." - -Thrusting his fingers into his tight collar, the cook angrily dragged -it up, and complained in a tone of vexation: - -"Fiddlesticks! How a villain like you can live, gorge himself, drink, -and stroll about the world, beats me. I should like to know what use -you are." - -Munching, the stoker, answered: - -"I don't know myself. I live, and that is all I can say about it. One -man lies down, and another walks about. A _chinovnik_ leads a sedentary -life, but every one must eat." - -The cook was more incensed than ever. - -"You are such a swine that you are absolutely unbearable. Really, pigs' -food--" - -"What are you in such a rage about?" asked Yaakov, surprised. "All men -are acorns from the same oak. But don't you abuse me. It won't make me -any better, you know." - -This man attracted me and held me at once. I gazed at him with -unbounded astonishment, and listened to him with open mouth. I had an -idea that he possessed a deep knowledge of life. He said "thou" to -every one, looked at every one from under his bushy brows with the same -straight and independent glance, and treated every one--the captain, -the steward, and the first-class passengers, who were very haughty--as -if they were the equals of himself, the sailors, the waiters, and the -deck passengers. - -Sometimes he stood before the captain or the chief engineer, with his -ape-like hands clasped behind his back, and listened while they scolded -him for laziness, or for having unscrupulously won money at cards. -He listened, but it was evident that scolding made not the slightest -impression upon him, and that the threats to put him off the boat at -the first stopping-place did not frighten him. There was something -alien about him, as there had been about "Good Business." Evidently he -was aware of his own peculiarities and of the fact that people could -not understand him. - -I never once knew this man to be offended, and, when I think of it, -do not remember that he was ever silent for long. From his rough mouth -and, as it were, despite himself, a stream of words always flowed. -When he was being scolded or when he was listening to some interesting -story, his lips moved just as if he were repeating what he heard to -himself or simply continued speaking quietly to himself. Every day, -when he had finished his watch, he climbed out of the stoke-hole, -barefooted, sweating, smeared with naphtha, in a wet shirt without a -belt, showing his bare chest covered with thick, curly hair, and that -very minute his even, monotonous, deep voice could be heard across the -deck. His words followed one another like drops of rain. - -"Good morning, Mother! Where are you going? To Chistopol? I know it; I -have been there. I lived in the house of a rich Tatar workman; his name -was Usan Gubaildulin. The old man had three wives. A robust man he was, -with a red face, and one of his wives was young. An amu-u-sing little -Tatar girl she was." - -He had been everywhere, and apparently had committed sin with all the -women who had crossed his path. He spoke of every one without malice, -calmly, as he had never in his life been hurt or scolded. In a few -minutes his voice would be heard in the stern. - -"Good people, who will have a game of cards? Just a little flutter, -_ei?_ Cards are a consolation. You can make money sitting down, a -profitable undertaking." - -I noticed that he hardly ever said that anything was good, bad, or -abominable, but always that it was amusing, consoling, or curious. A -beautiful woman was to him an amusing little female. A fine sunny day -was a consoling little day. But more often than anything else he said: - -"I spit upon it!" - -He was looked upon as lazy, but it seemed to me that he performed -his laborious task in that infernal, suffocating, and fetid heat -as conscientiously as any of the others. I never remember that he -complained of weariness or heat, as the other stokers did. - -One day some one stole a purse containing money from one of the old -women passengers. It was a clear, quiet evening; every one was amiable -and peaceably inclined. The captain gave the old woman five rubles. The -passengers also collected a small sum among themselves. When the old -woman was given the money, she crossed herself, and bowed low, saying: - -"Kind friends, you have given me three _greven_ too much." - -Some one cried gayly: - -"Take it all, my good woman,--all that your eyes fall upon. Why do you -talk nonsense? No one can have too much." - -But Yaakov went to the old woman and said quite seriously: - -"Give me what you don't want; I will play cards with it." - -The people around laughed, thinking that the stoker was joking, but he -went on urging the confused woman perseveringly: - -"Come, give it to me, woman! What do you want the money for? To-morrow -you will be in the churchyard." - -They drove him away with abuse, but he said to me, shaking his head, -and greatly surprised: - -"How funny people are! Why do they interfere in what does not concern -them? She said herself that she had more than she wanted. And three -_greven_ would have been very consoling to me." - -The very sight of money evidently pleased him. While he was talking he -loved to clean the silver and brass on his breeches, and would polish -coins till they shone. Moving his eyebrows up and down, he would gaze -at them, holding them in his crooked fingers before his snub-nosed -face. But he was not avaricious. - -One day he asked me to play with him, but I could not. "You don't know -how?" he cried. "How is that? And you call yourself educated! You must -learn. We will play for lumps of sugar." - -He won from me half a pound of the best sugar, and hid every lump in -his furry cheek. As soon as he found that I knew how to play he said: - -"Now we will play seriously for money. Have you any money?" - -"I have five rubles." - -"And I have two." - -As may be imagined, he soon won from me. Desiring to have my revenge, -I staked my jacket, worth five rubles, and lost. Then I staked my new -boots, and lost again. Yaakov said to me, unwillingly, almost crossly: - -"No, you don't know how to play yet; you get too hot about it. You must -go and stake everything, even your boots. I don't care for that sort of -thing. Come, take back your clothes and your money,--four rubles,--and -I will keep a ruble for teaching you. Agreed?" - -I was very grateful to him. - -"It is a thing to spit upon," he said in answer to my thanks. "A game -is a game, just an amusement, you know; but you would turn it into a -quarrel. And even in a quarrel it does n't do to get too warm. You -want to calculate the force of your blows. What have you to get in a -stew about? You are young; you must learn to hold yourself in. The -first time you don't succeed; five times you don't succeed; the seventh -time--spit! Go away, get yourself cool, and have another go! That is -playing the game." - -He delighted me more and more, and yet he jarred on me. Sometimes -his stories reminded me of grandmother. There was a lot in him which -attracted me, but his lifelong habit of dull indifference repelled me -violently. - -Once at sunset a drunken second-class passenger, a corpulent merchant -of Perm, fell overboard, and was carried away, struggling on the -red-gold waterway. The engineers hastily shut off steam, and the boat -came to a standstill, sending off a cloud of foam from the wheel, which -the red beams of the sun made look like blood. In that blood-red, -seething, caldron a dark body struggled, already far away from the -stern of the boat. Wild cries were heard from the river; one's heart -shook. The passengers also screamed, and jostled one another, rolling -about the deck, crowding into the stern. The friend of the drowning -man, also drunk, red, and bald, hit out with his fists and roared: - -"Get out of the way! I will soon get him!" - -Two sailors had already thrown themselves into the water, and were -swimming toward the drowning man. The boats were let down. Amid the -shouts of the commander and the shrieks of the women Yaakov's deep -voice rang out calmly and evenly: - -"He will be drowned; he will certainly be drowned, because he has his -clothes on. Fully dressed as he is, he must certainly drown. Look at -women for example. Why do they always drown sooner than men? Because -of their petticoats. A woman, when she falls into the water, goes -straight to the bottom, like a pound weight. You will see that he will -be drowned. I do not speak at random." - -As a matter of fact, the merchant was drowned. They sought for him for -two hours, and failed to find him. His companion, sobered, sat on the -deck, and, panting heavily, muttered plaintively: - -"We are almost there. What will happen when we arrive, eh? What will -his family say? He had a family." - -Yaakov stood in front of him, with his hands behind his back, and began -to console him. - -"There is nothing to worry about. No one knows when he is destined to -die. One man will eat mushrooms, fall ill and die, while thousands of -people can eat mushrooms and be all the better for them. Yet one will -die. And what are mushrooms?" - -Broad and strong, he stood like a rock in front of the merchant, -and poured his words over him like bran. At first the merchant wept -silently, wiping the tears from his beard with his broad palms, but -when he had heard him out, he roared: - -"What do you mean by torturing me like this? Fellow-Christians, take -him away, or there will be murder!" - -Yaakov went away, calmly saying: - -"How funny people are! You go to them out of kindness, and all they do -is to abuse you!" - -Sometimes I thought the stoker a fool, but more often I thought that -he purposely pretended to be stupid. I asked him straight out about -his youth and his wanderings around the world. The result was not -what I meant it to be. Throwing his head back, almost closing his -dark, copper-colored eyes, he stroked his mossy face with his hand and -drawled: - -"People everywhere, Brother,--everywhere,--are simple as ants! And -where there are people, there is always trouble, I tell you! The -greater number, of course, are peasants. The earth is absolutely -strewn with _muzhiks_,--like autumn leaves, as we say. I have seen the -Bulgars, and Greeks, too, and those--what do you call them?--Serbians; -Rumanians also, and all kinds of Gipsies. Are there many different -sorts? What sort of people? What do you mean by that? In the towns -they are townspeople, and in the country--why, they are just like the -country people among us. They resemble them in many ways. Some of them -even speak our tongue, though badly, as, for instance, the Tatars and -the Mordovans. The Greeks cannot speak our language. They chatter -whatever comes into their heads, and it sounds like words; but what -they say or about what it is impossible to understand. You have to talk -on your fingers to them. But my old man managed to talk so that even -the Greeks understood him. He muttered something, and they knew what he -meant. An artful old man he was. He knew how to work upon them. Again -you want to know what sort of people? You funny fellow! What should -people be like? They were black, of course; and the Rumanians, too, -were of the same faith. The Bulgars are also black, but they hold the -same religion as ourselves. As for the Greeks, they are of the same -race as the Turks." - -It seemed to me that he was not telling me all he knew; that there was -something which he did not wish to tell. From illustrations in the -magazines I knew that the capital of Greece was Athens, an ancient -and most beautiful town. But Yaakov shook his head doubtfully as he -rejected the idea. - -"They have been telling you lies, my friend. There is no place called -Athens, but there is a place called Athon; only it is not a town, but -a hill with a monastery on it, and that is all. It is called the Holy -Hill of Athon. There are pictures of it; the old man used to sell them. -There is a town called Byelgorod, which stands on the Dounai River, -built in the style of Yaroslav or Nijni. Their towns are nothing out of -the ordinary, but their villages, that is another matter. Their women, -too--well, they are absolutely killingly pleasant. I very nearly stayed -there altogether for the sake of one. What the deuce was her name?" - -He rubbed his perspiring face hard with the palms of his hands, and his -coarse hair clicked softly. In his throat, somewhere deep down, rumbled -his laugh, like the rattle of a drum. - -"How forgetful a man can be! And yet, you know, we were--When she said -good-by to me--she cried, and I cried, too. Good--go-o--" Calmly and -with an entire absence of reticence, he began to instruct me in the way -to behave to women. - -We were sitting on the deck. The warm moonlight night swam to meet -us; the meadow-land of the shore was hardly visible beyond the silver -water. In the heavens twinkled yellow lights; these were certain stars -which had been captivated by the earth. All around there was movement, -sleeplessly palpitating, quiet; but real life was going on. Into this -pleasant, melancholy silence fell the hoarse words: - -"And so we let go of each other's hands and parted." - -Yaakov's stories were immodest, but not repulsive, for they were -neither boastful nor cruel, and there was a ring of artlessness and -sorrow in them. The moon in the sky was also shamelessly naked, and -moved me in the same way, setting me fretting for I knew not what. I -remembered only what was good, the very best thing in my life--Queen -Margot and the verses, unforgettable in their truth: - - Only a song has need of beauty, - While beauty has no need of songs. - -Shaking off this dreamy mood as if it had been a light doze, I again -asked the stoker about his life and what he had seen. - -"You 're a funny fellow," he said. "What am I to tell you? I have seen -everything. You ask have I seen a monastery? I have. _Traktirs?_ I have -seen them also. I have seen the life of a gentleman and the life of a -peasant. I have lived well-fed, and I have lived hungry." - -Slowly, as if he were crossing a deep stream by a shaky, dangerous -bridge, he recalled the past. - -"For instance, I was sitting in the police station after the -horse-stealing affair. 'They will send me to Siberia,' I was thinking -when the constable began to rage because the stove in his new house -smoked. I said to him, 'This is a business which I can set right -for you, your Honor,' He shut me up. 'It is a thing,' he grumbled, -'which the cleverest workman could not manage.' Then I said to him, -'Sometimes a shepherd is cleverer than a general.' I felt very brave -toward every one just then. Nothing mattered now, with Siberia before -me. 'All right; try,' he said, 'but if it smokes worse afterwards I -will break all your bones for you.' In two days I had finished the -work. The constable was astonished. '_Ach!_' he cried, 'you fool, you -blockhead! Why, you are a skilled workman, and you steal horses! How is -it?' I said to him, 'That was simply a piece of foolery, your Honor.' -'That's true,' he said, 'it was foolery. I am sorry for you.' 'Yes, I -am sorry,' he repeated. Do you see? A man in the police force, carrying -out his duties without remorse, and yet he was sorry for me." - -"Well, what happened then?" I asked him. - -"Nothing. He was sorry for me. What else should happen?" - -"What was the use of pitying you? You are like a stone." - -Yaakov laughed good-naturedly. - -"Funny fellow! A stone, you say? Well, one may feel for stones. A -stone also serves in its proper place; streets are paved with stones. -One ought to pity all kinds of materials; nothing is in its place by -chance. What is soil? Yet little blades of grass grow in it." - -When the stoker spoke like this, it was quite clear to me that he knew -something more than I could grasp. - -"What do you think of the cook?" I asked him. - -"Of Medvyejenok?" said Yaakov, calmly. "What do I think of him? There -is nothing to think about him at all." - -That was true. Ivan Ivanovich was so strictly correct and smooth that -one's thoughts could get no grip on him. There was only one interesting -thing about him: he loved the stoker, was always scolding him, and yet -always invited him to tea. - -One day he said to him: - -"If you had been my serf and I had been your master, I would have -flogged you seven times each week, you sluggard!" - -Yaakov replied in a serious tone: - -"Seven times? That's rather a lot!" - -Although he abused the stoker, the cook for some reason or other fed -him with all kinds of things. He would throw a morsel to him roughly -and say: - -"There. Gobble it up!" - -Yaakov would devour it without any haste, saying: - -"I am accumulating a reserve of strength through you, Ivan Ivanovich." - -"And what is the use of strength to you, lazy-bones?" - -"What is the use? Why, I shall live all the longer for it." - -"Why should you live, useless one?" - -"But useless people go on living. Besides, you know, it is very amusing -to be alive, is n't it? Living, Ivan Ivanovich, is a very comforting -business." - -"What an idiot!" - -"Why do you say that?" - -"I-di-ot!" - -"There's a way of speaking!" said Yaakov in amazement, and Medvyejenok -said to me: - -"Just think of it! We dry up our blood and roast the marrow out of our -bones in that infernal heat at the stoves while he guzzles like a boar!" - -"Every one must work out his own fate," said the stoker, masticating. - -I knew that to stoke the furnaces was heavier and hotter work than to -stand at the stove, for I had tried several times at night to stoke -with Yaakov, and it seemed strange to me that he did not enlighten -the cook with regard to the heaviness of his labors. Yes, this man -certainly had a peculiar knowledge of his own. - -They all scolded him,--the captain, the engineer, the first mate, -all of those who must have known he was not lazy. I thought it very -strange. Why did they not appraise him rightly? The stokers behaved -considerably better to him than the rest although they made fun of his -incessant chatter and his love of cards. - -I asked them: "What do you think of Yaakov? Is he a good man?" - -"Yaakov? He's all right. You can't upset him whatever you do, even if -you were to put hot coals in his chest." - -What with his heavy labor at the boilers, and his appetite of a horse, -the stoker slept but little. Often, when the watches were changed, -without changing his clothes, sweating and dirty, he stayed the whole -night on deck, talking with the passengers, and playing cards. - -In my eyes he was like a locked trunk in which something was hidden -which I simply must have, and I obstinately sought the key by which I -might open it. - -"What you are driving at, little brother, I cannot, for the life of me, -understand," he would say, looking at me with his eyes almost hidden -under his eyebrows. "It is a fact that I have traveled about the world -a lot. What about it? Funny fellow! You had far better listen to a -story I have to tell you about what happened to me once----" - -And he told me how there had lived, somewhere in one of the towns he -had passed through, a young consumptive lawyer who had a German wife--a -fine, healthy woman, without children. And this German woman was in -love with a dry-goods merchant. The merchant was married, and his wife -was beautiful and had three children. When he discovered that the -German woman was in love with him, he planned to play a practical joke -on her. He told her to meet him in the garden at night, and invited -two of his friends to come with him, hiding them in the garden among -the bushes. - -"Wonderful! When the German woman came, he said, 'Here she is, all -there!' And to her, he said, 'I am no use to you, lady; I am married. -But I have brought two of my friends to you. One of them is a widower, -and the other a bachelor.' The German woman--ach! she gave him such -a slap on the face that he fell over the garden bench, and then she -trampled his ugly mug and his thick head with her heel! I had brought -her there, for I was _dvornik_ at the lawyer's house. I looked -through a chink in the fence, and saw how the soup was boiling. Then -the friends sprang out upon her, and seized her by the hair, and I -dashed over the fence, and beat them off. 'You must not do this, Mr. -Merchants!' I said. The lady had come trustfully, and he had imagined -that she had evil intentions. I took her away, and they threw a brick -at me, and bruised my head. She was overcome with grief, and almost -beside herself. She said to me, as we crossed the yard: 'I shall go -back to my own people, the Germans, as soon as my husband dies!' I said -to her, 'Of course you must go back to them.' And when the lawyer died, -she went away. She was very kind, and so clever, too! And the lawyer -was kind, too,--God rest his soul!" - -Not being quite sure that I had understood the meaning of this story, I -was silent. I was conscious of something familiar, something which had -happened before, something pitiless and blind about it. But what could -I say? - -"Do you think that is a good story?" asked Yaakov. - -I said something, making some confused objections, but he explained -calmly: - -"People who have more than is necessary are easily amused, but -sometimes, when they want to play a trick on some one, it turns out not -to be fun at all. It does n't come off as they expected. Merchants are -brainy people, of course. Commerce demands no little cleverness, and -the life of clever persons is very dull, you see, so they like to amuse -themselves." - -Beyond the prow, all in a foam, the river rushed swiftly. The seething, -running water was audible, the dark shore gliding slowly along with -it. On the deck lay snoring passengers. Among the benches, among the -sleeping bodies, a tall faded woman in a black frock, with uncovered -gray head, moved quietly, coming towards us. The stoker, nudging me, -said softly: - -"Look--she is in trouble!" - -And it seemed to me that other people's griefs were amusing to him. He -told me many stories, and I listened greedily. I remember his stories -perfectly, but I do not remember one of them that was happy. He spoke -more calmly than books. In books, I was often conscious of the feelings -of the writer,--of his rage, his joy, his grief, his mockery; but the -stoker never mocked, never judged. Nothing excited either his disgust -or his pleasure to any extent. He spoke like an impartial witness at -a trial, like a man who was a stranger alike to accuser, accused, -and judge. This equanimity aroused in me an ever-increasing sense of -irritated sorrow, a feeling of angry dislike for Yaakov. - -Life burned before his eyes like the flame of the stove beneath the -boilers. He stood in front of the stove with a wooden mallet in his -pock-marked, coffee-colored hands, and softly struck the edge of the -regulator, diminishing or increasing the heat. - -"Hasn't all this done you harm?" - -"Who would harm me? I am strong. You see what blows I can give!" - -"I am not speaking of blows, but has not your soul been injured?" - -"The soul cannot be hurt. The soul does not receive injuries," he said. -"Souls are not affected by any human agency, by anything external." - -The deck passengers, the sailors, every one, in fact, used to speak of -the soul as often and as much as they spoke of the land, of their work, -of food and women. "Soul" is the tenth word in the speech of simple -people, a word expressive of life and movement. - -I did not like to hear this word so habitually on people's slippery -tongues, and when the peasants used foul language, defiling their -souls, it struck me to the heart. - -I remember so well how carefully grandmother used to speak of the -soul,--that secret receptacle of love, beauty, and joy. I believed -that, after the death of a good person, white angels carried his soul -to the good God of my grandmother, and He greeted it with tenderness. - -"Well, my dear one, my pure one, thou hast suffered and languished -below." - -And He would give the soul the wings of seraphim--six white wings. -Yaakov Shumov spoke of the soul as carefully, as reluctantly, and -as seldom as grandmother. When he was abused, he never blasphemed, -and when others discussed the soul he said nothing, bowing his red, -bull-like neck. When I asked him what the soul was like, he replied: - -"The soul is the breath of God." - -This did not enlighten me much, and I asked for more; upon which the -stoker, inclining his head, said: - -"Even priests do not know much about the soul, little brother; that is -hidden from us." - -He held my thoughts continually, in a stubborn effort to understand -him, but it was an unsuccessful effort. I saw nothing else but him. He -shut out everything else with his broad figure. - -The stewardess bore herself towards me with suspicious kindness. In the -morning, I was deputed to take hot water for washing to her, although -this was the duty of the second-class chambermaid, Lusha, a fresh, -merry girl. When I stood in the narrow cabin, near the stewardess, who -was stripped to the waist, and looked upon her yellow body, flabby -as half-baked pastry, I thought of the lissom, swarthy body of "Queen -Margot," and felt disgusted. And the stewardess talked all the time, -now complainingly and scolding, now crossly and mockingly. - -I did not grasp the meaning of her speech, although I dimly guessed at -it--at its pitiful, low, shameful meaning. But I was not disturbed by -it. I lived far away from the stewardess, and from all that went on in -the boat. I lived behind a great rugged rock, which hid from me all -that world. All that went on during those days and nights flowed away -into space. - -"Our Gavrilovna is quite in love with you." I heard the laughing words -of Lusha as in a dream. "Open your mouth, and take your happiness." - -And not only did she make fun of me, but all the dining-room attendants -knew of the weakness of their mistress. The cook said, with a frown: - -"The woman has tasted everything, and now she has a fancy for pastry! -People like that----! You look, Pyeshkov, before you leap." - -And Yaakov also gave me paternal advice. - -"Of course, if you were a year or two older, I should give you -different advice, but at your age, it is better for you to keep -yourself to yourself. However, you must do as you like." - -"Shut up!" said I. "The whole thing is disgusting." - -"Of course it is." - -But almost immediately after this, trying to make the limp hair on -his head stand up with his fingers, he said tersely, in well-rounded -periods: - -"Well, one must look at it from her point of view, too. She has a -miserable, comfortless job. Even a dog likes to be stroked, and how -much more a human being. A female lives by caresses, as a mushroom by -moisture. She ought to be ashamed of herself, but what is she to do?" - -I asked, looking intently into his elusive eyes: - -"Do you begrudge her that, then?" - -"What is she to me? Is she my mother? And if she were----But you are a -funny fellow!" - -He laughed in a low voice, like the beating of a drum. - -Sometimes when I looked at him, I seemed to be falling into silent -space, into a bottomless pit full of twilight. - -"Every one is married but you, Yaakov. Why have n't you ever married?"' - -"Why? I have always been a favorite with the women, thank God, but it's -like this. When one is married, one has to live in one place, settle -down on the land. My land is very poor, a very small piece, and my -uncle has taken even that from me. When my young brother came back from -being a soldier, he fell out with our uncle, and was brought before -the court for punching his head. There was blood shed over the matter, -in fact. And for that they sent him to prison for a year and a half. -When you come out of prison, son, there is only one road for you; and -that leads back to prison again. His wife was such a pleasant young -woman--but what is the use of talking about it? When one is married, -one ought to be master of one's own stable. But a soldier is not even -master of his own life." - -"Do you say your prayers?" - -"You fun--n--y--y fellow, of course I do!" - -"But how?" - -"All kinds of ways." - -"What prayers do you say?" - -"I know the night prayers. I say quite simply, my brother: 'Lord Jesus, -while I live, have mercy on me, and when I am dead give me rest. Save -me, Lord, from sickness----' and one or two other things I say." - -"What things?" - -"Several things. Even what you don't say, gets to Him." - -His manner to me was kind, but full of curiosity, as it might have been -to a clever kitten which could perform amusing tricks. Sometimes, when -I was sitting with him at night, when he smelt of naphtha, burning oil, -and onions, for he loved onions and used to gnaw them raw, like apples, -he would suddenly ask: - -"Now, Olekha, lad, let's have some poetry." - -I knew a lot of verse by heart, besides which I had a large notebook -in which I had copied my favorites. I read "Rousslan" to him,' and he -listened without moving, like a deaf and dumb man, holding his wheezy -breath. Then he said to me in a low voice: - -"That's a pleasant, harmonious, little story. Did you make it up -yourself? There is a gentleman called Mukhin Pushkin. I have seen him." - -"But this man was killed ever so long ago." - -"What for?" - -I told him the story in short words, as "Queen Margot" had told it to -me. Yaakov listened, and then said calmly: - -"Lots of people are ruined by women." - -I often told him similar stories which I had read in books. They were -all mixed up, effervescing in my mind into one long story of disturbed, -beautiful lives, interspersed with flames of passion. They were full -of senseless deeds of heroism, blue-blooded nobility, legendary feats, -duels and deaths, noble words and mean actions. Rokambol was confused -with the knightly forms of Lya-Molya and Annibal Kokonna, Ludovic XI -took the form of the Père Grandet, the Comet Otletaev was mixed up with -Henry IV. This story, in which I changed the character of the people -and altered events according to my inspiration, became a whole world -to me. I lived in it, free as grand-father's God, Who also played with -every one as it pleased Him. While not hindering me from seeing the -reality, such as it was, nor cooling my desire to understand living -people, nevertheless this bookish chaos hid me by a transparent but -impenetrable cloud from much of the infectious obscenity, the venomous -poison of life. Books rendered many evils innocuous for me. Knowing -how people loved and suffered, I could never enter a house of ill -fame. Cheap depravity only roused a feeling of repulsion and pity for -those to whom it was sweet. Rokambol taught me to be a Stoic, and not -be conquered by circumstances. The hero of Dumas inspired me with the -desire to give myself for some great cause. My favorite hero was the -gay monarch, Henry IV, and it seemed to me that the glorious songs of -B?ranger were written about him. - - He relieved the peasants of their taxes, - And himself he loved to drink. - Yes, and if the whole nation is happy, - Why should the king not drink? - -Henry IV was described in novels as a kind man, in touch with his -people. Bright as the sun, he gave me the idea that France--the most -beautiful country in the whole world, the country of the knights--was -equally great, whether represented by the mantle of a king or the dress -of a peasant. Ange Piutou was just as much a knight as D'Artagnan. When -I read how Henry was murdered, I cried bitterly, and ground my teeth -with hatred of Ravaillac. This king was nearly always the hero of the -stories I told the stoker, and it seemed to me that Yaakov also loved -France and "Khenrik." - -"He was a good man was King 'Khenrik,' whether he was punishing rebels, -or whatever he was doing," he said. - -He never exclaimed, never interrupted my stories with questions, but -listened in silence, with lowered brows and immobile face, like an old -stone covered with fungus growth. But if, for some reason, I broke off -my speech, he at once asked: - -"Is that the end?" - -"Not yet." - -"Don't leave off, then!" - -Of the French nation he said, sighing: - -"They had a very easy time of it!" - -"What do you mean?" - -"Well, you and I have to live in the heat. We have to labor, while they -lived at ease. They had nothing to do but to sing and walk about--a -very consoling life!" - -"They worked, too!" - -"It doesn't say so in your stories," observed the stoker with truth, -and I suddenly realized clearly that the greater number of the books -which I had read hardly ever spoke of the heroes working, or of the -hardships they had to encounter. - -"Now I am going to sleep for a short time," said Yaakov, and falling -back where he lay, he was soon snoring peacefully. - -In the autumn, when the shores of the Kama were turning red, the leaves -were taking a golden tinge, and the crosswise beams of the sun grew -pallid, Yaakov unexpectedly left the boat. The day before, he had said -to me: - -"The day after to-morrow, you and I, my lad, will be in Perm. We will -go to the bath, steam ourselves to our hearts' content, and when we -have finished will go together to a Traktir. There is music and it is -very pleasant. I like to see them playing on those machines." - -But at Sarapulia there came on the boat a stout man with a flabby, -womanish face. He was beardless and whiskerless. His long warm cloak, -his cap with ear flaps of fox fur, increased his resemblance to a -woman. He at once engaged a small table near the kitchen, where it was -warmest, asked for tea to be served to him, and began to drink the -yellow boiling liquid. As he neither unfastened his coat nor removed -his cap, he perspired profusely. - -A fine rain fell unweariedly from the autumn mist. It seemed to me -that when this man wiped the sweat from his face with his checked -handkerchief, the rain fell less, and in proportion as he began to -sweat again, it began to rain harder. - -Very soon Yaakov appeared, and they began to look at a map together. -The passenger drew his finger across it, but Yaakov said: - -"What's that? Nothing! I spit upon it!" - -"All right," said the passenger, putting away the map in a leather bag -which lay on his knees. Talking softly together, they began to drink -tea. - -Before Yaakov went to his watch, I asked him what sort of a man this -was. He replied, with a laugh: - -"To see him, he might be a dove. He is a eunuch, that's what he is. -He comes from Siberia--a long way off! He is amusing; he lives on a -settlement." - -Setting his black strong heels on the deck, like hoofs, once again he -stopped, and scratched his side. - -"I have hired myself to him as a workman. So when we get to Perm, I -shall leave the boat, and it will be good-by to you, lad ? We shall -travel by rail, then by river, and after that by horses. For five weeks -we shall have to travel, to get to where the man has his colony." - -"Did you know him before?" I asked, amazed at his sudden decision. - -"How should I know him? I have never seen him before. I have never -lived anywhere near him." - -In the morning Yaakov, dressed in a short, greasy fur-coat, with -sandals on his bare feet, wearing Medvyejenok's tattered, brimless -straw hat, took hold of my arm with his iron grasp, and said: - -"Why don't you come with me, eh? He will take you as well, that dove, -if you only tell him you want to go. Would you like to? Shall I tell -him? They will take away from you something which you will not need, -and give you money. They make a festival of it when they mutilate a -man, and they reward him for it." - -The eunuch[1] stood on board, with a white bundle under his arm, 2nd -looked stubbornly at Yaakov with his dull eyes, which were heavy and -swollen, like those of a drowned person. I abused him in a low voice, -and the stoker once more took hold of my arm. - -"Let him alone! There's no harm in him. Every one has his own way of -praying. What business is it of ours? Well, good-by. Good luck, to -you!" And Yaakov Shumov went away, rolling from side to side like a -bear, leaving in my heart an uneasy, perplexed feeling. I was sorry -to lose the stoker, and angry with him. I was, I remember, a little -jealous and I thought fearfully, "Fancy a man going away like that, -without knowing where he is going!" - -[Footnote 1: Skoptsi, or eunuchs, form a sect in Russia, or rather -part of the schism known as the Old Believers. Sexual purity being -enjoined on its members, and the practice of it being found to be lax, -mutilation was resorted to.] - -And what sort of a man was he--Yaakov Shumov? - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -Late in the autumn, when the steamboat voyages finished, I went as -pupil in the workshop of an icon painter. But in a day or two my -mistress, a gentle old lady given to tippling, announced to me in her -Vladimirski speech: - -"The days are short now and the evenings long, so you will go to the -shop in the mornings, and be shop-boy. In the evenings you will learn." - -She placed me under the authority of a small, swift-footed shopman, a -young fellow with a handsome, false face. In the mornings, in the cold -twilight of dawn, I went with him right across the town, up the sleepy -mercantile street, Ilnik, to the Nijni bazaar, and there, on the second -floor of the Gostini Dvor, was the shop. It had been converted from a -warehouse into a shop, and was dark, with an iron door, and one small -window on the terrace, protected by iron bars. The shop was packed with -icons of different sizes, with image-cases, and with highly finished -books in church Slav characters, bound in yellow leather. Beside our -shop there was another, in which were also sold icons and books, by -a black-bearded merchant, kinsman to an Old Believer valuer. He was -celebrated beyond the Volga as far as the boundaries of Kirjinski, and -was assisted by his lean and lively son, who had the small gray face -of in old man, and the restless eyes of a mouse. - -When I had opened the shop, I had to run to the tavern for boiling -water, and when I had finished breakfast, I had to set the shop in -order, dust the goods, and then go out on the terrace and watch with -vigilant eyes, lest customers should enter the neighboring shop. - -"Customers are fools," said the shopman forcibly to me. "They don't -mind where they buy, so long as it is cheap, and they do not understand -the value of the goods." - -Lightly tapping the wooden surface of an icon, he aired his slight -knowledge of the business to me. He instructed me: - -"This is a clever piece of work--very cheap--three or four -vershoks--stands by itself. Here is another--six or seven -vershoks--stands by itself. Do you know about the saints? Remember -Boniface is a protection against drink; Vvaara, the great martyr, -against toothache and death by accident; Blessed Vassili, against -fevers. Do you know all about Our Lady? Look! This is Our Lady of -Sorrows, and Our Lady of Abalak, Most Renowned. Do not weep for me, -Mother. Assuage my griefs. Our lady of Kazan, of Pokrove; Our Lady of -Seven Dolors." - -I soon remembered the prices of the icons, according to their size and -the work on them, and learned to distinguish between the different -images of Our Lady. But to remember the significations of the various -saints was difficult. - -Sometimes I would be standing at the door of the shop, dreaming, when -the shopman would suddenly test my knowledge. - -"Who is the deliverer from painful childbirth?" - -If I answered wrongly, he would ask scornfully: - -"What is the use of your head?" - -Harder still was it for me to tout for customers. The hideously painted -icons did not please me at all, and I did not like having to sell them. -According to grandmother's stories, I had imagined Our Lady as young, -beautiful, and good, just as she was in pictures. in the magazines, but -the icons represented her as old and severe, with a long crooked nose, -and wooden hands. - -On market days, Wednesdays and Fridays, business was brisk. Peasants, -old women, and sometimes whole families together, appeared on the -terrace,--all old Ritualists from Zavoljia, suspicious and surly people -of the forests. I would see, perhaps, coming along slowly, almostly -timidly, across the gallery, a ponderous man wrapped in sheepskin and -thick, homemade cloth, and I would feel awkward and ashamed at having -to accost him. At last by a great effort I managed to intercept him, -and revolving about his feet in their heavy boots, I chanted in a -constrained, buzzing voice: - -"What can we do for you, your honor? We have psalters with notes and -comments, the books of Ephrem Siren, Kyrillov, and all the canonical -books and breviaries. Please come and look at them. All kinds of -icons, whatever you want, at various prices. Only the best work,--dark -colors! We take orders, too, if you wish it, for all kinds of saints -and madonnas. Perhaps you would like to order something for a Name Day, -or for your family? This is the best workshop in Russia! Here are the -best goods in the town!" - -The impervious and inscrutable customer would look at me for a long -time in silence. Suddenly pushing me aside with an arm like a piece of -wood, he would go into the shop next door, and my shopman, rubbing his -large ears, grumbled angrily: - -"You have let him go! You're a nice salesman!" - -In the next shop could be heard a soft, sweet voice, pouring forth a -speech which had the effect of a narcotic. - -"We don't sell sheepskins or boots, my friend, but the blessing of -God, which is of more value than silver or gold; which, in fact, is -priceless." - -"The devil!" whispered our shopman, full of envy and almost beside -himself with rage. "A curse on the eyes of that muzhik! You must learn! -You must learn!" - -I did honestly try to learn, for one ought to do well whatever one has -to do. But I was not a success at enticing the customers in, nor as a -salesman. These gruff men, so sparing of their words, those old women -who looked like rats, always for some reason timid and abject, aroused -my pity, and I wanted to tell them on the quiet the real value of the -icons, and not ask for the extra two _greven_. - -They amazed me by their knowledge of books, and of the value of the -painting on the icons. One day a gray-haired old man whom I had herded -into the shop said to me shortly: - -"It is not true, my lad, that your image workshop is the best in -Russia--the best is Rogoshin's in Moscow." - -In confusion I stood aside for him to pass, and he went to another -shop, not even troubling to go next door. - -"Has he gone away?" asked the shopman spitefully. - -"You never told me about Rogoshin's workshop." - -He became abusive. - -"They come in here so quietly, and all the time they know all there is -to know, curse them! They understand all about the business, the dogs!" - -Handsome, overfed, and selfish, he hated the peasants. When he was in a -good humor, he would complain to me: - -"I am clever! I like cleanliness and scents, incense, and -eau-de-Cologne, and though I set such a value on myself, I am obliged -to bow and scrape to some peasant, to get five copecks' profit out of -him for the mistress. Do you think it is fair? What is a peasant, after -all? A bundle of foul wool, a winter louse, and yet----" - -And he fell into an indignant silence. - -I liked the peasants. There was something elusive about each one of -them which reminded me of Yaakov. - -Sometimes there would climb into the shop a miserable-looking figure -in a _chapan_, put on over a short, fur-coat. He would take off his -shaggy cap, cross himself with two fingers, look into the corner where -the lamp glimmered, yet try not to, lest his eyes rest on the unblessed -icons. Then glancing around, without speaking for some time, he would -manage at length to say: - -"Give me a psalter with a commentary." - -Tucking up the sleeves of his _chapan_, he would read the pages, as he -turned them over with clumsy movement, biting his lips the while. - -"Haven't you any more ancient than this?" - -"An old one would cost a thousand rubles, as you know." - -"I know." - -The peasant moistened his finger as he turned over the leaves, and -there was left a dark finger-print where he had touched them. The -shopman, gazing with an evil expression at the back of his head, said: - -"The Holy Scriptures are all of the same age; the word of God does not -change." - -"We know all about that; we have heard that! God did not change it, but -Nikon[1] did." - -Closing the book, he went out in silence. - -[Footnote 1: The Nikonites are the followers of Nikon, patriarch -of Moscow, who objected to the innovation of Peter the Great in -suppressing the patriarchate of Moscow, and establishing a State Church -upon the lines of the old patriarchal church. They are also termed the -Old Believers, who are split up into several extraordinary schisms -which existed before and after the suppression of the patriarchate, but -who, in the main, continue their orthodoxy.] - -Sometimes these forest people disputed with the shopman, and it was -evident to me that they knew more about the sacred writings than he did. - -"Outlandish heathen!" grumbled the shopman. - -I saw also that, although new books were not to the taste of the -peasants, they looked upon a new book with awe, handling it carefully, -as if it were a bird which might fly out of their hands. This was very -pleasant to me to see, because a book was a miracle to me. In it was -inclosed the soul of the writer, and when I opened it, I set this soul -free, and it spoke to me in secret. - -Often old men and women brought books to sell printed in the old -characters of the pre-Nikonovski period, or copies of such books, -beautifully made by the monks of Irgiz and Kerjentz. They also brought -copies of missals uncorrected by Dmitry Rostovski, icons with ancient -inscriptions, crosses, folding icons with brass mountings, and silver, -eucharist spoons given by the Muscovite princes to their hosts as -keepsakes. All these were offered secretly, from their hoards under the -floor. - -Both my shopman and his neighbor kept a very sharp lookout for such -vendors, each trying to take them away from the other. Having bought -antiques for anything up to ten rubles, they would sell them on the -market-place to rich Old Ritualists for hundreds of rubles. - -"Mind you look out for those were-wolves, those wizards! Look for them -with all your eyes; they bring luck with them." - -When a vendor of this kind appeared, the shopman used to send me to -fetch the valuer, Petr Vassilich, a connoisseur in old books, icons, -and all kind of antiques. - -He was a tall old man with a long beard, like Blessed Vassili, with -intelligent eyes in a pleasant face. The tendon of one of his legs -had been removed, and he walked lame, with a long stick. Summer and -winter he wore a light garment, like a cassock, and a velvet cap of a -strange shape, which looked like a saucepan. Usually brisk and upright, -when he entered the shop, he let his shoulders droop, and bent his -back, sighing gently and crossing himself often, muttering prayers and -psalms to himself all the time. This pious and aged feebleness at once -inspired the vendor with confidence in the valuer. - -"What is the matter? Has something gone wrong?" the old man would ask. - -"Here is a man who has brought an icon to sell. He says it is a -Stroganovski." - -"What!" - -"A Stroganovski." - -"Aha, my hearing is bad. The Lord has stopped my ears against the -abomination of the Nikonites." - -Taking off his cap, he held the icon horizontally, looked at the -inscription lengthways, sideways, straight up, examined the knots in -the wood, blinked, and murmured: - -"The godless Nikonites, observing our love of ancient beauties, and -instructed by the devil, have maliciously made forgeries. In these days -it is very easy to make holy images,--oh, very easy! At first sight, -this might be a real Stroganovski, or an Ustiujcki painting, or even a -Suzdulski, but when you look into it, it is a forgery." - -If he said "forgery," it meant, "This icon is precious and rare." - -By a series of pre-arranged signs, he informed the shopman how much he -was to give for the icon or book. I knew that the words "melancholy" -and "affliction" meant ten rubles. "Nikon the tiger" meant twenty-five. -I felt ashamed to see how they deceived the sellers, but the skilful -by-play of the valuer amused me. - -"Those Nikonites, black children of Nikon the tiger, will do -anything,--led by the Devil as they are! Look! Even this signature -looks real, and the bas-relief as if it were painted by the one hand. -But look at the face--that was not done by the same brush. An old -master like Pimen Ushakov, although he was a heretic, did the whole -icon himself. He did the bas-relief, the face, and even the chasing -very carefully, and sketched in the inscription, but the impious people -of our day cannot do anything like it! In old times image painting was -a holy calling, but now they make what concerns God merely a matter of -art." - -At length he laid the icon down carefully on the counter, and putting -on his hat, said: - -"It is a sin!" - -This meant "buy it." - -Overwhelmed by his flow of sweet words, astounded by the old man's -knowledge, the client would ask in an impressed tone: - -"Well, your honor, what is your opinion of the icon?" - -"The icon was made by Nikonite hands." - -"That cannot be! My grandfather and my grandmother prayed before it!" - -"Nikon lived before your grandfather lived." - -The old man held the icon close to the face of the seller, and said -sternly: - -"Look now what a joyous expression it has! Do you call that an icon? -It is nothing more than a picture--a blind work of art, a Nikonski -joke--there is no soul in it! Would I tell you what is not true? I, an -old man, persecuted for the sake of the truth! I shall soon have to go -to God. I have nothing to gain by acting unfairly." - -He went out from the shop onto the terrace, languid with the feebleness -of old age, offended by the doubt cast upon his valuation. The shopman -paid a few rubles for the picture, the seller left, bowing low to Petr -Vassilich, and they sent me to the tavern to get boiling water for -the tea. When I returned, I would find the valuer brisk and cheerful, -looking lovingly at the purchase, and thus instructing the shopman: - -"Look, this icon has been very carefully done! The painting is very -fine, done in the fear of God. Human feelings had no part in it." - -"And whose work is it?" asked the shopman, beaming and jumping about -for joy. - -"It is too soon for you to know that." - -"But how much would connoisseurs give for it?" "That I could not say. -Give it to me, and I will show it to some one." - -"Och, Petr Vassilich." - -"And if I sell it, you shall have half the hundred rubles. Whatever -there is over, that is mine!" - -"Och!" - -"You need not keep on saying 'Och'!" - -They drank their tea, bargaining shamelessly, looking at one another -with the eyes of conspirators. That the shopman was completely under -the thumb of the old man was plain, and when the latter went away, he -would say to me: - -"Now don't you go chattering to the mistress about this deal." - -When they had finished talking about the sale of the icon, the shopman -would ask: - -"And what news is there in the town, Petr Vassilich?" - -Smoothing his beard with his yellow fingers, laying bare his oily lips, -the old man told stories of the lives of the merchants. He spoke of -commercial successes, of feasts, of illnesses, of weddings, and of the -infidelities of husbands and wives. He served up these greasy stories -quickly and skilfully, as a good cook serves up pancakes, with a sauce -of hissing laughter. The shopman's round face grew dark with envy -and rapture. His eyes were wide with dreamy wistfulness, as he said -complainingly: - -"Other people live, and here am I!" - -"Every one has his appointed destiny," resounded the deep voice. "Of -one, the fate is heralded by angels with little silver hammers, and of -another, by devils with the butt-end of an ax." - -This strong, muscular, old man knew everything--the whole life of -the town, all the secrets of the merchants, chinovniks, priests, and -citizens. He was keensighted as a bird of prey, and with this had some -of the qualities of the wolf and fox. I always wanted to make him -angry, but he looked at me from afar, almost as if through a fog. He -seemed to me to be surrounded by a limitless space. If one went closer -to him, one seemed to be falling. I felt in him some affinity to the -stoker Shumov. - -Although the shopman went into ecstasies over his cleverness, both to -his face and behind his back, there were times when, like me, he wanted -to provoke or offend the old man. - -"You are a deceiver of men," he would say, suddenly looking heatedly -into the old man's face. - -The latter, smiling lazily, answered: - -"Only the Lord lives without deceit, and we live among fools, you see. -Can one meet fools, and not deceive them? Of what use would they be, -then?" - -The shopman lost his temper. - -"Not all the peasants are fools. The merchants themselves came from the -peasantry!" - -"We are not talking about merchants. Fools do not live as rogues do. A -fool is like a saint--his brains are asleep." - -The old man drawled more and more lazily, and this was very irritating. -It seemed to me that he was standing on a hillock in the midst of a -quagmire. It was impossible to make him angry. Either he was above -rage, or he was able to hide it very successfully. - -But he often happened to be the one to start a dispute with me. He -would come quite close to me, and smiling into his beard, remark: - -"What do you call that French writer--Ponoss?" I was desperately angry -at this silly way of turning the names upside down. But holding myself -in for the time, I said: - -"Ponson de Terrail." - -"Where was he lost?"[1] - -"Don't play the fool. You are not a child." "That is true. I am not a -child. What are you reading?" - -"'Ephrem Siren.'" - -"And who writes best. Your foreign authors? or he?" - -I made no reply. - -"What do the foreign ones write about most?" - -"About everything which happens to exist in life." - -[Footnote 1: Terryat in Russian means "to lose."] - -"That is to say, about dogs and horses--whichever may happen to come -their way." - -The shopman laughed. I was enraged. The atmosphere was oppressive, -unpleasant to me. But if I attempted to get away, the shopman stopped -me. - -"Where are you going?" - -And the old man would examine me. - -"Now, you learned man, gnaw this problem. Suppose you had a thousand -naked people standing before you, five hundred women and five hundred -men, and among them Adam and Eve. How would you tell which were Adam -and Eve?" - -He kept asking me this, and at length explained triumphantly: - -"Little fool, don't you see that, as they were not born, but were -created, they would have no navels!" The old man knew an innumerable -quantity of these "problems." He could wear me out with them. - -During my early days at the shop, I used to tell the shopman the -contents of some of the books I had read. Now these stories came back -to me in an evil form. The shopman retold them to Petr Vassilich, -considerably cut up, obscenely mutilated. The old man skilfully helped -him in his shameful questions. Their slimy tongues threw the refuse of -their obscene words at Eugénie Grandet, Ludmilla, and Henry IV. - -I understood that they did not do this out of ill-nature, but simply -because they wanted something to do. All the same, I did not find it -easy to bear. - -Having created the filth, they wallowed in it, like hogs, and -grunted with enjoyment when they soiled what was beautiful, strange, -unintelligible, and therefore comical to them. - -The whole Gostinui Dvor, the whole of its population of merchants and -shopmen, lived a strange life, full of stupid, puerile, and always -malicious diversions. If a passing peasant asked which was the nearest -way to any place in the town, they always gave him the wrong direction. -This had become such a habit with them that the deceit no longer gave -them pleasure. They would catch two rats, tie their tails together, and -let them go in the road. They loved to see how they pulled in different -directions, or bit each other, and sometimes they poured paraffin-oil -over the rats, and set fire to them. They would tie an old iron pail on -the tail of a dog, who, in wild terror, would tear about, yelping and -growling, while they all looked on, and laughed. - -There were many similar forms of recreation, "and it seemed to me that -all kinds of people, especially country people, existed simply for the -amusement of the Gostinui Dvor. In their relations to other people, -there was a constant desire to make fun of them, to give them pain, and -to make them uncomfortable. It was strange that the books I had read -were silent on the subject of this unceasing, deep-seated tendency of -people to jeer at one another. - -One of the amusements of the Gostinui Dvor seemed to me peculiarly -offensive and disgusting. - -Underneath our shop there was a dealer in woolen and felt footwear, -whose salesman amazed the whole of Nijni by his gluttony. His master -used to boast of this peculiarity of his employee, as one boasts of the -fierceness of a dog, or the strength of a horse. He often used to get -the neighboring shopkeepers to bet. - -"Who will go as high as ten rubles? I will bet that Mishka devours, ten -pounds of ham in two hours!" - -But they all knew that Mishka was well able to do that, and they said: - -"We won't take your bet, but buy the ham and let him eat it, and we -will look on." - -"Only let it be all meat and no bones!" - -They would dispute a little and lazily, and then out of the dark -storehouse crept a lean, beardless fellow with high cheek-bones, in -a long cloth coat girdled with a red belt all stuck round with tufts -of wool. Respectfully removing his cap from his small head, he gazed -in silence, with a dull expression in his deep-set eyes, at the round -face of his master which was suffused with purple blood. The latter was -saying in his thick harsh voice: - -"Can you eat a gammon of ham?" - -"How long shall I have for it?" asked Mishka practically, in his thin -voice. - -"Two hours." - -"That will be difficult." - -"Where is the difficulty?" - -"Well, let me have a drop of beer with it." - -"All right," said his master, and he would boast: - -"You need not think that he has an empty stomach. No! In the morning he -had two pounds of bread, and dinner at noon, as you know." - -They brought the ham, and the spectators took their places. All the -merchants were tightly enveloped in their thick fur-coats and looked -like gigantic weights. They were people with big stomachs, but they all -had small eyes and some had fatty tumors. An unconquerable feeling of -boredom oppressed them all. - -With their hands tucked into their sleeves, they surrounded the great -glutton in a narrow circle, armed with knives and large crusts of rye -bread. He crossed himself piously, sat down on a sack of wool and -placed the ham on a box at his side, measuring it with his vacant eyes. - -Cutting off a thin slice of bread and a thick one of meat, the glutton -folded them together carefully, and held the sandwich to his mouth -with both hands. His lips trembled; he licked them with his thin and -long canine tongue, showing his small sharp teeth, and with a dog-like -movement bent his snout again over the meat. - -"He has begun!" - -"Look at the time!" - -All eyes were turned in a business-like manner on the face of the -glutton, on his lower jaw, on the round protuberances near his ears; -they watched the sharp chin rise and fall regularly, and drowsily -uttered their thoughts. - -"He eats cleanly--like a bear." - -"Have you ever seen a bear eat?" - -"Do I live in the woods? There is a saying, 'he gobbles like a bear.'" - -"Like a pig, it says." - -"Pigs don't eat pig." - -They laughed unwillingly, and soon some one knowingly said: - -"Pigs eat everything--little pigs and their own sisters." - -The face of the glutton gradually grew darker, his ears became livid, -his running eyes crept out of their bony pit, he breathed with -difficulty, but his chin moved as regularly as ever. - -"Take it easy, Mikhail, there is time!" they encouraged him. - -He uneasily measured the remains of the meat with his eyes, drank -some beer, and once more began to munch. The spectators became more -animated. Looking more often at the watch in the hand of Mishka's -master, they suggested to one another: - -"Don't you think he may have put the watch back? Take it away from him! -Watch Mishka in case he should put any meat up his sleeve! He won't -finish it in the time!" - -Mishka's master cried passionately: - -"I'll take you on for a quarter of a ruble! Mishka, don't give way!" - -They began to dispute with the master, but no one would take the bet. - -And Mishka went on eating and eating; his face began to look like the -ham, his sharp grisly nose whistled plaintively. It was terrible to -look at him. It seemed to me that he was about to scream, to wail: - -"Have mercy on me!" - -At length he finished it all, opened his tipsy eyes wide, and said in a -hoarse, tired voice: - -"Let me go to sleep." - -But his master, looking at his watch, cried angrily: - -"You have taken four minutes too long, you wretch!" - -The others teased him: - -"What a pity we did not take you on; you would have lost." - -"However, he is a regular wild animal, that fellow." - -"Ye--e--es, he ought to be in a show." - -"You see what monsters the Lord can make of men, eh?" - -"Let us go and have some tea, shall we?" - -And they swam like barges to the tavern. - -I wanted to know what stirred in the bosoms of these heavy, -iron-hearted people that they should gather round the poor fellow -because his unhealthy gluttony amused them. - -It was dark and dull in that narrow gallery closely packed with wool, -sheepskins, hemp, ropes, felt, boots, and saddlery. It was cut off. -from the pavement by pillars of brick, clumsily thick, weather-beaten, -and spattered with mud from the road. All the bricks and all the chinks -between them, all the holes made by the fallen-away mortar, had been -mentally counted by me a thousand times, and their hideous designs were -forever heavily imprinted on my memory. - -The foot-passenger dawdled along the pavement; hackney carriages and -sledges loaded with goods passed up the road without haste. Beyond the -street, in a red-brick, square, two-storied shop, was the marketplace, -littered with cases, straw, crumpled paper, covered with dirt and -trampled snow. - -All this, together with the people and the horses, in spite of the -movement, seemed to be motionless, or lazily moving round and round -in one place to which it was fastened by invisible chains. One felt -suddenly that this life was almost devoid of sound, or so poor in -sounds that it amounted to dumbness. The sides of the sledges squeaked, -the doors of the shops slammed, sellers of pies and honey cried their -wares, but their voices sounded unhappy, unwilling. They were all -alike; one quickly became used to them, and ceased to pay attention to -them. - -The church-bells tolled funerally. That melancholy sound was always in -my ears. It seemed to float in the air over the market-place without -ceasing from morning to night; it was mingled with all my thoughts and -feelings; it lay like a copper veneer over all my impressions. - -Tedium, coldness, and want breathed all around: from the earth covered -with dirty snow, from the gray snow-drift on the roof, from the -flesh-colored bricks of the buildings; tedium rose from the chimneys -in a thick gray smoke, and crept up to the gray, low, empty sky; with -tedium horses sweated and people sighed. They had a peculiar smell of -their own, these people--the oppressive dull smell of sweat, fat, hemp -oil, hearth-cakes, and smoke. It was an odor which pressed upon one's -head like a warm close-fitting cap, and ran down into one's breast, -arousing a strange feeling of intoxication, a vague desire to shut -one's eyes, to cry out despairingly, to run away somewhere and knock -one's head against the first wall. - -I gazed into the faces of the merchants, over-nourished, full-blooded, -frost-bitten, and as immobile as if they were asleep. These people -often yawned, opening their mouths like fish which have been cast on -dry land. - -In winter, trade was slack and there was not in the eyes of the dealer -that cautious, rapacious gleam which somehow made them bright and -animated in the summer. The heavy fur coats hampered their movements, -bowed them to the earth. As a rule they spoke lazily, but when they -fell into a passion, they grew vehement. I had an idea that they did -this purposely, in order to show one another that they were alive. - -It was perfectly clear to me that tedium weighed upon them, was killing -them, and the unsuccessful struggle against its overwhelming strength -was the only explanation I could give of their cruelty and senseless -amusements at the expense of others. - -Sometimes I discussed this with Petr Vissilich. - -Although as a rule he behaved to me scornfully and jeeringly, he liked -me for my partiality for books, and at times he permitted himself to -talk to me instructively, seriously. - -"I don't like the way these merchants live," I said. - -Twisting a strand of his beard in his long fingers, he said: - -"And how do you know how they live? Do you then often visit them at -their houses? This is merely a street, my friend, and people do not -live in a street; they simply buy and sell, and they get through that -as quickly as they can, and then go home again! People walk about the -streets with their clothes on, and you do not know what they are like -under their clothes. What a man really is is seen in his own home, -within his own four walls, and how he lives there--that you know -nothing about!" - -"Yes, but they have the same ideas whether they are here or at home, -don't they?" - -"And how can any one know what ideas his neighbors have?" said the old -man, making his eyes round. "Thoughts are like lice; you cannot count -them. It may be that a man, on going to his home, falls on his knees -and, weeping, prays to God: 'Forgive me, Lord, I have defiled Thy holy -day!' It may be that his house is a sort of monastery to him, and he -lives there alone with his God. You see how it is! Every spider knows -its own corner, spins its own web, and understands its own position, so -that it may hold its own." - -When he spoke seriously, his voice went lower and lower to a deep -base, as if he were communicating secrets. - -"Here you are judging others, and it is too soon for you; at your age -one lives not by one's reason but by one's eyes. What you must do is -to look, remember, and hold your tongue. The mind is for business, but -faith is for the soul. It is good for you to read books, but there must -be moderation in all things, and some have read themselves into madness -and godlessness." - -I looked upon him as immortal; it was hard for me to believe that he -might grow older and change. He liked to tell stories about merchants -and coiners who had become notorious. I had heard many such stories -from grandfather, who told them better than the valuer, but the -underlying theme was the same--that riches always lead to sin towards -God and one's fellow-creatures. Petr Vassilich had no pity for human -creatures, but he spoke of God with warmth of feeling, sighing and -covering his eyes. - -"And so they try to cheat God, and He, the Lord Jesus Christ, sees it -all and weeps. 'My people, my people, my unhappy people, hell is being -prepared for you!'" - -Once I jokingly reminded him: - -"But you cheat the peasants yourself." - -He was not offended by this. - -"Is that a great matter as far as I am concerned?" he said. "I may rob -them of from three to five rubles, and that is all it amounts to!" - -When he found me reading, he would take the book out of my hands and -ask me questions about what I had read, in a fault-finding manner. With -amazed incredulity he would say to the shopman: - -"Just look at that now; he understands books, the young rascal!" - -And he would give me a memorable, intelligent lecture: - -"Listen to what I tell you now; it is worth your while. There were -two Kyrills, both of them bishops; one Kyrill of Alexandria, and the -other Kyrill of Jerusalem. The first warred against the cursed heretic, -Nestorius, who taught obscenely that Our Lady was born in original sin -and therefore could not have given birth to God; but that she gave -birth to a human being with the name and attributes of the Messiah, -the Saviour of the world, and therefore she should be called not the -God-Bearer, but the Christ-Bearer. Do you understand? That is called -heresy! And Kyrill of Jerusalem fought against the Arian heretics." - -I was delighted with his knowledge of church history, and he, stroking -his beard with his well-cared-for, priest-like hands, boasted: - -"I am a past master in that sort of thing. When I was in Moscow, I -was engaged in a verbal debate against the poisonous doctrines of the -Nikonites, with both priests and seculars. I, my little one, actually -conducted discussions with professors, yes! To one of the priests I so -drove home the verbal scourge that his nose bled infernally, that it -did!" - -His cheeks were flushed; his eyes shone. - -The bleeding of the nose of his opponent was evidently the highest -point of his success, in his opinion; the highest ruby in the golden -crown of his glory, and he told the story voluptuously. - -"A ha--a--andsome, wholesome-looking priest he was! He stood on the -platform and drip, drip, the blood came from his nose. He did not see -his shame. Ferocious was the priest as a desert lion; his voice was -like a bell. But very quietly I got my words in between his ribs, -like saws. He was really as hot as a stove, made red-hot by heretical -malice--ekh--that was a business!" - -Occasionally other valuers came. These were Pakhomi, a man with a fat -belly, in greasy clothes, with one crooked eye who was wrinkled and -snarling; Lukian, a little old man, smooth as a mouse, kind and brisk; -and with him came a big, gloomy man looking like a coachman, black -bearded, with a deathlike face, unpleasant to look upon, but handsome, -and with eyes which never seemed to move. Almost always they brought -ancient books, icons and thuribles to sell, or some kind of bowl. -Sometimes they brought the vendors--an old man or woman from the Volga. -When their business was finished, they sat on the counter, looking just -like crows on a furrow, drank tea with rolls and lenten sugar, and told -each other about the persecutions of the Nikonites. - -Here a search had been made, and books of devotion had been -confiscated; there the police had closed a place of worship, and had -contrived to bring its owner to justice under Article 103. This Article -103 was frequently the theme of their discussions, but they spoke of -it calmly, as of something unavoidable, like the frosts of winter. -The words police, search, prison, justice, Siberia--these words, -continually recurring in their conversations about the persecutions for -religious beliefs, fell on my heart like hot coals, kindling sympathy -and fellow feeling for these Old Believers. Reading had taught me to -look up to people who were obstinate in pursuing their aims, to value -spiritual steadfastness. - -I forgot all the bad which I saw in these teachers of life. I felt only -their calm stubbornness, behind which, it seemed to me, was hidden an -unwavering belief in the teachings of their faith, for which they were -ready to suffer all kinds of torments. - -At length, when I had come across many specimens of these guardians -of the old faith, both among the people and among the intellectuals, -I understood that this obstinacy was the oriental passivity of people -who never moved from the place whereon they stood, and had no desire -to move from it, but were bound by strong ties to the ways of the old -words, and worn-out ideas. They were steeped in these words and ideas. -Their wills were stationary, incapable of looking forward, and when -some blow from without cast them out of their accustomed place, they -mechanically and without resistance let themselves roll down, like -a stone off a hill. They kept their own fasts in the graveyards of -lived-out truths, with a deadly strength of memory for the past, and -an insane love of suffering and persecution; but if the possibility of -suffering were taken away from them, they faded away, disappeared like -a cloud on a fresh winter day. - -The faith for which they, with satisfaction and great self-complacency, -were ready to suffer is incontestably a strong faith, but it resembles -well-worn clothes, covered with all kinds of dirt, and for that very -reason is less vulnerable to the ravages of time. Thought and feeling -become accustomed to the narrow and oppressive envelope of prejudice -and dogma, and although wingless and mutilated, they live in ease and -comfort. - -This belief founded on habits is one of the most grievous and harmful -manifestations of our lives. Within the domains of such beliefs, as -within the shadows of stone walls, anything new is born slowly, is -deformed, and grows anaemic. In that dark faith there are very few of -the beams of love, too many causes of offense, irritations, and petty -spites which are always friendly with hatred. The flame of that faith -is the phosphorescent gleam of putrescence. - -But before I was convinced of this, I had to live through many weary -years, break up many images in my soul, and cast them out of my memory. -But at the time when I first came across these teachers of life, in the -midst of tedious and sordid realities, they appeared to me as persons -of great spiritual strength, the best people in the world. Almost -every one of them had been persecuted, put in prison, had been banished -from different towns, traveling by stages with convicts. They all lived -cautious, hidden lives. - -However, I saw that while pitying the "narrow spirit" of the Nikonites, -these old people willingly and with great satisfaction kept one another -within narrow bounds. - -Crooked Pakhomie, when he had been drinking, liked to boast of his -wonderful memory with regard to matters of the faith. He had several -books at his finger-ends, as a Jew has his Talmud. He could put his -finger on his favorite page, and from the word on which he had placed -his finger, Pakhomie could go on reciting by heart in his mild, -snuffling voice. He always looked on the floor, and his solitary eye -ran over the floor disquietingly, as if he were seeking some lost and -very valuable article. - -The book with which he most often performed this trick was that of -Prince Muishetzki, called "The Russian Vine," and the passage he best -knew was, "The long suffering and courageous suffering of wonderful and -valiant martyrs," but Petr Vassilitch was always trying to catch him in -a mistake. - -"That's a lie! That did not happen to Cyprian the Mystic, but to Denis -the Chaste." - -"What other Denis could it be? You are thinking of Dionysius." - -"Don't shuffle with words!" - -"And don't you try to teach me!" - -In a few moments both, swollen with rage, would be looking fixedly at -one another, and saying: - -"Perverter of the truth! Away, shameless one!" - -Pakhomie answered, as if he were adding up accounts: - -"As for you, you are a libertine, a goat, always hanging round the -women." - -The shopman, with his hands tucked into his sleeves, smiled -maliciously, and, encouraging the guardians of the ancient religion, -cried, just like a small boy: - -"Th--a--at's right! Go it!" - -One day when the old men were quarreling, Petr Vassilitch slapped his -comrade on the face with unexpected swiftness, put him to flight, and, -wiping the sweat from his face, called after the fugitive: - -"Look out; that sin lies to your account! You led my hand into sin, you -accursed one; you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" - -He was especially fond of reproaching his comrades in that they were -wanting in firm faith, and predicting that they would fall away into -"Protestantism." - -"That is what troubles you, Aleksasha--the sound of the cock crowing!" - -Protestantism worried and apparently frightened him, but to the -question, "What is the doctrine of that sect?" he answered, not very -intelligibly: - -"Protestantism is the most bitter heresy; it acknowledges reason alone, -and denies God! Look at the Bible Christians, for example, who read -nothing but the Bible, which came from a German, from Luther, of whom -it was said: He was rightly called Luther, for if you make a verb of -it, it runs: Lute bo, lubo luto![1] And all that comes from the west, -from the heretics of that part of the world." - -Stamping his mutilated foot, he would say coldly and heavily: - -"Those are they whom the new Ritualists will have to drive out, whom -they will have to watch,--yes, and burn too! But not us--we are of the -true faith. Eastern, we are of the faith, the true, eastern, original -Russian faith, and all the others are of the west, spoiled by free -will! What good has ever come from the Germans, or the French? Look -what they did in the year 12--." - -Carried away by his feelings, he forgot that it was a boy who stood -before him, and with his strong hands he took hold of me by the belt, -now drawing me to him, now pushing me away, as he spoke beautifully, -emotionally, hotly, and youthfully: - -"The mind of man wanders in the forest of its own thoughts. Like a -fierce wolf it wanders, the devil's assistant, putting the soul of man, -the gift of God, on the rack! What have they imagined, these servants -of the devil? The Bogomuili,[2] through whom Protestantism came, taught -thus: Satan, they say, is the son of God, the elder brother of Jesus -Christ, That is what they have come to! They taught people also not -to obey their superiors, not to work, to abandon wife and children; a -man needs nothing, no property whatever in his life; let him live as he -chooses, and the devil shows him how. That Aleksasha has turned up here -again." - -[Footnote 1: From Lutui which means hard, violent.] - -[Footnote 2: Another sect of Old Believers.] - - -At this moment the shopman set me to do some work, and I left the old -man alone in the gallery, but he went on talking to space: - -"O soul without wings! O blind-born kitten, whither shall I run to get -away from you?" - -And then, with bent head and hands resting on his knees, he fell into a -long silence, gazing, intent and motionless, up at the gray winter sky. - -He began to take more notice of me, and his manner was kinder. When he -found me with a book, he would glance over my shoulder, and say: - -"Read, youngster, read; it is worth your while! It may be that you are -clever; it is a pity that you think so little of your elders. You can -stand up to any one, you think, but where will your sauciness land you -in the end? It will lead you nowhere, youngster, but to a convict's -prison. Read by all means; but remember that books are books, and use -your own brains! Danilov, the founder of the Xlist sect, came to the -conclusion that neither old nor new books were necessary, and he put -them all in a sack, and threw them in the water. Of course that was -a stupid thing to do, but----And now that cur, Aleksasha, must come -disturbing us." - -He was always talking about this Aleksasha, and one day he came into -the shop, looking preoccupied and stem, and explained to the shopman: - -"Aleksander Vassiliev is here in the town; he came yesterday. I have -been looking for him for a long time, but he has hidden himself -somewhere!" - -The shopman answered in an unfriendly tone: - -"I don't know anything about him!" - -Bending his head, the old man said: - -"That means that for you, people are either buyers or sellers, and -nothing more! Let us have some tea." - -When I brought in the big copper tea-pot, there were visitors in the -shop. There was old Lukian, smiling happily, and behind the door in a -dark corner sat a stranger dressed in a dark overcoat and high felt -boots, with a green belt, and a cap set clumsily over his brows. His -face was indistinct, but he seemed to be quiet and modest, and he -looked somewhat like a shopman who had just lost his place and was very -dejected about it. - -Petr Vassilich, not glancing in his direction, said something sternly -and ponderously, and he pulled at his cap all the time, with a -convulsive movement of his right hand. He would raise his hand as if -he were about to cross himself, and push his cap upwards, and he would -do this until he had pushed it as far back as his crown, when he would -again pull it over his brows. That convulsive movement reminded me of -the mad beggar, Igosha, "Death in his pocket." - -"Various kinds of reptiles swim in our muddy rivers, and make the -water more turbid than ever," said Petr Vassilich. - -The man who resembled a shopman asked quietly and gently: - -"Do you mean that for me?" - -"And suppose I do mean it for you?" - -Then the man asked again, not loudly but very frankly: - -"Well, and what have you to say about yourself, man?" - -"What I have to say about myself, I say to God--that is my business." - -"No, man, it is mine also," said the new-comer solemnly and firmly. -"Do not turn away your face from the truth, and don't blind -yourself deliberately; that is the great sin towards God and your -fellow-creatures----" - -I liked to hear him call Petr Vassilich "man," and his quiet, solemn -voice stirred me. He spoke as a good priest reads, "Lord and Master of -my life," and bending forward, got off his chair, spreading his hands -before his face: - -"Do not judge me; my sins are not more grievous than yours." - -The samovar boiled and hissed, the old valuer spoke contemptuously, and -the other continued, refusing to be stopped by his words: - -"Only God knows who most befouls the source of the Holy Spirit. It -may be your sin, you book-learned, literary people. As for me, I am -neither book-learned nor literary; I am a man of simple life." - -"We know all about your simplicity--we have heard of it--more than we -want to hear!" - -"It is you who confuse the people; you break up the true faith, you -scribes and Pharisees. I--what shall I say? Tell me--" - -"Heresy," said Petr Vassilich. The man held his hands before his face, -just as if he were reading something written on them, and said warmly: -"Do you think that to drive people from one hole to another is to do -better than they? But I say no! I say: Let us be free, man! What is the -good of a house, a wife, and all your belongings, in the sight of God? -Let us free ourselves, man, from all that for the sake of which men -fight and tear each other to pieces--from gold and silver and all kinds -of property, which brings nothing but corruption and uncleanness! Not -on earthly fields is the soul saved, but in the valleys of paradise! -Tear yourself away from it all, I say; break all ties, all cords; break -the nets of this world. They are woven by antichrist. I am going by the -straight road; I do not juggle with my soul'; the dark world has no -part in me." - -"And bread, water, clothes--do you have any part in them? They are -worldly, you know," said the valuer maliciously. - -But these words had no effect on Aleksander. He talked all the more -earnestly, and although his voice was so low, it had the sound of a -brass trumpet. - -"What is dear to you, man? The one God only should be dear to you. I -stand before Him, cleansed from every stain. Remove the ways of earth -from your heart and see God; you alone--He alone! So you will draw near -to God; that is the only road to Him. That is the way of salvation--to -leave father and mother--to leave all, and even thine eye, if it tempts -thee--pluck it out! For God's sake tear yourself from things and save -your soul; take refuge in the spirit, and your soul shall live for ever -and ever." - -"Well, it is a case with you, of the dog returning to his vomit," said -Petr Vassiliev, rising, "I should have thought that you would have -grown wiser since last year, but you are worse than ever." - -The old man went swaying from the shop onto the terrace, which action -disturbed Aleksander. He asked amazedly and hastily: - -"Has he gone? But--why?" - -Kind Lukian, winking consolingly, said: - -"That's all right--that's all right!" - -Then Aleksander fell upon him: - -"And what about you, worldling? You are also sewing rubbishy words, and -what do they mean? Well--a threefold alleluia--a double----" - -Lukian smiled at him and then went out on the terrace also, and -Aleksander, turning to the shopman, said in a tone of conviction: - -"They can't stand up to me, they simply can't! They disappear like -smoke before a flame." - -The shopman looked at him from under his brows, and observed dryly: - -"I have not thought about the matter." - -"What! Do you mean you have not thought about it? This is a business -which demands to be thought about." - -He sat for a moment in silence, with drooping head. Then the old men -called him, and they all three went away. - -This man had burst upon me like a bonfire in the night. He burned -brightly, and when he was extinguished, left me feeling that there was -truth in his refusal to live as other men. - -In the evening, choosing a good time, I spoke about him excitedly to -the head icon-painter. Quiet and kind Ivan Larionovich listened to what -I had to say, and explained: - -"He belongs to the Byegouns,[1] a sort of sect; they acknowledge no -authority." - -"How do they live?" - -"Like fugitives they wander about the earth; that is why they have been -given the name Byegoun. They say that no one ought to have land, or -property. And the police look upon them as dangerous, and arrest them." - -Although my life was bitter, I could not understand how any one could -run away from everything pleasant. In the life which went on around me -at that time, there was much that was interesting and precious to me, -and Aleksander Vassiliev soon faded from my mind. - -[Footnote 1: Byegouns, or wanderers, still another sect of Old -Believers.] - -But from time to time, in hours of darkness, he appeared to me. He came -by the fields, or by the gray road to the forest, pushed his cap aside -with a convulsive movement of his white hands, unsoiled by work, and -muttered: - -"I am going on the straight road; I have no part in this world; I have -broken all ties." - -In conjunction with him I remembered my father, as grandmother had seen -him in her dream, with a walnut stick in his hand, and behind him a -spotted dog running, with its tongue hanging out. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -The icon-painting workshop occupied two rooms in a large house partly -built of stone. One room had three windows overlooking the yard and -one overlooking the garden; the other room had one window overlooking -the garden and another facing the street. These windows were small and -square, and their panes, irisated by age, unwillingly admitted the -pale, diffused light of the winter days. Both rooms were closely packed -with tables, and at every table sat the bent figures of icon-painters. -From the ceilings were suspended glass balls full of water, which -reflected the light from the lamps and threw it upon the square -surfaces of the icons in white cold rays. - -It was hot and stifling in the workshop. Here worked about twenty -men, icon-painters, from Palekh, Kholia, and Mstir. They all sat down -in cotton overalls with unfastened collars. They had drawers made -of ticking, and were barefooted, or wore sandals. Over their heads -stretched, like a blue veil, the smoke of cheap tobacco, and there -was a thick smell of size, varnish, and rotten eggs. The melancholy -Vlandimirski song flowed slowly, like resin: - - How depraved the people have now become; - The boy ruined the girl, and cared not who knew. - -They sang other melancholy songs, but this was the one they sang most -often. Its long-drawn-out movement did not hinder one from thinking, -did not impede the movement of the fine brush, made of weasel hair, -over the surface of the icons, as it painted in the lines of the -figure, and laid upon the emaciated faces of the saints the fine lines -of suffering. By the windows the chaser, Golovev, plied his small -hammer. He was a drunken old man with an enormous blue nose. The lazy -stream of song was punctuated by the ceaseless dry tap of the hammer; -it was like a worm gnawing at a tree. Some evil genius had divided the -work into a long series of actions, bereft of beauty and incapable of -arousing any love for the business, or interest in it. The squinting -joiner, Panphil, ill-natured and malicious, brought the pieces of -cypress and lilac-wood of different sizes, which he had planed and -glued; the consumptive lad, Davidov, laid the colors on; his comrade, -Sorokin, painted in the inscription; Milyashin outlined the design from -the original with a pencil; old Golovev gilded it, and embossed the -pattern in gold; the finishers drew the landscape, and the clothes of -the figures; and then they were stood with faces or hands against the -wall, waiting for the work of the face-painter. - -It was very weird to see a large icon intended for an iconastasis, or -the doors of the altar, standing against the wall without face, hands, -or feet,--just the sacerdotal vestments, or the armor, and the short -garments of archangels. These variously painted tablets suggested -death. That which should have put life into them was absent, but it -seemed as if it had been there, and had miraculously disappeared, -leaving only its heavy vestments behind. - -When the features had been painted in by the face-painter, the icon -was handed to the workman, who filled in the design of the chaser. A -different workman had to do the lettering, and the varnish was put on -by the head workman himself Ivan Larionovich, a quiet man. He had a -gray face; his beard, too, was gray, the hair fine and silky; his gray -eyes were peculiarly deep and sad. He had a pleasant smile, but one -could not smile at him. He made one feel awkward, somehow. He looked -like the image of Simon Stolpnik, just as lean and emaciated, and his -motionless eyes looked far away in the same abstracted manner, through -people and walls. - -Some days after I entered the workshop, the banner-worker, a Cossack -of the Don, named Kapendiukhin, a handsome, mighty fellow, arrived in -a state of intoxication. With clenched teeth and his gentle, womanish -eyes blinking, he began to smash up everything with his iron fist, -without uttering a word. Of medium height and well built, he cast -himself on the workroom like a cat chasing rats in a cellar. The others -lost their presence of mind, and hid themselves away in the corners, -calling out to one another: - -"Knock him down!" - -The face-painter, Evgen Sitanov, was successful in stunning the -maddened creature by hitting him on the head with a small stool. The -Cossack subsided on the floor, and was immediately held down and tied -up with towels, which he began to bite and tear with the teeth of a -wild beast. This infuriated Evgen. He jumped on the table, and with his -hands pressed close to his sides, prepared to jump on the Cossack. Tall -and stout as he was, he would have inevitably crushed the breast-bone -of Kapendiukhin by his leap, but at that moment Larionovich appeared on -the scene in cap and overcoat, shook his finger at Sitanov, and said to -the workmen in a quiet and business-like tone: - -"Carry him into the vestibule, and leave him there till he is sober." - -They dragged the Cossack out of the workshop, set the chairs and tables -straight, and once again set to work, letting fall short remarks on the -strength of their comrade, prophesying that he would one day be killed -by some one in a quarrel. - -"It would be a difficult matter to kill him," said Sitanov very calmly, -as if he were speaking of a business which he understood very well. - -I looked at Larionovich, wondering perplexedly why these strong, -pugilistic people were so easily ruled by him. He showed every one -how he ought to work; even the best workmen listened willingly to his -advice; he taught Kapendiukhin more, and with more words, than the -others. - -"You, Kapendiukhin, are what is called a painter--that is, you ought to -paint from life in the Italian manner. Painting in oils requires warm -colors, and you have introduced too much white, and made Our Lady's -eyes as cold as winter. The cheeks are painted red, like apples, and -the eyes do not seem to belong to them. And they are not put in right, -either; one is looking over the bridge of the nose, and the other has -moved to the temple; and the face has not come out pure and holy, but -crafty, wintry. You don't think about your work, Kapendiukhin." - -The Cossack listened and made a wry face. Then smiling impudently with -his womanish eyes, he said in his pleasant voice, which was rather -hoarse with so much drinking: - -"Ekh! I--va--a--n Larionovich, my father, that is not my trade. I was -born to be a musician, and they put me among monks." - -"With zeal, any business may be mastered." - -"No; what do you take me for? I ought to have been a coachman with a -team of gray horses, eh?" And protruding his Adam's apple, he drawled -despairingly: - - "Eh, i-akh, if I had a leash of grayhounds - And dark brown horses, - Och, when I am in torment on frosty nights - I would fly straight, straight to my love!" - -Ivan Larionovich, smiling mildly, set his glasses straight on his gray, -sad, melancholy nose, and went away. But a dozen voices took up the -song in a friendly spirit, and there flowed forth a mighty stream of -song which seemed to raise the whole work-shop into the air and shake -it with measured blows: - - "By custom the horses know - Where the little lady lives." - -The apprentice, Pashka Odintzov, threw aside his work of pouring off -the yolks of the eggs, and holding the shells in his hand, led the -chorus in a masterly manner. Intoxicated by the sounds, they all forgot -themselves, they all breathed together as if they had but one bosom, -and were full of the same feelings, looking sideways at the Cossack. -When he sang, the workshop acknowledged him as its master; they were -all drawn to him, followed the brief movements of his hands; he spread -his arms out as if he were about to fly. I believe that if he had -suddenly broken off his song and cried, "Let us smash up everything," -even the most serious of the workmen would have smashed the workshop to -pieces in a few moments. - -He sang rarely, but the power of his tumultuous songs was always -irresistible and all-conquering. It was as if these people were not -very strongly made, and he could lift them up and set them on fire; as -if everything was bent when it came within the warm influence of that -mighty organ of his. - -As for me, these songs aroused in me a hot feeling of envy of the -singer, of his admirable power over people. A painful emotion flowed -over my heart, making it feel as if it would burst. I wanted to weep -and call out to the singers: - -"I love you!" - -Consumptive, yellow Davidov, who was covered with tufts of hair, also -opened his mouth, strangely resembling a young jackdaw newly burst out -of the egg. - -These happy, riotous songs were only sung when the Cossack started -them. More often they sang the sad, drawn-out one about the depraved -people, and another about the forests, and another about the death of -Alexander I, "How our Alexander went to review his army." Sometimes at -the suggestion of our best face painter, Jikharev, they tried to sing -some church melodies, but it was seldom a success. Jikharev always -wanted one particular thing; he had only one idea of harmony, and he -kept on stopping the song. - -He was a man of forty-five, dry, bald, with black, curly, gipsy-like -hair, and large black brows which looked like mustaches. His pointed, -thick beard was very ornamental to his fine, swarthy, un-Russian face, -but under his protuberant nose stuck out ferocious-looking mustaches, -superfluous when one took his brows into consideration. His blue eyes -did not match, the left being noticeably larger than the right. - -"Pashka," he cried in a tenor voice to my comrade, the apprentice, -"come along now, start off: 'Praise--'Now people, listen!" - -Wiping his hands on his apron, Pashka led off: - -"Pr--a--a--ise--" - -"The Name of the Lord," several voices caught it up, but Jikharev cried -fussily: - -"Lower, Evgen! Let your voice come from the very depths of the soul." - -Sitanov, in a voice so deep that it sounded like the rattle of a drum, -gave forth: - -"R--rabi Gospoda (slaves of the Lord)--" - -"Not like that! That part should be taken in such a way that the earth -should tremble and the doors and windows should open of themselves!" - -Jikharev was in a state of incomprehensible excitement. His -extraordinary brows went up and down on his forehead, his voice broke, -his fingers played on an invisible dulcimer. - -"Slaves of the Lord--do you understand?" he said importantly. "You have -got to feel that right to the kernel of your being, right through the -shell. Slaves, praise the Lord! How is it that you--living people--do -not understand that?" - -"We never seem to get it as you say it ought to be," said Sitanov -quietly. - -"Well, let it alone then!" - -Jikharev, offended, went on with his work. He was the best workman -we had, for he could paint faces in the Byzantine manner, and -artistically, in the new Italian style. When he took orders for -iconostasis, Larionovich took counsel with him. He had a fine knowledge -of all original image-paintings; all the costly copies of miraculous -icons, Theodorovski, Kazanski, and others, passed through his hands. -But when he lighted upon the originals, he growled loudly: - -"These originals tie us down; there is no getting away from that fact." - -In spite of his superior position in the workshop, he was less -conceited than the others, and was kind to the apprentices--Pavl and -me. He wanted to teach us the work, since no one else ever bothered -about us. - -He was difficult to understand; he was not usually cheerful, and -sometimes he would work for a whole week in silence, like a dumb -man. He looked on every one as at strangers who amazed him, as if it -were the first time he had come across such people. And although he -was very fond of singing, at such times he did not sing, nor did he -even listen to the songs. All the others watched him, winking at one -another. He would bend over the icon which stood sideways, his tablet -on his knees, the middle resting on the edge of the table, while his -fine brush diligently painted the dark, foreign face. He was dark and -foreign-looking himself. Suddenly he would say in a clear, offended -tone: - -"Forerunner--what does that mean? _Tech_ means in ancient language 'to -go.' A forerunner is one who goes before,--and that is all." - -The workshop was very quiet; every one was glancing askance at -Jikharev, laughing, and in the stillness rang out these strange words: - -"He ought to be painted with a sheepskin and wings." - -"Whom are you talking to?" I asked. - -He was silent, either not hearing my question or not caring to answer -it. Then his words again fell into the expectant silence: - -"The lives of the saints are what we ought to know! What do we know? -We live without wings. Where is the soul? The soul--where is it? The -originals are there--yes--but where are the souls?" - -This thinking aloud caused even Sitanov to laugh derisively, and almost -always some one whispered with malicious joy: - -"He will get drunk on Saturday." - -Tall, sinewy Sitanov, a youngster of twenty-two years, with a round -face without whiskers or eyebrows, gazed sadly and seriously into the -corner. - -I remember when the copy of the Theodorovski Madonna, which I believe -was Kungur, was finished. Jikharev placed the icon on the table and -said loudly, excitedly: - -"It is finished, Little Mother! Bright Chalice, Thou! Thou, bottomless -cup, in which are shed the bitter tears from the hearts of the world of -creatures!" - -And throwing an overcoat over his shoulders, he went out to the tavern. -The young men laughed and whistled, the elder ones looked after him -with envious sighs, and Sitanov went to his work. Looking at it -attentively, he explained: - -"Of course he will go and get drunk, because he is sorry to have to -hand over his work. That sort of regret is not given to all." - -Jikharev's drinking bouts always began on Saturday, and his, you must -understand, was not the usual alcoholic fever of the workman. It began -thus: In the morning he would write a note and sent Pavl somewhere -with it, and before dinner he would say to Larionovich: - -"I am going to the bath to-day." - -"Will you be long?" - -"Well, Lord--" - -"Please don't be gone over Tuesday!" - -Jikharev bowed his bald cranium in assent; his brows twitched. When -he returned from the baths, he attired himself fashionably in a false -shirt-front and a cravat, attached a long silver chain to his satin -waistcoat, and went out without speaking, except to say to Pavl and me: - -"Clean up the workshop before the evening; wash the large table and -scrape it." - -Then a kind of holiday excitement showed itself in every one of them. -They braced themselves up, cleaned themselves, ran to the bath, and -had supper in a hurry. After supper Jikharev appeared with light -refreshments, beer, and wine, and following him came a woman so -exaggerated in every respect that she was almost a monstrosity. She -was six feet five inches in height. All our chairs and stools looked -like toys when she was there, and even tall Sitanov looked undersized -beside her. She was well formed, but her bosom rose like a hillock to -her chin, and her movements were slow and awkward. She was about forty -years of age, but her mobile face, with its great horse-like eyes, was -fresh and smooth, and her small mouth looked as if it had been painted -on, like that of a cheap doll. She smiled, held out her broad hand to -everyone, and spoke unnecessary words: - -"How do you do? There is a hard frost to-day. What a stuffy smell there -is here! It is the smell of paint. How do you do?" - -To look at her, so calm and strong, like a large river at high tide, -was pleasant, but her speech had a soporific influence, and was both -superfluous and wearisome. Before she uttered a word, she used to -puff, making her almost livid cheeks rounder than ever. The young ones -giggled, and whispered among themselves: - -"She is like an engine!" - -"Like a steeple!" - -Pursing her lips and folding her hands under her bosom, she sat at the -cloth-covered table by the samovar, and looked at us all in turn with a -kind expression in her horse-like eyes. - -Every one treated her with great respect, and the younger ones were -even rather afraid of her. The youths looked at that great body with -eager eyes, but when they met her all-embracing glance, they lowered -their own eyes in confusion. Jikharev was also respectful to his guest, -addressed her as "you," called her "little comrade," and pressed -hospitality upon her, bowing low the while. - -"Now don't you put yourself out," she drawled sweetly. "What a fuss you -are making of me, really!" - -As for herself, she lived without hurry; her arms moved only from the -elbow to the wrist, while the elbows themselves were pressed against -her sides. From her came an ardent smell, as of hot bread. Old Golovev, -stammering in his enthusiasm, praised the beauty of the woman, like a -deacon chanting the divine praises. She listened, smiling affably, and -when he had become involved in his speech, said of herself: - -"We were not a bit handsome when we were young; this has all come -through living as a woman. By the time we were thirty, we had become so -remarkable that even the nobility interested themselves in us, and one -district commander actually promised a carriage with a pair of horses." - -Kapendiukhin, tipsy and dishevelled, looked at her with a glance of -hatred, and asked coarsely: - -"What did he promise you that for?" - -"In return for our love, of course," explained the guest. - -"Love," muttered Kapendiukhin, "what sort of love?" - -"Such a handsome young man as you are must know all about love," -answered the woman simply. - -The workshop shook with laughter, and Sitanov growled to Kapendiukhin: - -"A fool, if no worse, she is! People only love that way through a great -passion, as every one knows." - -He was pale with the wine he had drunk; drops of sweat stood on his -temples like pearls; his intelligent eyes burned alarmingly. - -But old Golovev, twitching his monstrous nose, wiped the tears from his -eyes with his fingers, and asked: - -"How many children did you have?" - -"Only one." - -Over the table hung a lamp; over the stove, another. They gave a feeble -light; thick shadows gathered in the corners of the workshop, from -which looked half-painted headless figures. The dull, gray patches in -place of hands and heads look weird and large, and, as usual, it seemed -to me that the bodies of the saints had secretly disappeared from the -painted garments. The glass balls, raised right up to the ceiling, hung -there on hooks in a cloud of smoke, and gleamed with a blue light. - -Jikharev went restlessly round the table, pressing hospitality on every -one. His broad, bald skull inclined first to one and then to another, -his thin fingers always were on the move. He was very thin, and his -nose, which was like that of a bird of prey, seemed to have grown -sharper; when he stood sideways to the light, the shadow of his nose -lay on his cheek. - -"Drink and eat, friends," he said in his ringing tenor. - -"Why do you worry yourself, comrade? They all have hands, and every one -has his own hands and his own appetite; more than that no one can eat, -however much they may want to!" - -"Rest yourself, people," cried Jikharev in a ringing voice. "My -friends, we are all the slaves of God; let us sing, 'Praise His Name.'" - -The chant was not a success; they were all enervated and stupefied by -eating and vodka-drinking. In Kapendiukhin's hands was a harmonica -with a double keyboard; young Victor Salautin, dark and serious as a -young crow, took up a drum, and let his fingers wander over the tightly -stretched skin, which gave forth a deep sound; the tambourines tinkled. - -"The Russian dance!" commanded Jikharev, "little comrade, please." - -"Ach!" sighed the woman, rising, "what a worry you are!" - -She went to the space which had been cleared, and stood there solidly, -like a sentry. She wore a short brown skirt, a yellow batiste blouse, -and a red handkerchief on her head. - -The harmonica uttered passionate lamentations; its little bells rang; -the tambourines tinkled; the skin of the drum gave forth a heavy, dull, -sighing sound. This had an unpleasant effect, as if a man had gone mad -and was groaning, sobbing, and knocking his head against the wall. - -Jikharev could not dance. He simply moved his feet about, and setting -down the heels of his brightly polished boots, jumped about like a -goat, and that not in time with the clamorous music. His feet seemed to -belong to some one else; his body writhed unbeautifully; he struggled -like a wasp in a spider's web, or a fish in a net. It was not at all -a cheerful sight. But all of them, even the tipsy ones, seemed to be -impressed by his convulsions; they all watched his face and arms in -silence. The changing expressions of his face were amazing. Now he -looked kind and rather shy, suddenly he became proud, and frowned -harshly; now he seemed to be startled by something, sighed, closed his -eyes for a second, and when he opened them, wore a sad expression. -Clenching his fists he stole up to the woman, and suddenly stamping his -feet, fell on his knees in front of her with arms outspread and raised -brows, smiling ardently. She looked down upon him with an affable -smile, and said to him calmly: - -"Stand up, comrade." - -She tried to close her eyes, but those eyes, which were in -circumference like a three copeck piece, would not close, and her face -wrinkled and assumed an unpleasant expression. - -She could not dance either, and did nothing but move her enormous body -from side to side, noiselessly transferring it from place to place. In -her left hand was a handkerchief which she waved languidly; her right -was placed on her hip. This gave her the appearance of a large pitcher. - -And Jikharev moved round this massive woman with so many different -changes of expression that he seemed to be ten different men dancing, -instead of one. One was quiet and humble, another proud and terrifying; -in the third movement he was afraid, sighing gently, as if he desired -to slip away unnoticed from the large, unpleasant woman. But still -another person appeared, gnashing his teeth and writhing convulsively -like a wounded dog. This sad, ugly dance reminded me of the soldiers, -the laundresses, and the cooks, and their vile behavior. - -Sitanov's quiet words stuck in my memory: - -"In these affairs every one lies; that's part of the business. Every -one is ashamed; no one loves any one--but it is simply an amusement." - -I did not wish to believe that "every one lied in these affairs." How -about Queen Margot, then? And of course Jikharev was not lying. And I -knew that Sitanov had loved a "street" girl, and she had deceived him. -He had not beaten her for it, as his comrades advised him to do, but -had been kind to her. - -The large woman went on rocking, smiling like a corpse, waving her -handkerchief. Jikharev jumped convulsively about her, and I looked -on and thought: "Could Eve, who was able to deceive God, have been -anything like this horse?" I was seized by a feeling of dislike for her. - -The faceless images looked from the dark walls; the dark night pressed -against the window-panes. The lamps burned dimly in the stuffy -workshop; if one listened, one could hear above the heavy trampling -and the din of voices the quick dropping of water from the copper -wash-basin into the tub. - -How unlike this was to the life I read of in books! It was painfully -unlike it. At length they all grew weary of this, and Kapendiukhin put -the harmonica into Salautin's hands, and cried: - -"Go on! Fire away!" - -He danced like Vanka Tzigan, just as if he was swimming in the air. -Then Pavl Odintzov and Sorokhin danced passionately and lightly after -him. The consumptive Davidov also moved his feet about the floor, and -coughed from the dust, smoke, and the strong odor of vodka and smoked -sausage, which always smells like tanned hide. - -They danced, and sang, and shouted, but each remembered that they were -making merry, and gave each other a sort of test--a test of agility and -endurance. - -Tipsy Sitanov asked first one and then another: - -"Do you think any one could really love a woman like that?" - -He looked as if he were on the verge of tears. - -Larionovich, lifting the sharp bones of his shoulders, answered: - -"A woman is a woman--what more do you want?" - -The two of whom they spoke disappeared unnoticed. Jikharev reappeared -in the workshop in two or three days, went to the bath, and worked for -two weeks in his corner, without speaking, pompous and estranged from -every one. - -"Have they gone?" asked Sitanov of himself, looking round the workshop -with sad blue-gray eyes. His face was not handsome, for there was -something elderly about it, but his eyes were clear and good. Sitanov -was friendly to me--a fact which I owed to my thick note-book in which -I had written poetry. He did not believe in God, but it was hard to -understand who in the workshop, beside Larionovich, loved God and -believed in Him. They all spoke of Him with levity, derisively, just -as they liked to speak of their mistresses. Yet when they dined, or -supped, they all crossed themselves, and when they went to bed, they -said their prayers, and went to church on Sundays and feast days. - -Sitanov did none of these things, and he was counted as an unbeliever. - -"There is no God," he said. - -"Where did we all come from, then?" - -"I don't know." - -When I asked him how God could possibly not be, he explained: - -"Don't you see that God is height!" - -He raised his long arm above his head, then lowered it to an arshin -from the floor, and said: - -"And man is depth! Is that true? And it is written: Man was created in -the image and likeness of God,--as you know! And what is Golovev like?" - -This defeated me. The dirty and drunken old man, in spite of his years, -was given to an unmentionable sin. I remembered the Viatski soldier, -Ermokhin, and grandmother's sister. Where was God's likeness in them? - -"Human creatures are swine--as you know," said Sitanov, and then he -tried to console me. "Never mind, Maxim, there are good people; there -are!" - -He was easy to get on with; he was so simple. When he did not know -anything, he said frankly: - -"I don't know; I never thought about it!" - -This was something unusual. Until I met him, I had only come across -people who knew everything and talked about everything. It was strange -to me to see in his note-book, side by side with good poetry which -touched the soul, many obscene verses which aroused no feeling but that -of shame. When I spoke to him about Pushkin, he showed me "Gavrialad," -which had been copied in his book. - -"What is Pushkin? Nothing but a jester, but that Benediktov--he is -worth paying attention to." - -And closing his eyes he repeated softly: - - "Look at the bewitching bosom - Of a beautiful woman." - -For some reason he was especially partial to the three lines which he -quoted with joyful pride: - - "Not even the orbs of an eagle - Into that warm cloister can penetrate - And read that heart." - -"Do you understand that?" - -It was very uncomfortable to me to have to acknowledge that I did not -understand what he was so pleased about. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -My duties in the workshop were not complicated. - -In the morning when they were all asleep, I had to prepare the samovar -for the men, and while they drank tea in the kitchen, Pavl and I swept -and dusted the workshop, set out red, yellow, or white paints, and then -I went to the shop. In the evening I had to grind up colors and "watch" -the work. At first I watched with great interest, but I soon realized -that all the men who were engaged on this handicraft which was divided -up into so many processes, disliked it, and suffered from a torturing -boredom. - -The evenings were free. I used to tell them stories about life on the -steamer and different stories out of books, and without noticing how -it came about, I soon held a peculiar position in the workshop as -story-teller and reader. - -I soon found out that all these people knew less than I did; almost all -of them had been stuck in the narrow cage of workshop life since their -childhood, and were still in it. Of all the occupants of the workshop, -only Jikharev had been in Moscow, of which he spoke suggestively and -frowningly: - -"Moscow does not believe in tears; there they know which side their -bread is buttered." - -None of the rest had been farther than Shuya, or Vladimir. When mention -was made of Kazan, they asked me: - -"Are there many Russians there? Are there any churches?" - -For them, Perm was in Siberia, and they would not believe that Siberia -was beyond the Urals. - -"Sandres come from the Urals; and sturgeon--where are they found? Where -do they get them? From the Caspian Sea? That means that the Urals are -on the sea!" - -Sometimes I thought that they were laughing at me when they declared -that England was on the other side of the Atlantic, and that Bonaparte -belonged by birth to a noble family of Kalonga. When I told them -stories of what I had seen, they hardly believed me, but they all loved -terrible tales intermixed with history. Even the men of mature years -evidently preferred imagination to the truth. I could see very well -that the more improbable the events, the more fantastic the story, the -more attentively they listened to me. On the whole, reality did not -interest them, and they all gazed dreamily into the future, not wishing -to see the poverty and hideousness of the present. - -This astonished me so much the more, inasmuch as I had felt keenly -enough the contradiction existing between life and books. Here before -me were living people, and in books there were none like them--no -Smouri, stoker Yaakov, fugitive Aleksander Vassiliev, Jikharev, or -washerwoman Natalia. - -In Davidov's trunk a torn copy of Golitzinski's stories was -found--"Ivan Vuijigin," "The Bulgar," "A Volume of Baron Brambeuss." I -read all these aloud to them, and they were delighted. Larionovich said: - -"Reading prevents quarrels and noise; it is a good thing!" - -I began to look about diligently for books, found them, and read almost -every evening. Those were pleasant evenings. It was as quiet as night -in the workshop; the glass balls hung over the tables like white cold -stars, their rays lighting up shaggy and bald heads. I saw round me -at the table, calm, thoughtful faces; now and again an exclamation -of praise of the author, or hero was heard. They were attentive and -benign, quite unlike themselves. I liked them very much at those times, -and they also behaved well to me. I felt that I was in my right place. - -"When we have books it is like spring with us; when the winter frames -are taken out and for the first time we can open the windows as we -like," said Sitanov one day. - -It was hard to find books. We could not afford to subscribe to a -library, but I managed to get them somehow, asking for them wherever I -went, as a charity. One day the second officer of the fire brigade gave -me the first volume of "Lermontov," and it was from this that I felt -the power of poetry, and its mighty influence over people. I remember -even now how, at the first lines of "The Demon," Sitanov looked first -at the book and then at my face, laid down his brush on the table, and, -embracing his knee with his long arms, rocked to and fro, smiling. - -"Not so much noise, brothers," said Larionovich, and also laying aside -his work, he went to Sitanov's table where I was reading. The poem -stirred me painfully and sweetly; my voice was broken; I could hardly -read the lines. Tears poured from my eyes. But what moved me still -more was the dull, cautious movement of the workmen. In the workshop -everything seemed to be diverted from its usual course--drawn to me as -if I had been a magnet. When I had finished the first part, almost all -of them were standing round the table, closely pressing against one -another, embracing one another, frowning and laughing. - -"Go on reading," said Jikharev, bending my head over the book. - -When I had finished reading, he took the book, looked at the title, put -it under his arm, and said: - -"We must read this again! We will read it to-morrow! I will hide the -book away." - -He went away, locked "Lermontov" in his drawer, and returned to his -work. It was quiet in the workshop; the men stole back to their tables. -Sitanov went to the window, pressed his forehead against the glass, and -stood there as if frozen. Jikharev, again laying down his brush, said -in a stern voice: - -"Well, such is life; slaves of God--yes--ah!" - -He shrugged his shoulders, hid his face, and went on: - -"I can draw the devil himself; black and rough, with wings of red -flame, with red lead, but the face, hands, and feet--these should be -bluish-white, like snow on a moonlight night." - -Until close upon supper-time he revolved about on his stool, -restless and unlike himself, drumming with his fingers and talking -unintelligibly of the devil, of women and Eve, of paradise, and of the -sins of holy men. - -"That is all true!" he declared. "If the saints sinned with sinful -women, then of course the devil may sin with a pure soul." - -They listened to him in silence; probably, like me, they had no -desire to speak. They worked unwillingly, looking all the time at -their watches, and as soon as it struck ten, they put away their work -altogether. - -Sitanov and Jikharev went out to the yard, and I went with them. There, -gazing at the stars, Sitanov said: - - "Like a wandering caravan - Thrown into space, it shone." - -"You did not make that up yourself!" - -"I can never remember words," said Jikharev, shivering in the bitter -cold. "I can't remember anything; but he, I see--It is an amazing -thing--a man who actually pities the devil! He has made you sorry for -him, hasn't he?" - -"He has," agreed Sitanov. - -"There, that is a real man!" exclaimed Jikharev reminiscently. In the -vestibule he warned me: "You, Maxim, don't speak to any one in the shop -about that book, for of course it is a forbidden one." - -I rejoiced; this must be one of the books of which the priest had -spoken to me in the confessional. - -We supped languidly, without the usual noise and talk, as if something -important had occurred and we could not keep from thinking about it, -and after supper, when we were going to bed, Jikharev said to me, as he -drew forth the book: - -"Come, read it once more!" - -Several men rose from their beds, came to the table, and sat themselves -round it, undressed as they were, with their legs crossed. - -And again when I had finished reading, Jikharev said, strumming his -fingers on the table: - -"That is a living picture of him! Ach, devil, devil--that's how he is, -brothers, eh?" - -Sitanov leaned over my shoulder, read something, and laughed, as he -said: - -"I shall copy that into my own note-book." Jikharev stood up and -carried the book to his own table, but he turned back and said in an -offended, shaky voice: - -"We live like blind puppies--to what end we do not know. We are not -necessary either to God or the devil! How are we slaves of the Lord? -The Jehovah of slaves and the Lord Himself speaks with them! With -Moses, too! He even gave Moses a name; it means 'This is mine'--a man -of God. And we--what are we?" - -He shut up the book and began to dress himself, asking Sitanov: - -"Are you coming to the tavern?" - -"I shall go to my own tavern," answered Sitanov softly. - -When they had gone out, I lay down on the floor by the door, beside -Pavl Odintzov. He tossed about for a long time, snored, and suddenly -began to weep quietly. - -"What is the matter with you?" - -"I am sick with pity for all of them," he said. "This is the fourth -year of my life with them, and I know all about them." - -I also was sorry for these people. We did not go to sleep for a long -time, but talked about them in whispers, finding goodness, good traits -in each one of them, and also something which increased our childish -pity. - -I was very friendly with Pavl Odintzov. They made a good workman of him -in the end, but it did not last long; before the end of three years he -had begun to drink wildly, later on I met him in rags on the Khitrov -market-place in Moscow, and not long ago I heard that he had died of -typhoid. It is painful to remember how many good people in my life I -have seen senselessly ruined. People of all nations wear themselves -out, and to ruin themselves comes natural but nowhere do they wear -themselves out so terribly quickly, so senselessly, as in our own -Russia. - -Then he was a round-headed boy two years older than myself; he was -lively, intelligent, and upright; he was talented, for he could draw -birds, cats, and dogs excellently, and was amazingly clever in his -caricatures of the workmen, always depicting them as feathered. Sitanov -was shown as a sad-looking woodcock standing on one leg, Jikharev as a -cock with a torn comb and no feathers on his head; sickly Davidov was -an injured lapwing. But best of all was his drawing of the old chaser, -Golovev, representing him as a bat with large whiskers, ironical nose, -and four feet with six nails on each. From the round, dark face, white, -round eyes gazed forth, the pupils of which looked like the grain of a -lentil. They were placed crossways, thus giving to the face a lifelike -and hideous expression. - -The workmen were not offended when Pavl showed them the caricatures, -but the one of Golovev made an unpleasant impression on them all, and -the artist was sternly advised: - -"You had better tear it up, for if the old man sees it, he will half -kill you!" - -The dirty, putrid, everlastingly drunk old man was tiresomely pious, -and inextinguishably malicious. He vilified the whole workshop to the -shopman whom the mistress was about to marry to her niece, and who -for that reason felt himself to be master of the whole house and the -workpeople. The workmen hated him, but they were afraid of him, and -for the same reason were afraid of Golovev, too. - -Pavl worried the chaser furiously and in all manner of ways, just as if -he had set before himself the aim of never allowing Golovev to have a -moment's peace. I helped him in this with enthusiasm, and the workshop -amused itself with our pranks, which were almost always pitilessly -coarse. But we were warned: - -"You will get into trouble, children! Kouzka-Juchek will half kill you!" - -Kouzka-Juchek was the nickname of the shopman, which was given to him -on the quiet by the workshop. - -The warning did not alarm us. We painted the face of the chaser when -he was asleep. One day when he was in a drunken slumber we gilded his -nose, and it was three days before he was able to get the gold out -of the holes in his spongy nose. But every time that we succeeded in -infuriating the old man, I remembered the steamboat, and the little -Viatski soldier, and I was conscious of a disturbance in my soul. In -spite of his age, Golovev was so strong that he often beat us, falling -upon us unexpectedly; he would beat us and then complain of us to the -mistress. - -She, who was also drunk every day, and for that reason always kind -and cheerful, tried to frighten us, striking her swollen hands on the -table, and crying: "So you have been saucy again, you wild beast? -He is an old man, and you ought to respect him! Who was it that put -photographic solution in his glass, instead of wine?" - -"We did." - -The mistress was amazed. - -"Good Lord, they actually admit it! Ah, accursed ones, you ought to -respect old men!" - -She drove us away, and in the evening she complained to the shopman, -who spoke to me angrily: - -"How can you read books, even the Holy Scriptures, and still be so -saucy, eh? Take care, my brother!" - -The mistress was solitary and touchingly sad. Sometimes when she had -been drinking sweet liqueurs, she would sit at the window and sing: - - "No one is sorry for me, - And pity have I from none; - What my grief is no one knows; - To whom shall I tell my sorrow." - - -And sobbingly she drawled in the quavering voice of age: - -"U--00--00--" - -One day I saw her going down the stairs with a jug of warm milk in -her hands, but suddenly her legs gave way under her. She sat down, -and descended the stairs, sadly bumping from step to step, and never -letting the jug out of her hand. The milk splashed over her dress, and -she, with her hands outstretched, cried angrily to the jug: - -"What is the matter with you, satyr? Where are you going?" - -Not stout, but soft to flabbiness, she looked like an old cat which -had grown beyond catching mice, and, languid from overfeeding, could do -no more than purr, dwelling sweetly on the memories of past triumphs -and pleasures. - -"Here," said Sitanov, frowning thoughtfully, "was a large business, a -fine workshop, and clever men labored at this trade; but now that is -all done with, all gone to ruin, all directed by the paws of Kuzikin! -It is a case of working and working, and all for strangers! When one -thinks of this, a sort of spring seems to break in one's head. One -wants to do nothing,--a fig for any kind of work!--just to lie on the -roof, lie there for the whole summer and look up into the sky." - -Pavl Odintzov also appropriated these thoughts of Sitanov, and smoking -a cigarette which had been given him by his elders, philosophized about -God, drunkenness, and women. He enlarged on the fact that all work -disappears; certain people do it and others destroy it, neither valuing -it nor understanding it. - -At such times his sharp, pleasant face frowned, aged. He would sit on -his bed on the floor, embracing his knees, and look long at the blue -square of the window, at the roof of the shed which lay under a fall of -snow, and at the stars in the winter sky. - -The workmen snored, or talked in their sleep; one of them raved, -choking with words; in the loft, Davidov coughed away what was left of -his life. In the corner, body to body, wrapped in an iron-bound sleep -of intoxication, lay those "slaves of God"--Kapendiukhin, Sorokhin, -Pershin; from the walls icons without faces, hands, or feet looked -forth. There was a close smell of bad eggs, and dirt, which had turned -sour in the crevices of the floor. - -"How I pity them all!" whispered Pavl. "Lord!" - -This pity for myself and others disturbed me more and more. To us both, -as I have said before, all the workmen seemed to be good people, but -their lives were bad, unworthy of them, unbearably dull. At the time of -the winter snowstorms, when everything on the earth--the houses, the -trees--was shaken, howled, and wept, and in Lent, when the melancholy -bells rang out, the dullness of it all flowed over the workshop like -a wave, as oppressive as lead, weighing people down, killing all that -was alive in them, driving them to the tavern, to women, who served the -same purpose as vodka in helping them to forget. - -On such evenings books were of no use, so Pavl and I tried to amuse -the others in our own way: smearing our faces with soot and paint, -dressing ourselves up and playing different comedies composed by -ourselves, heroically fighting against the boredom till we made them -laugh. Remembering the "Account of how the soldier saved Peter the -Great," I turned this book into a conversational form, and climbing on -to Davidov's pallet-bed, we acted thereon cheerfully, cutting off the -head of an imaginary Swede. Our audience burst out laughing. - -They were especially delighted with the legend of the Chinese devil, -Sing-U-Tongia. Pashka represented the unhappy devil who had planned -to do a good deed, and I acted all the other characters--the people -of the field, subjects, the good soul, and even the stones on which -the Chinese devil rested in great pain after each of his unsuccessful -attempts to perform a good action. - -Our audience laughed loudly, and I was amazed when I saw how easily -they could be made to laugh. This facility provoked me unpleasantly. - -"Ach, clowns," they cried. "Ach, you devils!" - -But the further I went, the more I was troubled with the thought that -sorrow appealed more than joy to the hearts of these people. Gaiety has -no place in their lives, and as such has no value, but they evoke it -from under their burdens, as a contrast to the dreamy Russian sadness. -The inward strength of a gaiety which lives not of itself not because -it wishes to live, but because it is aroused by the call of sad days, -is suspect. And too often Russian gaiety changes suddenly into cruel -tragedy. A man will be dancing as if he were breaking the shackles -which bound him. Suddenly a ferocious wild beast is let loose in him, -and with the unreasoning anguish of a wild beast he will throw himself -upon all who come in his way, tear them in pieces, bite them, destroy -them. - -This intense joy aroused by exterior forces irritated me, and -stirred to self-oblivion, I began to compose and act suddenly -created fantasies--for I wanted so much to arouse a real, free, and -unrestrained joy in these people. I succeeded in some measure. They -praised me, they were amazed at me, but the sadness which I had almost -succeeded in shaking off, stole back again, gradually growing denser -and stronger, harassing them. - -Gray Larionovich said kindly: - -"Well, you are an amusing fellow, God bless you!" - -"He is a boon to us," Jikharev seconded him. - -"You know, Maxim, you ought to go into a circus, or a theater; you -would make a good clown." - -Out of the whole workshop only two went to the theaters, on Christmas -or carnival weeks, Kapendiukhin and Sitanov, and the older workmen -seriously counseled them to wash themselves from this sin in the -baptismal waters of the Jordan. Sitanov particularly would often urge -me: - -"Throw up everything and be an actor!" - -And much moved, he would tell me the "sad" story of the life of the -actor, Yakolev. - -"There, that will show you what may happen!" - -He loved to tell stories about Marie Stuart, whom he called "the -rogue," and his peculiar delight was the "Spanish nobleman." - -"Don Cæsar de Bazan was a real nobleman. Maximich! Wonderful!" - -There was something of the "Spanish nobleman" about himself. - -One day in the market-place, in front of the fire-station, three -firemen were amusing themselves by beating a peasant. A crowd of -people, numbering about forty persons, looked on and cheered the -soldiers. Sitanov threw himself into the brawl. With swinging blows of -his long arms he struck the firemen, lifted the peasant, and carried -him into the crowd, crying: - -"Take him away!" - -But he remained behind himself, one against three. The yard of the -fire-station was only about ten steps away; they might easily have -called others to their aid and Sitanov would have been killed. But by -good luck the firemen were frightened and ran away into the yard. - -"Dogs!" he cried after them. - -On Sunday the young people used to attend boxing-matches held in the -Tyessni yard behind the Petropavlovski churchyard, where sledge-drivers -and peasants from the adjacent villages assembled to fight with the -workmen. The wagoners put up against the town an eminent boxer, a -Mordovan giant with a small head, and large eyes always full of tears. -Wiping away the tears with the dirty sleeve of his short _caftan_, -he stood before his backers with his legs planted widely apart, and -challenged good-naturedly: - -"Come on, then; what is the matter with you? Are you cold?" - -Kapendiukhin was set up against him on our side, and the Mordovan -always beat him. But the bleeding, panting Cossack said: - -"I 'll lick that Mordovan if I die for it!" - -In the end, that became the one aim of his life. He even went to the -length of giving up vodka, rubbed his body with snow before he went to -sleep, ate a lot of meat, and to develop his muscles, crossed himself -many times every evening with two pound weights. But this did not -avail him at all. Then he sewed a piece of lead inside his gloves, and -boasted to Sitanov: - -"Now we will finish the Mordovan!" - -Sitanov sternly warned him: - -"You had better throw it away, or I will give you away before the -fight." - -Kapendiukhin did not believe him, but when the time for the fight -arrived, Sitanov said abruptly to the Mordovan: - -"Step aside, Vassili Ivanich; I have something to say to Kapendiukhin -first!" - -The Cossack turned purple and roared: - -"I have nothing to do with you; go away!" - -"Yes, you have!" said Sitanov, and approaching him, he looked into the -Cossack's face with a compelling glance. - -Kapendiukhin stamped on the ground, tore the gloves from his hands, -thrust them in his breast, and went quickly away from the scene of his -fight. - -Both our side and the other were unpleasantly surprised, and a certain -important personage said angrily to Sitanov: - -"That is quite against the rules, brother,--to bring private affairs to -be settled in the world of the prize ring!" - -They fell upon Sitanov from all sides, and abused him. He kept silence -for a long time, but at length he said to the important personage: - -"Am I to stand by and see murder done?" - -The important personage at once guessed the truth, and actually taking -off his cap said: - -"Then our gratitude is due to you!" - -"Only don't go and spread it abroad, uncle!" - -"Why should I? Kapendiukhin is hardly ever the victor, and ill-success -embitters a man. We understand! But in future we will have his gloves -examined before the contest." - -"That is your affair!" - -When the important personage had gone away, our side began to abuse -Kapendiukhin: - -"You have made a nice mess of it. He would have killed his man, our -Cossack would, and now we have to stay on the losing side!" - -They abused him at length, captiously, to their hearts' content. - -Sitanov sighed and said: - -"Oh, you guttersnipes!" - -And to the surprise of everyone he challenged the Mordovan to a single -contest. The latter squared up and flourishing his fists said jokingly: - -"We will kill each other." - -A good number of persons, taking hands, formed a wide, spacious circle. -The boxers, looking at each other keenly, changed over, the right hand -held out, the left on their breasts. The experienced people noticed at -once that Sitanov's arms were longer than those of the Mordovan. It was -very quiet; the snow crunched under the feet of the boxers. Some one, -unable to restrain his impatience, muttered complainingly and eagerly: - -"They ought to have begun by now." - -Sitanov flourished his right hand, the Mordovan raised his left -for defense, and received a straight blow under the right arm from -Sitanov's left hand. He gasped, retired, and exclaimed in a tone of -satisfaction: - -"He is young, but he is no fool!" - -They began to leap upon one another, striking each other's breasts -with blows from their mighty fists. In a few minutes not only our own -people, but strangers began to cry excitedly: - -"Get your blows in quicker, image-painter! Fix him up, embosser." - -The Mordovan was a little stronger than Sitanov, but as he was -considerably the heavier, he could not deal such swift blows, and -received two or three to every one he gave. But his seasoned body -apparently did not suffer much, and he was laughing and exclaiming all -the time, when, suddenly, with a heavy upward blow he put Sitanov's -right arm out of joint from the shoulder. - -"Part them; it is a draw!" cried several voices, and, breaking the -circle, the crowd gathered round the pugilists. - -"He is not very strong but he is skilful, the image-painter," said the -Mordovan good-naturedly. "He will make a good boxer, and that I say -before the whole world!" - -The elder persons began a general wrestling match, and I took Sitanov -to the Feldsher bone-setter. His deed had raised him still higher in my -esteem, had increased my sympathy with him, and his importance in my -eyes. - -He was, in the main, very upright and honorable, and he felt that he -had only done his duty, but the graceless Kapendiukhin made fun of him -lightly. - -"Ekh, Genya, you live for show! You have polished up your soul like -a samovar before a holiday, "and you go about boasting, 'look how -brightly it shines!' But your soul is really brass, and a very dull -affair, too." - -Sitanov remained calmly silent, either working hard or copying -Lermontov's verses into his note-book. He spent all his spare time in -this copying, and when I suggested to him: - -"Why, when you have plenty of money, don't you buy the book?" he -answered: - -"No, it is better in my own handwriting." - -Having written a page in his pretty, small handwriting, he would read -softly while he was waiting for the ink to dry: - - "Without regret, as a being apart, - You will look down upon this earth, - Where there is neither real happiness - Nor lasting beauty." - -And he said, half-closing his eyes: - -"That is true. Ekh! and well he knows the truth, too!" - -The behavior of Sitanov to Kapendiukhin always amazed me. When he had -been drinking, the Cossack always tried to pick a quarrel with his -comrade, and Sitanov would go on for a long time bearing it, and saying -persuasively: - -"That will do, let me alone!" - -And then he would start to beat the drunken man so cruelly that the -workmen, who regarded internal dissensions amongst themselves merely as -a spectacle, interfered between the friends, and separated them. - -"If we did n't stop Evgen in time, he would beat any one to death, and -he would never forgive himself," they said. - -When he was sober Kapendiukhin ceaselessly jeered at Sitanov, making -fun of his passion for poetry and his unhappy romance, obscenely, but -unsuccessfully trying to arouse jealousy. Sitanov listened to the -Cossack's taunts in silence, without taking offense, and he sometimes -even laughed with Kapendiukhin at himself. - -They slept side by side, and at night they would hold long, whispered -conversations about something. These conversations gave me no peace, -for I was anxious to know what these two people who were so unlike each -other found to talk about in such a friendly manner. But when I went -near them, the Cossack yelled: - -"What do you want?" - -But Sitanov did not seem to see me. - -However, one day they called me, and the Cossack asked: - -"Maximich, if you were rich, what would you do?" - -"I would buy books." - -"And what else?" - -"I don't know." - -"Ekh!" said Kapendiukhin, turning away from me in disgust, but Sitanov -said calmly: - -"You see; no one knows that, whether they be old or young. I tell you -that riches in themselves are worth nothing, unless they are applied to -some special purpose." - -I asked them, "What are you talking about?" - -"We don't feel inclined to sleep, and so we are talking," answered the -Cossack. - -Later, listening to them, I found that they were discussing by -night those things which other people discussed by day--God, truth, -happiness, the stupidity and cunning of women, the greediness of the -rich, and the fact that life is complicated and incomprehensible. - -I always listened to their conversations eagerly; they excited me. I -was pleased to think that almost every one had arrived at the same -conclusion; namely, that life is evil, and that we ought to have a -better form of existence! But at the same time I saw that the desire -to live under better conditions would have no effect, would change -nothing in the lives of the work-people, in their relations one with -another. All these talks, throwing a light upon my life as it lay -before me, revealed at the same time, beyond it, a sort of melancholy -emptiness; and in this emptiness, like specks of dust in a pond ruffled -by the wind, floated people, absurdly and exasperatingly, among them -those very people who had said that such a crowd was devoid 'of sense. -Always ready to give their opinion, they were always passing judgment -on others, repeating, bragging, and starting bitter quarrels about mere -trifles. They were always seriously offending one another. They tried -to guess what would happen to them after death; while on the threshold -of the workshop where the washstand stood, the floor-boards had rotted -away. From that damp, fetid hole rose the cold, damp smell of sour -earth, and it was this that made one's feet freeze. Pavl and I stopped -up this hole with straw and cloths. We often said that the boards -should be renewed, but the hole grew larger and larger, and in bad -weather fumes rose from it as from a pipe. Every one caught cold, and -coughed. The tin ventilator in the fortochka squeaked, and when some -one had oiled it, though they had all been grumbling at it, Jikharev -said: - -"It is dull, now that the fortochka has stopped squeaking." - -To come straight from the bath and lie down on a dirty, dusty bed, in -the midst of dirt and bad smells, did not revolt any one of them. There -were many insignificant trifles which made our lives unbearable, which -might easily have been remedied, but no one took the trouble to do -anything. - -They often said: - -"No one has any mercy upon human creatures,--neither God nor we -ourselves." - -But when Pavl and I washed dying Davidov, who was eaten up with dirt -and insects, a laugh was raised against us. They took off their shirts -and invited us to search them, called us blockheads, and jeered at us -as if we had done something shameful and very ludicrous. - -From Christmas till the beginning of Lent drew near, Davidov lay in the -loft, coughing protractedly, spitting blood, which, if it did not fall -into the wash-hand basin, splashed on the floor. At night he woke the -others with his delirious shrieks. - -Almost every day they said: - -"We must take him to the hospital!" - -But it turned out that Davidov's passport had expired. Then he seemed -better, and they said: - -"It is of no consequence after all; he will soon be dead!" - -And he would say to himself: - -"I shall soon be gone!" - -He was a quiet humorist and also tried to relieve the dullness of the -workshop by jokes, hanging down his dark bony face, and saying in a -wheezy voice: - -"Listen, people, to the voice of one who ascended to the loft. - - "In the loft I live, - Early do I wake; - Asleep or awake - Cockroaches devour me." - -"He is not downhearted!" exclaimed his audience. - -Sometimes Pavl and I went to him, and he joked with difficulty. - -"With what shall I regale you, my dear guests? A fresh little -spider--would you like that?" - -He died slowly, and he grew very weary of it. He said with unfeigned -vexation: - -"It seems that I can't die, somehow; it is really a calamity!" - -His fearlessness in the face of death frightened Pavl very much. He -awoke me in the night and whispered: - -"Maximich, he seems to be dying. Suppose he dies in the night, when we -are lying beneath him--Oh, Lord! I am frightened of dead people." - -Or he would say: - -"Why was he born? Not twenty-two years have passed over his head and he -is dying." - -Once, on a moonlight night he awoke, and gazing with wide-open, -terrified eyes said: - -"Listen!" - -Davidov was croaking in the loft, saying quickly and clearly: - -"Give it to me--give--" - -Then he began to hiccup. - -"He is dying, by God he is; you see!" said Pavl agitatedly. - -I had been carrying snow from the yard into the fields all day, and I -was very sleepy, but Pavl begged me: - -"Don't go to sleep, please; for Christ's sake don't go to sleep!" - -And suddenly getting on to his knees, he cried frenziedly: - -"Get up! Davidov is dead!" - -Some of them awoke; several figures rose from the beds; angry voices -were raised, asking questions. - -Kapendiukhin climbed up into the loft and said in a tone of amazement: - -"It is a fact; he is dead, although he is still warm." It was quiet -now. Jikharev crossed himself, and wrapping himself round in his -blanket, said: - -"Well, he is in the Kingdom of Heaven now!" Some one suggested: - -"Let us carry him into the vestibule." - -Kapendiukhin climbed down from the loft and glanced through the window. - -"Let him lie where he is till the morning; he never hurt any one while -he was alive." - -Pavl, hiding his head under the pillow, sobbed. - -But Sitanov did not even wake! - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -The snow melted away from the fields; the wintry clouds in the sky -passed away; wet snow and rain fell upon the earth; the sun was slower -and slower in performing his daily journey; the air grew warmer; and it -seemed that the joyful spring had already arrived, sportively hiding -herself behind the fields, and would soon burst upon the town itself. -In the streets there was brown mud; streams ran along the gutters; in -the thawed places of Arestantski Square the sparrows hopped joyfully. -And in human creatures, also, was apparent the same excitement -as was shown by the sparrows. Above the sounds of spring, almost -uninterruptedly from morning to night, rang out the Lenten bells, -stirring one's heart with their muffled strokes. In that sound, as in -the speech of an old man, there was hidden something of displeasure, as -if the bells had said with cold melancholy: - -"Has been, this has been, has been--" - -On my name-day the workmen gave me a small, beautifully painted image -of Alexei, the man of God, and Jikharev made an impressive, long -speech, which I remember very well. - -"What are you?" said he, with much play of finger and raising of -eyebrows. "Nothing more than a small boy, an orphan, thirteen years -old--and I, nearly four times your age, praise you and approve of you, -because you always stand with your face to people and not sideways! -Stand like that always, and you will be all right!" - -He spoke of the slaves of God, and of his people, but the difference -between people and slaves I could never understand, and I don't believe -that he understood it himself. His speech was long-winded, the workshop -was laughing at him, and I stood, with the image in my hand, very -touched and very confused, not knowing what I ought to do. At length -Kapendiukhin called out irritably: - -"Oh, leave off singing his praises; his ears are already turning blue!" - -Then clapping me on the shoulder, he began to praise me himself: - -"What is good in you is what you have in common with all human -creatures, and not the fact that it is difficult to scold and beat you -when you have given cause for it!" - -They all looked at me with kind eyes, making good-natured fun of my -confusion. A little more and I believe I should have burst out crying -from the unexpected joy of finding myself valued by these people. And -that very morning the shopman had said to Petr Vassilich, nodding his -head toward me: - -"An unpleasant boy that, and good for nothing!" - -As usual I had gone to the shop in the morning, but at noon the shopman -had said to me: - -"Go home and clear the snow off the roof of the warehouse, and clean -out the cellar." - -That it was my name-day he did not know, and I had thought that no -one knew it. When the ceremony of congratulations had finished in the -workshop, I changed my clothes and climbed up to the roof of the shed -to throw off the smooth, heavy snow which had accumulated during that -winter. But being excited, I forgot to close the door of the cellar, -and threw all the snow into it. When I jumped down to the ground, I saw -my mistake, and set myself at once to get the snow away from the door. -Being wet, it lay heavily; the wooden, spade moved it with difficulty; -there was no iron one, and I broke the spade at the very moment when -the shopman appeared at the yard-gate. The truth of the Russian -proverb, "Sorrow follows on the heels of joy," was proved to me. - -"So--o--o!" said the shopman derisively, "you are a fine workman, -the devil take you! If I get hold of your senseless blockhead--" He -flourished the blade of the shovel over me. - -I move away, saying angrily: - -"I was n't engaged as a yardman, anyhow." - -He hurled the stick against my legs. I took up a snowball and threw -it right in his face. He ran away snorting, and I left off working, -and went into the workshop. In a few minutes his fiancée came running -downstairs. She was an agile maiden, with pimples on her vacant face. - -"Maximich, you are to go upstairs!" - -"I am not going!" I said. - -Larionich asked in an amazed undertone: - -"What is this? You are not going?" - -I told him about the affair. With an anxious frown he went upstairs, -muttering to me: - -"Oh, you impudent youngster--" - -The workshop resounded with abuse of the shopman, and Kapendiukhin said: - -"Well, they will kick you out this time!" - -This did not alarm me. My relations with the shopman had already become -unbearable. His hatred of me was undisguised and became more and more -acute, while, for my part, I could not endure him. But what I wanted -to know was: why did he behave so absurdly to me? He would throw coins -about the floor of the shop, and when I was sweeping, I found them, and -laid them on the counter in the cup which contained the small money -kept for beggars. When I guessed what these frequent finds meant I said -to him: - -"You throw money about in my way on purpose!" He flew out at me and -cried incautiously: - -"Don't you dare to teach me! I know what I am doing!" - -But he corrected himself immediately: - -"And what do you mean by my throwing it about purposely? It falls about -itself." - -He forbade me to read the books in the shop, saying: - -"That is not for you to trouble your head about! What! Have you an -idea of becoming a valuer, sluggard?" - -He did not cease his attempts to catch me in the theft of small money, -and I realised that if, when I was sweeping the floor, the coin should -roll into a crevice between the boards, he would declare that I had -stolen it. Then I told him again that he had better give up that game, -but that same day, when I returned from the tavern with the boiling -water, I heard him suggesting to the newly engaged assistant in the -neighboring shop: - -"Egg him on to steal psalters. We shall soon be having three hampers of -them." - -I knew that they were talking about me, for when I entered the shop -they both looked confused; and besides these signs, I had grounds for -suspecting them of a foolish conspiracy against me. - -This was not the first time that that assistant had been in the service -of the man next door. He was accounted a clever salesman, but he -suffered from alcoholism; in one of his drinking bouts the master had -dismissed him, but had afterwards taken him back. He was an anaemic, -feeble person, with cunning eyes. Apparently amiable and submissive -to the slightest gesture of his master, he smiled a little, clever -smile in his beard all the time, was fond of uttering sharp sayings, -and exhaled the rotten smell which comes from people with bad teeth, -although his own were white and strong. - -One day he gave me a terrible surprise; he came towards me smiling -pleasantly, but suddenly seized my cap off my head and took hold of -my hair. We began to struggle. He pushed me from the gallery into the -shop, trying all the time to throw me against the large images which -stood about on the floor. If he had succeeded in this, I should have -broken the glass, or chipped the carving, and no doubt scratched some -of the costly icons. He was very weak, and I soon overcame him; when to -my great amazement the bearded man sat on the floor and cried bitterly, -rubbing his bruised nose. - -The next morning when our masters had both gone out somewhere and we -were alone, he said to me in a friendly manner, rubbing the lump on the -bridge of his nose and under his eyes with his finger: - -"Do you think that it was of my own will or desire that I attacked -you? I am not a fool, you know, and I knew that you would be more than -a match for me. I am a man of little strength, a tippler. It was your -master who told me to do it. 'Lead him on,' he said, 'and get him to -break something in the shop while he is fighting you. Let him damage -something, anyhow!' I should never have done it of my own accord; look -how you have ornamented my phiz for me." - -I believed him, and I began to be sorry for him. I knew that he lived, -half-starved, with a woman who knocked him about. However, I asked him: - -"And if he told you to poison a person, I suppose you would do it?" - -"He might do that," said the shopman with a pitiful smile; "he is -capable of it." - -Soon after this he asked me: - -"Listen, I have not a farthing; there is nothing to eat at home; my -missus nags at me. Couldn't you take an icon out of your stock and give -it to me to sell, like a friend, eh? Will you? Or a breviary?" - -I remembered the boot-shop, and the beadle of the church, and I -thought: "Will this man give me away?" But it was hard to refuse him, -and I gave him an icon. To steal a breviary worth several rubles, that -I could not do; it seemed, to me a great crime. What would you have? -Arithmetic always lies concealed in ethics; the holy ingenuousness of -"Regulations for the Punishment of Criminals" clearly gives away this -little secret, behind which the great lie of property hides itself. - -When I heard my shopman suggesting that this miserable man should -incite me to steal psalters I was afraid. It was clear that he knew how -charitable I had been on the other's behalf, and that the man from next -door had told him about the icon. - -The abominableness of being charitable at another person's expense, -and the realization of the rotten trap that had been set for me--both -these things aroused in me a feeling of indignation and disgust with -myself and every one else. For several days I tormented myself cruelly, -waiting for the arrival of the hamper with the books. At length they -came, and when I was putting them away in the store-room, the shopman -from next door came to me and asked me to give him a breviary. - -Then I asked him: - -"Did you tell my master about the icon?" - -"I did," he answered in a melancholy voice; "I can keep nothing back, -brother." - -This utterly confounded me, and I sat on the floor staring at him -stupidly, while he muttered hurriedly, confusedly, desperately -miserable: - -"You see your man guessed--or rather, mine guessed and told yours--" - -I thought I was lost. These people had been conspiring against me, and -now there was a place ready for me in the colony for youthful criminals! -If that were so, nothing mattered! If one must drown, it is better -to drown in a deep spot. I put a breviary into the hands of the -shopman; he hid it in the sleeves of his greatcoat and went away. But -he returned suddenly, the breviary fell at my feet, and the man strode -away, saying: - -"I won't take it! It would be all over with you." I did not understand -these words. Why should it be all over with me? But I was very glad -that he had not taken the book. After this my little shopman began to -regard me with more disfavor and suspicion than ever. - -I remembered all this when Larionich went upstairs. He did not stay -there long, and came back more depressed and quiet than usual, but -before supper he said to me privately: - -"I tried to arrange for you to be set free from the shop, and given -over to the workshop, but it was no good. Kouzma would not have it. You -are very much out of favor with him." - -I had an enemy in the house, too--the shopman's fiancée, an -immoderately sportive damsel. All the young fellows in the workshop -played about with her; they used to wait for her in the vestibule and -embrace her. This did not offend her; she only squeaked like a little -dog. She was chewing something from morning to night; her pockets were -always full of gingerbread or buns; her jaws moved ceaselessly. To -look at her vacant face with its restless gray eyes was unpleasant. -She used to ask Pavl and me riddles which always concealed some coarse -obscenity, and repeated catchwords which, being said very quickly, -became improper words. - -One day one of the elderly workmen said to her: - -"You are a shameless hussy, my girl!" - -To which she answered swiftly, in the words of a ribald song: - - "If a maiden is too modest, - She 'll never be a woman worth having." - -It was the first time I had ever seen such a girl. She disgusted and -frightened me with her coarse playfulness, and seeing that her antics -were not agreeable to me, she became more and more spiteful toward me. - -Once when Pavl and I were in the cellar helping her to steam out the -casks of kvass and cucumbers she suggested: - -"Would you like me to teach you how to kiss, boys?" - -"I know how to kiss better than you do," Pavl answered, and I told her -to go and kiss her future husband. I did not say it very politely, -either. - -She was angry. - -"Oh, you coarse creature! A young lady makes herself agreeable to him -and he turns up his nose. Well, I never! What a ninny!" - -And she added, shaking a threatening finger at me: "You just wait. I -will remember that of you!" But Pavl said to her, taking my part: - -"Your young man would give you something if he knew about your -behavior!" - -She screwed up her pimply face contemptuously. - -"I am not afraid of him! I have a dowry. I am much better than he is! A -girl only has the time till she is married to amuse herself." - -She began to play about with Pavl, and from that time I found in her an -unwearying calumniator. - -My life in the shop became harder and harder. I read church books all -the time. The disputes and conversations of the valuers had ceased to -amuse me, for they were always talking over the same things in the same -old way. Petr Vassilich alone still interested me, with his knowledge -of the dark side of human life, and his power of speaking interestingly -and enthusiastically. Sometimes I thought he must be the prophet Elias -walking the earth, solitary and vindictive. But each time that I spoke -to the old man frankly about people, or about my own thoughts, he -repeated all that I had said to the shopman, who either ridiculed me -offensively, or abused me angrily. - -One day I told the old man that I sometimes wrote his sayings in the -note-book in which I had copied various poems taken out of books. This -greatly alarmed the valuer, who limped towards me swiftly, asking -anxiously: - -"What did you do that for? It is not worth while, my lad. So that you -may remember? No; you just give it up. What a boy you are! Now you will -give me what you have written, won't you?" - -He tried long and earnestly to persuade me to either give him the -notebook, or to burn it, and then he began to whisper angrily with the -shopman. - -As we were going home, the latter said to me: "You have been taking -notes? That has got to be' stopped! Do you hear? Only detectives do -that sort of thing!" - -Then I asked incautiously: - -"And what about Sitanov? He also takes notes." "Also. That long fool?" - -He was silent for a long time, and then with unusual gentleness he said: - -"Listen; if you show me your note-book and Sitanov's, too, I will give -you half a ruble! Only do it on the quiet, so that Sitanov does not -see." - -No doubt he thought that I would carry out his wish, and without -saying another word, he ran in front of me on his short legs. - -When I reached the house, I told Sitanov what the shopman had proposed -to me. Evgen frowned. - -"You have been chattering purposely. Now he will give some one -instructions to steal both our notebooks. Give me yours--I will hide -it. And he will turn you out before long--you see!" - -I was convinced of that, too, and resolved to leave as soon as -grandmother returned to the town. She had been living at Balakhania -all the winter, invited by some one to teach young girls to make lace. -Grandfather was again living in Kunavin Street, but I did not visit -him, and when he came to the town, he never came to see me. One day -we ran into each other in the street. He was walking along in a heavy -racoon pelisse, importantly and slowly. I said "How do you do" to him. -He lifted his hands to shade his eyes, looked at me from under them, -and then said thoughtfully: - -"Oh, it is you; you are an image-painter now. Yes, yes; all right; get -along with you." - -Pushing me out of his way, he continued his walk, slowly and -importantly. - -I saw grandmother seldom. She worked unweariedly to feed grandfather, -who was suffering from the malady of old age--senile weakness--and had -also taken upon herself the care of my uncle's children. - -The one who caused her the most worry was Sascha, Mikhail's son, a -handsome lad, dreamy and book-loving. He worked in a dyer's shop, -frequently changed his employers, and in the intervals threw himself -on grandmother's shoulders, calmly waiting until she should find him -another place. She had Sascha's sister on her shoulders, too. She had -made an unfortunate marriage with a drunken workman, who beat her and -turned her out of his house. - -Every time I met grandmother, I was more consciously charmed by her -personality; but I felt already that that beautiful soul, blinded -by fanciful tales, was not capable of seeing, could not understand -a revelation of the bitter reality of life, and my disquietude and -restlessness were strange to her. - -"You must have patience, Olesha!" - -This was all she had to say to me in reply to my stories of the hideous -lives, of the tortures of people, of sorrow--of all which perplexed me, -and with which I was burning. - -I was unfitted by nature to be patient, and if occasionally I exhibited -that virtue which belongs to cattle, trees, and stones, I did so in the -cause of self-discipline, to test my reserves of strength, my degree -of stability upon earth. Sometimes young people, with the stupidity of -youth, will keep on trying to lift weights too heavy for their muscles -and bones; will try boastfully, like full-grown men of proved strength, -to cross themselves with heavy weights, envious of the strength of -their elders. - -I also did this in a double sense, physically and spiritually, and it -is only due to some chance that I did not strain myself dangerously, or -deform myself for the rest of my life. Besides, nothing disfigures a -man more terribly than his patience, the submission of his strength to -external conditions. - -And though in the end I shall lie in the earth disfigured, I can say, -not without pride, to my last hour, that good people did their best for -forty years to disfigure my soul, but that their labors were not very -successful. - -The wild desire to play mischievous pranks, to amuse people, to make -them laugh, took more and more hold upon me. I was successful in -this. I could tell stories about the merchants in the market-place, -impersonating them; I could imitate the peasant men and women buying -and selling icons, the shopman skilfully cheating them; the valuers -disputing amongst themselves. - -The workshop resounded with laughter. Often the workmen left their work -to look on at my impersonations, but on all these occasions Larionich -would say: - -"You had better do your acting after supper; otherwise you hinder the -work." - -When I had finished my performance I felt myself easier, as if I had -thrown off a burden which weighed upon me. For half an hour or an hour -my head felt pleasantly clear, but soon it felt again as if it were -full of sharp, small nails, which moved about and grew hot. It seemed -to me that a sort of dirty porridge was boiling around me, and that I -was being gradually boiled away in it. - -I wondered: Was life really like this? And should I have to live as -these people lived, never finding, never seeing anything better? - -"You are growing sulky, Maximich," said Jikharev, looking at me -attentively. - -Sitanov often asked me: - -"What is the matter with you?" - -And I could not answer him. - -Life perseveringly and roughly washed out from my soul its most -delicate writings, maliciously changing them into some sort of -indistinct trash, and with anger and determination I resisted its -violence. I was floating on the same river as all the others, only for -me the waters were colder and did not support me as easily as it did -the others. Sometimes it seemed to me that I was gently sinking into -unfathomable depths. - -People behaved better to me; they did not shout at me as they did -at Pavl, nor harass me; they called me by my patronymic in order to -emphasize their more respectful attitude toward me. This was good; but -it was torturing to see how many of them drank vodka, how disgustingly -drunk they became, and how injurious to them were their relations -with women, although I understood that vodka and women were the only -diversions that life afforded. - -I often called to mind with sorrow that that most intelligent, -courageous woman, Natalia Kozlovski, was also called a woman of -pleasure. And what about grandmother? And Queen Margot? - -I used to think of my queen with a feeling almost of terror; she was so -removed from all the others, it was as if I had seen her in a dream. - -I began to think too much about women, and I had already revolved in -my own mind the question: Shall I go on the next holiday where all -the others go? This was no physical desire. I was both healthy and -fastidious, but at times I was almost mad with a desire to embrace some -one tender, intelligent, and frankly, unrestrainedly, as to a mother, -speak to her of the disturbances of my soul. - -I envied Pavl when he told me at night of his affair with a maidservant -in the opposite house. - -"It is a funny thing, brother! A month ago I was throwing snowballs at -her because I did not like her, and now I sit on a bench and hug her. -She is dearer to me than any one!" - -"What do you talk about?" - -"About everything, of course! She talks to me about herself, and I talk -to her about myself. And then we kiss--only she is honest. In fact, -brother, she is so good that it is almost a misfortune! Why, you smoke -like an old soldier!" - -I smoked a lot; tobacco intoxicated me, dulled my restless thoughts, -my agitated feelings. As for vodka, it only aroused in me a repulsion -toward my own odor and taste, but Pavl drank with a will, and when he -was drunk, used to cry bitterly: - -"I want to go home, I want to go home! Let me go home!" - -As far as I can remember he was an orphan; his mother and father had -been dead a long time. Brother and sister he had none; he had lived -among strangers for eight years. - -In this state of restless dissatisfaction the call of spring disturbed -me still more. I made up my mind to go on a boat again, and if I could -get as far as Astrakhan, to run away to Persia. - -I do not remember why I selected Persia particularly. It may have been -because I had taken a great fancy to the Persian merchants on the -Nijigorodski market-place, sitting like stone idols, spreading their -dyed beards in the sun, calmly smoking their hookas, with large, dark, -omniscient eyes. - -There is no doubt that I should have run away somewhere, but one day -in Easter week, when part of the occupants of the workshop had gone to -their homes, and the rest were drinking, I was walking on a sunny day -on the banks of the Oka, when I met my old master, grandmother's nephew. - -He was walking along in a light gray overcoat, with his hands in his -pockets, a cigarette between his teeth, his hat on the back of his -head. His pleasant face smiled kindly at me. He had the appearance -of a man who is at liberty and is happy, and there was no one beside -ourselves in the fields. - -"Ah, Pyeshkov, Christ is risen!" - -After we had exchanged the Easter kiss, he asked how I was living, -and I told him frankly that the workshop, the town and everything in -general were abhorrent to me, and that I had made up my mind to go to -Persia. - -"Give it up," he said to me gravely. "What the devil is there in -Persia? I know exactly how you are feeling, brother; in my youth I also -had the wander fever." - -I liked him for telling me this. There was something about him good and -springlike; he was a being set apart. - -"Do you smoke?" he asked, holding out a silver cigarette-case full of -fat cigarettes. - -That completed his conquest of me. - -"What you had better do, Pyeshkov, is to come back to me again," he -suggested. "For this year I have undertaken contracts for the new -market-place, you understand. And I can make use of you there; you -will be a kind of overseer for me; you will receive all the material; -you will see that it is all in its proper place, and that the workmen -do not steal it. Will that suit you? Your wages will be five rubles a -month, and five copecks for dinner! The women-folk will have nothing to -do with you; you will go out in the morning and return in the evening. -As for the women; you can ignore them; only don't let them know that we -have met, but just come to see us on Sunday at Phomin Street. It will -be a change for you!" - -We parted like friends. As he said good-by, he pressed my hand, and as -he went away, he actually waved his hat to me affably from a distance. - -When I announced in the workroom that I was leaving, most of the -workmen showed a flattering regret. Pavl, especially, was upset. - -"Think," he said reproachfully; "how will you live with men of all -kinds, after being with us? With carpenters, house-painters--Oh, -you--It is going out of the frying-pan into the fire." - -Jikharev growled: - -"A fish looks for the deepest place, but a clever young man seeks a -worse place!" - -The send-off which they gave me from the workshop was a sad one. - -"Of course one must try this and that," said Jikharev, who was yellow -from the effects of a drinking bout. "It is better to do it straight -off, before you become too closely attached to something or other." - -"And that for the rest of your life," added Larionich softly. - -But I felt that they spoke with constraint, and from a sense of duty. -The thread which had bound me to them was somehow rotted and broken. - -In the loft drunken Golovev rolled about, and muttered hoarsely: - -"I would like to see them all in prison. I know their secrets! Who -believes in God here? Aha-a--!" - -As usual, faceless, uncompleted icons were propped against the wall; -the glass balls were fixed to the ceiling. It was long since we had -had to work with a light, and the balls, not being used, were covered -with a gray coating of soot and dust. I remember the surroundings so -vividly that if I shut my eyes, I can see in the darkness the whole -of that basement room: all the tables, and the jars of paint on the -windowsills, the bundles of brushes, the icons, the slop-pail under -the brass washstand-basin which looked like a fireman's helmet, and, -hanging from the ceiling, Golovev's bare foot, which was blue like the -foot of a drowned man. - -I wanted to get away quickly, but in Russia they love long-drawn-out, -sad moments. When they are saying good-by, Russian people behave as if -they were hearing a requiem mass. - -Jikharev, twitching his brows, said to me: - -"That book--the devil's book--I can't give it back to you. Will you -take two _greven_ for it?" - -The book was my own,--the old second lieutenant of the fire-brigade had -given it to me--and I grudged giving Lermontov away. But when, somewhat -offended, I refused the money, Jikharev calmly put the coins back in -his purse, and said in an unwavering tone: - -"As you like; but I shall not give you back the book. It is not for -you. A book like that would soon lead you into sin." - -"But it is sold in shops; I have seen it!" - -But he only said with redoubled determination: - -"That has nothing to do with the matter; they sell revolvers in shops, -too--" - -So he never returned Lermontov to me. - -As I was going upstairs to say good-by to my mistress, I ran into her -niece in the hall. - -"Is it true what they say--that you are leaving?" - -"Yes." - -"If you had not gone of your own accord, you would have been sent -away," she assured me, not very kindly, but with perfect frankness. - -And the tipsy mistress said: - -"Good-by, Christ be with you! You are a bad boy, an impudent boy; -although I have never seen anything bad in you myself, they all say -that you are a bad boy!" And suddenly she burst out crying, and said -through her tears: - -"Ah, if my dead one, my sweet husband, dear soul, had been alive, he -would have known how to deal with you; he would have boxed your ears -and you would have stayed on. We should not have had to send you away! -But nowadays things are different; if all is not exactly as you like, -away you go! Och! And where will you be going, boy, and what good will -it do you to stroll from place to place?" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -I was in a boat with my master, passing along the market-place between -shops which were flooded to the height of the second story. I plied -the oars, while my master sat in the stern. The paddle wheel, which -was useless as a rudder, was deep in the water, and the boat veered -about awkwardly, meandering from street to street on the quiet, muddily -sleepy waters. - -"Ekh! The water gets higher and higher. The devil take it! It is -keeping the work back," grumbled my master as he smoked a cigar, the -smoke of which had an odor of burning cloth. "Gently!" he cried in -alarm, "we are running into a lamp-post!" - -He steered the boat out of danger and scolded me: "They have given me a -boat, the wretches!" - -He showed me the spot on which, after the water had subsided, the work -of rebuilding would begin. With his face shaved to a bluish tint, -his mustache clipped short, and a cigar in his mouth, he did not -look like a contractor. He wore a leathern jacket, high boots to his -knees, and a game-bag was slung over his shoulders. At his feet was an -expensive two-barelled gun, manufactured by Lebed. From time to time he -restlessly changed the position of his leathern cap, pulling it over -his eyes, pouting his lips and looking cautiously around. He pushed the -cap to the back of his head, looked younger, and smiled beneath his -mustache, thinking of something pleasant. No one would have thought -that he had a lot of work to do, and that the long time the water took -in subsiding worried him. Evidently thoughts wholly unconnected with -business were passing through his mind. - -And I was overwhelmed by a feeling of quiet amazement; it seemed so -strange to look upon that dead town, the straight rows of buildings -with closed windows. The town was simply flooded with water, and seemed -to be floating past our boat. The sky was gray. The sun had been lost -in the clouds, but sometimes shone through them in large, silver, -wintry patches. - -The water also was gray and cold; its flow was unnoticeable; it seemed -to be congealed, fixed to one place, like the empty houses beside the -shops, which were painted a dirty yellow. When the pale sun looked -through the clouds, all around grew slightly brighter. The water -reflected the gray texture of the sky; our boat seemed to hang in the -air between two skies; the stone buildings also lifted themselves up, -and with a scarcely perceptible movement floated toward the Volga, or -the Oka. Around the boat were broken casks, boxes, baskets, fragments -of wood and straw; sometimes a rod or joist of wood floated like a dead -snake on the surface. - -Here and there windows were opened. On the roofs of the rows of -galleries linen was drying, or felt boots stuck out. A woman looked -out of a window onto the gray waters. A boat was moored to the top of -the cast-iron columns of a galley; her red deck made the reflection of -the water look greasy and meat-like. - -Nodding his head at these signs of life, my master explained to me: - -"This is where the market watchman lives. He climbs out of the window -onto the roof, gets into his boat, and goes out to see if there are any -thieves about. And if there are none, he thieves on his own account." - -He spoke lazily, calmly, thinking of something else. All around was -quiet, deserted, and unreal, as if it were part of a dream. The Volga -and the Oka flowed into an enormous lake; in the distance on a rugged -hillside the town was painted in motley colors. Gardens were still -somberly clothed, but the buds were bursting on the trees, and foliage -clad houses and churches in a warm, green mantle. Over the water crept -the muffled sound of the Easter-tide bells. The murmur of the town was -audible, while here it was just like a forgotten graveyard. - -Our boat wended its way between two rows of black trees; we were on the -high road to the old cathedral. The cigar was in my master's way; its -acrid smoke got into his eyes and caused him to run the nose of the -boat into the trunks of the trees. Upon which he cried, irritably and -in surprise: - -"What a rotten boat this is!" - -"But you are not steering it." - -"How can I?" he grumbled. "When there are two people in a boat, one -always rows while the other steers. There--look! There's the Chinese -block." - -I knew the market through and through; I knew that comical-looking -block of buildings with the ridiculous roofs on which sat, with crossed -legs, figures of Chinamen in plaster of Paris. There had been a time -when I and my playfellow had thrown stones at them, and some of the -Chinamen had had their heads and hands broken off by me. But I no -longer took any pride in that sort of thing. - -"Rubbish!" said my master, pointing to the block. "If I had been -allowed to build it--" - -He whistled and pushed his cap to the back of his head. - -But somehow I thought that he would have built that town of stone just -as dingily, on that low-lying ground which was flooded by the waters -of two rivers every year. And he would even have invented the Chinese -block. - -Throwing his cigar over the side of the boat, he spat after it in -disgust, saying: - -"Life is very dull, Pyeshkov, very dull. There are no educated -people--no one to talk to. If one wants to show off one's gifts, who is -there to be impressed? Not a soul! All the people here are carpenters, -stonemasons, peasants--" - -He looked straight ahead at the white mosque which rose picturesquely -out of the water on a small hill, and continued as if he were -recollecting something he had forgotten: - -"I began to drink beer and smoke cigars when I was working under a -German. The Germans, my brother, are a business-like race--such wild -fowl! Drinking beer is a pleasant occupation, but I have never got -used to smoking cigars. And when you 've been smoking, your wife -grumbles: 'What is it that you smell of? It is like the smell at the -harness-makers.' Ah, brother, the longer we live, the more artful we -grow. Well, well, true to oneself--" - -Placing the oar against the side of the boat, he took up his gun and -shot at a Chinaman on a roof. No harm came to the latter; the shot -buried itself in the roof and the wall, raising a dusty smoke. - -"That was a miss," he admitted without regret, and he again loaded his -gun. - -"How do you get on with the girls? Are you keen on them? No? Why, I was -in love when I was only thirteen." - -He told me, as if he were telling a dream, the story of his first love -for the housemaid of the architect to whom he had been apprenticed. -Softly splashed the gray water, washing the corners of the buildings; -beyond the cathedral dully gleamed a watery waste; black twigs rose -here and there above it. In the icon-painter's workshop they often sang -the Seminarski song: - - "O blue sea, - Stormy sea...." - -That blue sea must have been deadly dull. - -"I never slept at nights," went on my master. "Sometimes I got out of -bed and stood at her door, shivering like a dog. It was a cold house! -The master visited her at night. He might have discovered me, but I was -not afraid, not I!" - -He spoke thoughtfully, like a person looking at an old worn-out coat, -and wondering if he could wear it once more. - -"She noticed me, pitied me, unfastened her door, and called me: 'Come -in, you little fool.'" - -I had heard many stories of this kind, and they bored me, although -there was one pleasing feature about them--almost every one spoke of -their "first love" without boasting, or obscenity, and often so gently -and sadly that I understood that the story of their first love was the -best in their lives. - -Laughing and shaking his head, my master exclaimed wonderingly: - -"But that's the sort of thing you don't tell your wife; no, no! Well, -there's no harm in it, but you never tell. That's a story--" - -He was telling the story to himself, not to me. If he had been silent, -I should have spoken. In that quietness and desolation one had to talk, -or sing, or play on the harmonica, or one would fall into a heavy, -eternal sleep in the midst of that dead town, drowned in gray, cold -water. - -"In the first place, don't marry too soon," he counseled me. "Marriage, -brother, is a matter of the most stupendous importance. You can live -where you like and how you like, according to your will. You can live -in Persia as a Mahommedan; in Moscow as a man about town. You can -arrange your life as you choose. You can give everything a trial. But a -wife, brother, is like the weather--you can never rule her! You can't -take a wife and throw her aside like an old boot." - -His face changed. He gazed into the gray water with knitted brows, -rubbing his prominent nose with his fingers, and muttered: - -"Yes, brother, look before you leap. Let us suppose that you are beset -on all sides, and still continue to stand firm; even then there is a -special trap laid for each one of us." - -We were now amongst the vegetation in the lake of Meshtcherski, which -was fed by the Volga. - -"Row softly," whispered my master, pointing his gun into the bushes. -After he had shot a few lean woodcocks, he suggested: - -"Let us go to Kunavin Street. I will spend the evening there, and you -can go home and say that I am detained by the contractors." - -Setting him down at one of the streets on the outskirts of the -town, which was also flooded, I returned to the market-place on the -Stravelka, moored the boat, and sitting in it, gazed at the confluence -of the two rivers, at the town, the steamboats, the sky, which was -just like the gorgeous wing of some gigantic bird, all white feathery -clouds. The golden sun peeped through the blue gaps between the clouds, -and with one glance at the earth transfigured everything thereon. -Brisk, determined movement went on all around me: the swift current of -the rivers lightly bore innumerable planks of wood; on these planks -bearded peasants stood firmly, wielding long poles and shouting to one -another, or to approaching steamers. A little steamer was pulling an -empty barge against the stream. The river dragged at it, and shook it. -It turned its nose round like a pike and panted, firmly setting its -wheels against the water, which was rushing furiously to meet it. On a -barge with their legs hanging over the side sat four peasants, shoulder -to shoulder. One of them wore a red shirt, and sang a song the words of -which I could not hear, but I knew it. - -I felt that here on the living river I knew all, was in touch with -all, and could understand all; and the town which lay flooded behind -me was an evil dream, an imagination of my master's, as difficult to -understand as he was himself. - -When I had satiated myself by gazing at all there was to see, I -returned home, feeling that I was a grown man, capable of any kind of -work. On the way I looked from the hill of the Kreml on to the Volga in -the distance. From the hill, the earth appeared enormous, and promised -all that one could possibly desire. - -I had books at home. In the flat which Queen Margot had occupied -there now lived a large family,--five young ladies, each one more -beautiful than the others, and two schoolboys--and these people used -to give me books. I read Turgenieff with avidity, amazed to find how -intelligible, simple, and pellucid as autumn he was; how pure were -his characters, and how good everything was about which he succinctly -discoursed. I read Pomyalovski's "Bourse" and was again amazed; it was -so strangely like the life in the icon-painting workshop. I was so well -acquainted with that desperate tedium which precipitated one into cruel -pranks. I enjoyed reading Russian books. I always felt that there was -something about them familiar and melancholy, as if there were hidden -in their pages the frozen sound of the Lenten bell, which pealed forth -softly as soon as one opened a book. - -"Dead Souls" I read reluctantly; "Letters from the House of the -Dead," also. "Dead Souls," "Dead Houses," "Three Deaths," "Living -Relics"--these books with titles so much alike arrested my attention -against my will, and aroused a lethargic repugnance for all such books. -"Signs of the Times," "Step by Step," "What to Do," and "Chronicles -of the Village of Smourin," I did not care for, nor any other books -of the same kind. But I was delighted with Dickens and Walter Scott. -I read these authors with the greatest enjoyment, the same books over -and over again. The works of Walter Scott reminded me of a high mass -on a great feast day in rich churches--somewhat long and tedious, but -always solemn. Dickens still remains to me as the author to whom I -respectfully bow; he was a man who had a wonderful apprehension of that -most difficult of arts--love of human nature. - -In the evenings a large company of people used to gather on the roof: -the brothers K. and their sisters, grown up; the snub-nosed schoolboy, -Vyacheslav Semashko; and sometimes Miss Ptitzin, the daughter of an -important official, appeared there, too. They talked of books and -poetry. This was something which appealed to me, and which I could -understand; I had read more than all of them together. But sometimes -they talked about the high school, and complained about the teachers. -When I listened to these recitals, I felt that I had more liberty than -my friends, and was amazed at their patience. And yet I envied them; -they had opportunities of learning! - -My comrades were older than I, but I felt that I was the elder. I was -keener-witted, more experienced than they. This worried me somewhat; -I wanted to feel more in touch with them. I used to get home late in -the evening, dusty and dirty, steeped in impressions very different -from theirs--in the main very monotonous. They talked a lot about young -ladies, and of being in love with this one and that one, and they used -to try their hands at writing poetry. They frequently solicited my help -in this matter. I willingly applied myself to versification, and it was -easy for me to find the rhymes, but for some reason or other my verses -always took a humorous turn, and I never could help associating Miss -Ptitzin, to whom the poetry was generally dedicated, with fruits and -vegetables. - -Semashko said to me: - -"Do you call that poetry? It is as much like poetry as hobnails would -be." - -Not wishing to be behind them in anything, I also fell in love with -Miss Ptitzin. I do not remember how I declared my feelings, but I -know that the affair ended badly. On the stagnant green water of the -Zvyezdin Pond floated a plank, and I proposed to give the young lady a -ride on it. She agreed. I brought the log to the bank; it held me alone -quite well. But when the gorgeously dressed young lady, all ribbons and -lace, graciously stepped on the other end, and I proudly pushed off -with a stick, the accursed log rolled away from under us and my young -lady went head over heels into the water. - -I threw myself in knightly fashion after her, and swiftly brought her -to shore. Fright and the green mire of the pond had quite destroyed her -beauty! Shaking her wet fist at me threateningly, she cried: - -"You threw me in the water on purpose!" - -And refusing to believe in the sincerity of my protestations, from that -time she treated me as an enemy. - -On the whole, I did not find living in the town very interesting. -My old mistress was as hostile as she had ever been; the young one -regarded me with contempt; Victorushka more freckled than ever, snorted -at every one, and was everlastingly aggrieved about something. - -My master had many plans to draw. He could not get through all the work -with his brother, and so he engaged my stepfather as assistant. - -One day I came home from the market-place early, about five o'clock, -and going into the dining-room, saw the man whose existence I had -forgotten, at the table beside the master. He held his hand out to me. - -"How do you do?" - -I drew back at the unexpectedness of it. The fire of the past had been -suddenly rekindled, and burned my heart. - -My stepfather looked at me with a smile on his terribly emaciated face; -his dark eyes were larger than ever. He looked altogether worn out and -depressed. I placed my hand in his thin, hot fingers. - -"Well, so we 've met again," he said, coughing. - -I left them, feeling as weak as if I had been beaten. - -Our manner to each other was cautious and restrained; he called me by -my first name and my patronymic, and spoke to me as an equal. - -"When you go to the shops, please buy me a quarter of a pound of -Lapherm's tobacco, a hundred packets of Vitcorson's, and a pound of -boiled sausage." - -The money which he gave me was always unpleasantly heated by his hot -hands. It was plain that he was a consumptive, and not long to be an -inhabitant of this earth. He knew this, and would say in a calm, deep -voice, twisting his pointed black beard: - -"My illness is almost incurable. However, if I take plenty of meat I -may get better--I may get better." - -He ate an unbelievably large amount; he smoked cigarettes, which -were only out of his lips when he was eating. Every day I bought him -sausages, ham, sardines, but grandmother's sister said with an air of -certainty, and for some reason maliciously: - -"It is no use to feed Death with dainties; you cannot deceive him." - -The mistress regarded my stepfather with an air of injury, -reproachfully advised him to try this or that medicine, but made fun of -him behind his back. - -"A fine gentleman? The crumbs ought to be swept up more often in the -dining-room, he says; crumbs cause the flies to multiply, he says." - -The young mistress said this, and the old mistress repeated after her: - -"What do you mean--a fine gentleman! With his coat all worn and shiny, -and he always scraping it with a clothes-brush. He is so faddy; there -must not be a speck of dust on it!" - -But the master spoke soothingly to them: - -"Be patient, wild fowl, he will soon be dead!" This senseless hostility -of the middle class toward a man of good birth somehow drew me and -my stepfather closer together. The crimson agaric is an unwholesome -fungus, yet it is so beautiful. Suffocated among these people, my -stepfather was like a fish which had accidentally fallen into a -fowl-run--an absurd comparison, as everything in that life was absurd. - -I began to find in him resemblances to "Good Business"--a man whom I -could never forget. I adorned him and my Queen with the best that I -got out of books. I gave them all that was most pure in me, all the -fantasies born of my reading. My stepfather was just such another -man, aloof and unloved, as "Good Business." He behaved alike to every -one in the house, never spoke first, and answered questions put to him -with a peculiar politeness and brevity. I was delighted when he taught -my masters. Standing at the table, bent double, he would tap the thick -paper with his dry nails, and suggest calmly: - -"Here you will have to have a keystone. That will halve the force of -the pressure; otherwise the pillar will crash through the walls." - -"That's true, the devil take it," muttered the master, and his wife -said to him, when my stepfather had gone out: - -"It is simply amazing to me that you can allow any one to teach you -your business like that!" - -For some reason she was always especially irritated when my stepfather -cleaned his teeth and gargled after supper, protruding his harshly -outlined Adam's apple. - -"In my opinion," she would say in a sour voice, "it is injurious to you -to bend your head back like that, Evgen Vassilvich!" - -Smiling politely he asked: - -"Why?' - -"Because--I am sure it is." - -He began to clean his bluish nails with a tiny bone stick. - -"He is cleaning his nails again; well, I never!" exclaimed the -mistress. "He is dying--and there he is." - -"Ekh!" sighed the master. "What a lot of stupidity has flourished in -you, wild fowl!" - -"Why do you say that?" asked his wife, confused. But the old mistress -complained passionately to God at night: - -"Lord, they have laid that rotten creature on my shoulders, and Victor -is again pushed on one side." Victorushka began to mock the manners of -my stepfather,--his leisurely walk, the assured movements of his lordly -hands, his skill in tying a cravat, and his dainty way of eating. He -would ask coarsely: "Maximov, what's the French for 'knee'?" - -"I am called Evgen Vassilevich," my stepfather reminded him calmly. - -"All right. Well, what is 'the chest'?" - -Victorushka would say to his mother at supper: "Ma mère, donnez moi -encore du pickles!" - -"Oh, you Frenchman!" the old woman would say, much affected. - -My stepfather, as unmoved as if he were deaf or dumb, chewed his meat -without looking at any one. One day the elder brother said to the -younger: "Now that you are learning French, Victor, you ought to have a -mistress." - -This was the only time I remember seeing my stepfather smile quietly. - -But the young mistress let her spoon fall on the table in her -agitation, and cried to her husband: - -"Are n't you ashamed to talk so disgustingly before me?" - -Sometimes my stepfather came to me in the dark vestibule, where I -slept under the stairs which led to the attic, and where, sitting on -the stairs by the window, I used to read. - -"Reading?" he would say, blowing out smoke. There came a hissing sound -from his chest like the hissing of a fire-stick. "What is the book?" - -I showed it to him. - -"Ah," he said, glancing at the title, "I think I have read it. Will you -smoke?" - -We smoked, looking out of the window onto the dirty yard. He said: - -"It is a great pity that you cannot study; it seems to me that you have -ability." - -"I am studying; I read." - -"That is not enough; you need a school; a system." I felt inclined to -say to him: - -"You had the advantages of both school and system, my fine fellow, and -what is the result?" - -But he added, as if he had read my thoughts: "Given the proper -disposition, a school is a good educator. Only very well educated -people make any mark in life." - -But once he counseled me: - -"You would be far better away from here. I see no sense or advantage to -you in staying." - -"I like the work." - -"Ah--what do you find to like?" - -"I find it interesting to work with them." - -"Perhaps you are right." - -But one day he said: - -"What trash they are in the main, our employers--trash!" - -When I remembered how and when my mother had uttered that word, I -involuntarily drew back from him. He asked, smiling: - -"Don't you think so?" - -"I don't know." - -"Well, they are; I can see that." - -"But I like the master, anyhow." - -"Yes, you are right; he is a worthy man, but strange." - -I should have liked to talk with him about books, but it was plain that -he did not care for them, and one day he advised me: - -"Don't be led away; everything is very much embellished in books, -distorted one way or another. Most writers of books are people like our -master, small people." - -Such judgments seemed very daring to me, and quite corrupted me. - -On the same occasion he asked me: - -"Have you read any of Goncharov's works?" - -'The Frigate Palada.'" - -"That's a dull book. But really, Goncharov is the cleverest writer in -Russia. I advise you to read his novel, 'Oblomov.' That is by far the -truest and most daring book he wrote; in fact, it is the best book in -Russian literature." - -Of Dickens' works he said: - -"They are rubbish, I assure you. But there is a most interesting thing -running in the 'Nova Vremya,'-'The Temptation of St. Anthony.' You -read it? Apparently you like all that pertains to the church, and 'The -Temptation' ought to be a profitable subject for you." - -He brought me a bundle of papers containing the serial, and I read -Flaubert's learned work. It reminded me of the innumerable lives of -holy men, scraps of history told by the valuers, but it made no very -deep impression on me. I much preferred the "Memoirs of Upilio Faimali, -Tamer of Wild Beasts," which was printed alongside of it. - -When I acknowledged this fact to my stepfather, he remarked coolly: - -"That means that you are still too young to read such things? However, -don't forget about that book." - -Sometimes he would sit with me for a long time without saying a word, -just coughing and puffing out smoke continuously. His beautiful eyes -burned painfully, and I looked at him furtively, and forgot that this -man, who was dying so honestly and simply, without complaint, had once -been so closely related to my mother, and had insulted her. I knew that -he lived with some sort of seamstress, and thought of her with wonder -and pity. How could she not shrink from embracing those lanky bones, -from kissing that mouth which gave forth such an oppressive odor of -putrescence? Just like "Good Business," my stepfather often uttered -peculiarly characteristic sayings: - -"I love hounds; they are stupid, but I love them. They are very -beautiful. Beautiful women are often stupid, too." - -I thought, not without pride: - -"Ah, if he had only known Queen Margot!" - -"People who live for a long time in the same house all have the -same kind of face," was one of his sayings which I wrote down in my -note-book. - -I listened for these sayings of his, as if they had been treats. It was -pleasant to hear unusual, literary words used in a house where every -one spoke a colorless language, which had hardened into well-worn, -undiversified forms. My stepfather never spoke to me of my mother; -he never even uttered her name. This pleased me, and aroused in me a -feeling of sympathetic consideration for him. - -Once I asked him about God--I do not remember what brought up the -subject. He looked at me, and said very calmly: - -"I don't know. I don't believe in God." - -I remembered Sitanov, and told my stepfather about him. Having listened -attentively to me, he observed, still calmly: - -"He was in doubt; and those who are in doubt must believe in something. -As for me, I simply do not believe----" - -"But is that possible?" - -"Why not? You can see for yourself I don't believe." - -I saw nothing, except that he was dying. I hardly pitied him; my first -feeling was one of keen and genuine interest in the nearness of a dying -person, in the mystery of death. - -Here was a man sitting close to me, his knee touching mine, warm, -sensate, calmly regarding people in the light of their relations to -himself; speaking about everything like a person who possessed power to -judge and to settle affairs; in whom lay something necessary to me, or -something good, blended with something unnecessary to me. This being of -incomprehensible complexity was the receptacle of continuous whirlwinds -of thought. It was not as if I were merely brought in contact with him, -but it seemed as if he were part of myself, that he lived somewhere -within me. I thought about him continually, and the shadow of his soul -lay across mine. And to-morrow he would disappear entirely, with all -that was hidden in his head and his heart, with all that I seemed to -read in his beautiful eyes. When he went, another of the living threads -which bound me to life would be snapped. His memory would be left, but -that would be something finite within me, forever limited, immutable. -But that which is alive changes, progresses. But these were thoughts, -and behind them lay those inexpressible words which give birth to and -nourish them, which strike to the very roots of life, demanding an -answer to the question, Why? - -"I shall soon have to lie by, it seems to me," said my stepfather -one rainy day. "This stupid weakness! I don't feel inclined to do -anything." - -The next day, at the time of evening tea, he brushed the crumbs of -bread from the table and from his knees with peculiar care, and brushed -something invisible from his person. The old mistress, looking at him -from under her brows, whispered to her daughter-in-law: - -"Look at the way he is plucking at himself, and brushing himself." - -He did not come to work for two days, and then the old mistress put a -large white envelope in my hand, saying: - -"Here you are! A woman brought this yesterday about noon, and I forgot -to give it to you. A pretty little woman she was, but what she wants -with you I can't imagine, and that's the truth!" - -On a slip of paper with a hospital stamp, inside the envelope, was -written in large characters: - -"When you have an hour to spare, come and see me. I am in the -Martinovski Hospital. "E. M." - -The next morning I was sitting in a hospital ward on my stepfather's -bed. It was a long bed, and his feet, in gray, worn socks, stuck out -through the rails. His beautiful eyes, dully wandering over the yellow -walls, rested on my face and on the small hands of a young girl who sat -on a bench at the head of the bed. Her hands rested on the pillow, and -my stepfather rubbed his cheek against them, his mouth hanging open. -She was a plump girl, wearing a shiny, dark frock. The tears flowed -slowly over her oval face; her wet blue eyes never moved from my -stepfather's face, with its sharp bones, large, sharp-pointed nose, and -dark mouth. - -"The priest ought to be here," she whispered, "but he forbids it--he -does not understand." And taking her hands from the pillow, she pressed -them to her breast as if praying. - -In a minute my stepfather came to himself, looked at the ceiling and -frowned, as if he were trying to remember something. Then he stretched -his lank hand toward me. - -"You? Thank you. Here I am, you see. I feel to stupid." - -The effort tired him; he closed his eyes. I stroked his long cold -fingers with the blue nails. The girl asked softly: - -"Evgen Vassilvich, introduce us, please!" - -"You must know each other," he said, indicating her with his eyes. "A -dear creature--" - -He stopped speaking, his mouth opened wider and wider, and he suddenly -shrieked out hoarsely, like a raven. Throwing herself on the bed, -clutching at the blanket, waving her bare arms about, the girl also -screamed, burying her head in the tossed pillow. - -My stepfather died quickly, and as soon as he was dead, he regained -some of his good looks. I left the hospital with the girl on my arm. -She staggered like a sick person, and cried. Her handkerchief was -squeezed into a ball in her hand; she alternately applied it to her -eyes, and rolling it tighter, gazed at it as if it were her last and -most precious possession. - -Suddenly she stood still, pressing close to me, and said: - -"I shall not live till the winter. Oh Lord, Lord! What does it mean?" - -Then holding out her hand, wet with tears, to me: "Good-by. He thought -a lot of you. He will be buried to-morrow." - -"Shall I see you home?" - -She looked about her. - -"What for? It is daytime, not night." - -From the corner of a side street I looked after her. She walked slowly, -like a person who has nothing to hurry for. It was August. The leaves -were already beginning to fall from the trees. I had no time to follow -my stepfather to the graveyard, and I never saw the girl again. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -Every morning at six o'clock I set out to my work in the market-place. -I met interesting people there. There was the carpenter, Osip, a -grayhaired man who looked like Saint Nikolai, a clever workman, -and witty; there was the humpbacked slater, Ephimushka, the pious -bricklayer, Petr, a thoughtful man who also reminded me of a saint; the -plasterer, Gregory Shishlin, a flaxen-bearded, blue-eyed, handsome man, -beaming with quiet good-nature. - -I had come to know these people during the second part of my life -at the draughtsman's house. Every Sunday they used to appear in the -kitchen, grave, important-looking, with pleasant speech, and with words -which had a new flavor for me. All these solid-looking peasants had -seemed to me then to be easy to read, good through and through, all -pleasantly different from the spiteful, thieving, drunken inhabitants -of the Kunavin and its environs. - -The plasterer, Shishlin, pleased me most of all, and I actually asked -if I might join his gang of workmen. But scratching his golden brow -with a white finger, he gently refused to have me. - -"It is too soon for you," he said. "Our work is not easy; wait another -year." - -Then throwing up his handsome head, he asked: - -"You don't like the way you are living? Never mind, have patience; -learn to live a life of your own, and then you will be able to bear it!" - -I do not know all that I gained from this good advice, but I remember -it gratefully. - -These people used to come to my master's house every Sunday morning, -sit on benches round th? kitchen-table, and talk of interesting things -while they waited for my master. When he came, he greeted them loudly -and gayly, shaking-their strong hands, and then sat down in the chief -corner. They produced their accounts and bundles of notes, the workmen -placed their tattered account-books on the table, and the reckoning up -for the week began. - -Joking and bantering, the master would try to prove them wrong in their -reckoning, and they did the same to him. Sometimes there was a fierce -dispute, but more often friendly laughter. - -"Eh, you're a dear man; you were born a rogue!" the workmen would say -to the master. - -And he answered, laughing in some confusion: - -"And what about you, wild fowl? There's as much roguery about you as -about me!" - -"How should we be anything else, friend?" agreed Ephimushka, but grave -Petr said: - -"You live by what you steal; what you earn you give to God and the -emperor." - -"Well, then I 'll willingly make a burnt offering of you," laughed the -master. - -They led him on good-naturedly: - -"Set fire to us, you mean?" - -"Burn us in a fiery furnace?" - -Gregory Shishl in, pressing his luxuriant beard to his breast with his -hands, said in a sing-song voice: "Brothers, let us do our business -without cheating. If we will only live honestly, how happy and peaceful -we shall be, eh? Shall we not, dear people?" - -His blue eyes darkened, grew moist; at that moment he looked -wonderfully handsome. His question seemed to have upset them all; they -all turned away from him in confusion. - -"A peasant does not cheat much," grumbled good-looking Osip with a -sigh, as if he pitied the peasant. - -The dark bricklayer, bending his round-shouldered back over the table, -said thickly: - -"Sin is like a sort of bog; the farther you go, the more swampy it -gets!" - -And the master said to them, as if he were making a speech: - -"What about me? I go into it because something calls me. Though I don't -want to." - -After this philosophising they again tried to get the better of one -another, but when they had finished their accounts, perspiring and -tired from the effort, they went out to the tavern to drink tea, -inviting the master to go with them. - -On the market-place it was my duty to watch these people, to see that -they did not steal nails, or bricks, or boards. Every one of them, in -addition to my master's work, held contracts of his own, and would try -to steal something for his own work under my very nose. They welcomed -me kindly, and Shishlin said: - -"Do you remember how you wanted to come into my gang? And look at you -now; put over me as chief!" - -"Well, well," said Osip banteringly, "keep watch over the river-banks, -and may God help you!" - -Petr observed in an unfriendly tone: - -"They have put a young crane to watch old mice." - -My duties were a cruel trial to me. I felt ashamed in the presence of -these people. They all seemed to possess some special knowledge which -was hidden from the rest of the world, and I had to watch them as if -they had been thieves and tricksters. The first part of the time it was -very hard for me, but Osip soon noticed this, and one day he said to me -privately: - -"Look here, young fellow, you won't do any good by sulking--understand?" - -Of course I did not understand, but I felt that he realized the -absurdity of my position, and I soon arrived at a frank understanding -with him. - -He took me aside in a corner and explained: - -"If you want to know, the biggest thief among us is the bricklayer, -Petrukha. He is a man with a large family, and he is greedy. You want -to watch him well. Nothing is too small for him; everything comes in -handy. A pound of nails, a dozen of bricks, a bag of mortar--he 'll -take all. He is a good man, God-fearing, of severe ideas, and well -educated, but he loves to steal! Ephimushka lives like a woman. He is -peaceable, and is harmless as far as you are concerned. He is clever, -too--humpbacks are never fools! And there's Gregory Shishlin. He has a -fad--he will neither take from others nor give of his own. He works for -nothing; any one can take him in, but he can deceive no one. He is not -governed by his reason." - -"He is good, then?" - -Osip looked at me as if I were a long way from him, and uttered these -memorable words: - -"True enough, he is good. To be good is the easiest way for lazy -people. To be good, my boy, does not need brains." - -"And what about you?" I asked Osip. - -He laughed and answered: - -"I? I am like a young girl. When I am a grandmother I will tell you all -about myself; till then you will have to wait. In the meanwhile you can -set your brains to work to find out where the real 'I' is hidden. Find -out; that is what you have to do!" - -He had upset all my ideas of himself and his friends. - -It was difficult for me to doubt the truth of his statement. I saw that -Ephimushka, Petr, and Gregory regarded the handsome old man as more -clever and more learned in worldly wisdom than themselves. They took -counsel with him about everything, listened attentively to his advice, -and showed him every sign of respect. - -"Will you be so good as to give us your advice," they would ask him. -But after one of these questions, when Osip had gone away, the -bricklayer said softly to Grigori: - -"Heretic!" - -And Grigori burst out laughing and added: - -"Clown!" - -The plasterer warned me in a friendly way: - -"You look out for yourself with the old man, Maximich. You must be -careful, or he will twist you round his finger in an hour; he is a -bitter old man. God save you from the harm he can do." - -"What harm?" - -"That I can't say!" answered the handsome workman, blinking. - -I did not understand him in the least. I thought that the most honest -and pious man of them all was the bricklayer, Petr; He spoke of -everything briefly, suggestively; his thoughts rested mostly upon God, -hell, and death. - -"Ekh! my children, my brothers, how can you not be afraid? How can you -not look forward, when the grave and the churchyard let no one pass -them?" - -He always had the stomachache, and there were some days when he could -not eat anything at all. Even a morsel of bread brought on the pain to -such an extent as to cause convulsions and a dreadful sickness. - -Humpbacked Ephimushka also seemed a very good and honest, but always -queer fellow. Sometimes he was happy and foolish, like a harmless -lunatic. He was everlastingly falling in love with different women, -about whom he always used the same words: - -"I tell you straight, she is not a woman, but a flower in cream--ei, -bo--o!" - -When the lively women of Kunavin Street came to wash the floors in the -shops, Ephimushka let himself down from the roof, and standing in a -corner somewhere, mumbled, blinking his gray, bright eyes, stretching -his mouth from ear to ear: - -"Such a butterfly as the Lord has sent to me; such a joy has descended -upon me! Well, what is she but a flower in cream, and grateful I ought -to be for the chance which has brought me such a gift! Such beauty -makes me full of life, afire!" - -At first the women used to laugh at him, calling out to each other: - -"Listen to the humpback running on! Oh Lord!" The slater caused no -little laughter. His high cheek-boned face wore a sleepy expression, -and he used to talk as if he were raving, his honeyed phrases flowing -in an intoxicating stream which obviously went to the women's heads. At -length one of the elder ones said to her friend in a tone of amazement: - -"Just listen to how that man is going on! A clean young fellow he is!" - -"He sings like a bird." - -"Or like a beggar in the church porch," said an obstinate girl, -refusing to give way. - -But Ephimushka was not like a beggar at all. He stood firmly, like -a squat tree-trunk; his voice rang out like a challenge; his words -became more and more alluring; the women listened to him in silence. -In fact, it seemed as if his whole being was flowing away in a tender, -narcotic speech. - -It ended in his saying to his mates in a tone of astonishment at -supper-time, or after the Sabbath rest, shaking his heavy, angular head: - -"Well, what a sweet little woman, a dear little thing! I have never -before come across anything like her!" - -When he spoke of his conquests Ephimushka was not boastful, nor -jeered at the victim of his charms, as the others always did. He was -only joyfully and gratefully touched, his gray eyes wide open with -astonishment. - -Osip, shaking his head, exclaimed: - -"Oh, you incorrigible fellow! How old are you?" "Forty-four years, but -that's nothing! I have grown five years younger to-day, as if I had -bathed in the healing water of a river. I feel thoroughly fit, and my -heart is at peace! Some women can produce that effect, eh?" - -The bricklayer said coarsely: - -"You are going on for fifty. You had better be careful, or you will -find that your loose way of life will leave a bitter taste." - -"You are shameless, Ephimushka!" sighed Grigori Shishlin. - -And it seemed to me that the handsome fellow envied the success of the -humpback. - -Osip looked round on us all from under his level silver brows, and said -jestingly: - -"Every Mashka has her fancies. One will love cups and spoons, another -buckles and ear-rings, but all Mashkas will be grandmothers in time." - -Shishlin was married, but his wife was living in the country, so he -also cast his eyes on the floor-scrubbers. They were all of them easy -of approach. All of them "earned a bit" to add to their income, and -they regarded this method of earning money in that poverty-stricken -area as simply as they would have regarded any other kind of work. -But the handsome workman never approached the women. He just gazed at -them from afar with a peculiar expression, as if he were pitying some -one--himself or them. But when they began to sport with him and tempt -him, he laughed bashfully and went away. - -"Well, you--" - -"What's the matter with you, you fool?" asked Ephimushka, amazed. "Do -you mean to say you are going to lose the chance?" - -"I am a married man," Grigori reminded him. - -"Well, do you think your wife will know anything about it?" - -"My wife would always know if I lived unchastely. I can't deceive her, -my brother." - -"How can she know?" - -"That I can't say, but she is bound to know, while she lives chaste -herself; and if I lead a chaste life, and she were to sin, I should -know it." - -"But how?" cried Ephimushka, but Grigori repeated calmly: - -"That I can't say." - -The slater waved his hands agitatedly. - -"There, if you please! Chaste, and does n't know! Oh, you blockhead!" - -Shishlin's workmen, numbering seven, treated him as one of themselves -and not as their master, and behind his back they nicknamed him "The -Calf." - -When he came to work and saw that they were lazy, he would take a -trowel, or a spade, and artistically do the work himself, calling out -coaxingly: - -"Set to work, children, set to work!" - -One day, carrying out the task which my master had angrily set me, I -said to Grigori: - -"What bad workmen you have." - -He seemed surprised. - -"Why?"-- - -"This work ought to have been finished yesterday, and they won't finish -it even to-day." - -"That is true;'they won't have time," he agreed, and after a silence he -added cautiously: - -"Of course, I see that by rights I ought to dismiss them, but you see -they are all my own people from my own village. And then again the -punishment of God is that every man should eat bread by the sweat of -his brow, and the punishment is for all of us--for you and me, too. But -you and I labor less than they do, and--well, it would be awkward to -dismiss them." - -He lived in a dream. He would walk along the deserted streets of the -market-place, and suddenly halting on one of the bridges over the -Obvodni Canal, would stand for a long time at the railings, looking -into the water, at the sky, or into the distance beyond the Oka. If one -overtook him and asked: - -"What are you doing?" - -"What?" he would reply, waking up and smiling confusedly. "I was just -standing, looking about me a bit." - -"God has arranged everything very well, brother," he would often say. -"The sky, the earth, the flowing rivers, the steamboats running. You -can get on a boat and go where you like--to Riazan, or to Ribinsk, to -Perm, to Astrakhan. I went to Riazan once. It was n't bad--a little -town--but very dull, duller than Nijni. Our Nijni is wonderful, gay! -And Astrakhan is still duller. There are a lot of Kalmucks there, and -I don't like them. I don't like any of those Mordovans, or Kalmucks, -Persians, or Germans, or any of the other nations." - -He spoke slowly; his words cautiously felt for sympathy in others, and -always found it in the bricklayer, Petr. - -"Those are not nations, but nomads," said Petr with angry conviction. -"They came into the world before Christ and they 'll go out of it -before He comes again." - -Grigori became animated; he beamed. - -"That's it, isn't it? But I love a pure race like the Russians, my -brother, with a straight look. I don't like Jews, either, and I cannot -understand how they are the people of God. It is wisely arranged, no -doubt." - -The slater added darkly: - -"Wisely--but there is a lot that is superfluous!" - -Osip listened to what they said, and then put in, mockingly and -caustically: - -"There is much that is superfluous, and your conversation belongs to -that category. Ekh! you babblers; you want a thrashing, all of you!" - -Osip kept himself to himself, and it was impossible to guess with whom -he would agree, or with whom he would quarrel. Sometimes he seemed -inclined to agree calmly with all men, and with all their ideas; but -more often one saw that he was bored by all of them, regarding them as -half-witted, and he said to Petr, Grigori, and Ephimushka: - -"Ekh, you sow's whelps!" - -They laughed, not very cheerfully or willingly, but still they laughed. - -My master gave me five copecks a day for food. This was not enough, and -I was rather hungry. Seeing this, the workmen invited me to breakfast -and supper with them, and sometimes the contractors would invite me to -a tavern to drink tea with them. I willingly accepted the invitations. -I loved to sit among them and listen to their slow speeches, their -strange stories. I gave them great pleasure by my readings out of -church books. - -"You've stuck to books till you are fed up with them. Your crop is -stuffed with them," said Osip, regarding me attentively with his -cornflower-blue eyes. It was difficult to catch their expression; his -pupils always seemed to be floating, melting. - -"Take it a drop at a time--it is better; and when you are grown up, you -can be a monk and console the people by your teaching, and in that way -you may become a millionaire." - -"A missioner," corrected the bricklayer in a voice which for some -reason sounded aggrieved. - -"What?" asked Osip. - -"A missioner is what you mean! You are not deaf, are you?" - -"All right, then, a missioner, and dispute with heretics. And even -those whom you reckon as heretics have the right to bread. One can live -even with a heretic, if one exercises discretion." - -Grigori laughed in an embarrassed manner, and Petr said in his beard: - -"And wizards don't have a bad time of it, and other kinds of godless -people." - -But Osip returned quickly: - -"A wizard is not a man of education; education is not usually a -possession of the wizard." - -And he told me: - -"Now look at this; just listen. In our district there lived a peasant, -Tushek was his name, an emaciated little man, and idle. He lived like -a feather, blown about here and there by the wind, neither a worker -nor a do-nothing. Well, one day he took to praying, because he had -nothing else to do, and after wandering about for two years, he -suddenly showed himself in a new character. His hair hung down over -his shoulders; he wore a skull-cap, and a brown cassock of leather; he -looked on all of us with a baneful eye, and said straight out: 'Repent, -ye cursed!' And why not repent, especially if you happened to be a -woman? And the business ran its course: Tushek overfed, Tushek drunk, -Tushek having his way with the women to his heart's content--" - -The bricklayer interrupted him angrily: - -"What has that got to do with the matter, his overfeeding, or -overdrinking?" - -"What else has to do with it, then?" - -"His words are all that matter." - -"Oh, I took no notice of his words; I am abundantly gifted with words -myself." - -"We know all we want to know about Tushinkov, Dmitri Vassilich," said -Petr indignantly, and Grigori said nothing, but let his head droop, and -gazed into his glass. - -"I don't dispute it," replied Osip peaceably. "I was just telling our -Maximich of the different pathways to the morsel--" - -"Some of the roads lead to prison!" - -"Occasionally," agreed Osip. "But you will meet with priests on all -kinds of paths; one must learn where to turn off." - -He was always somewhat inclined to make fun of these pious people, the -plasterer and the bricklayer; perhaps he did not like them, but he -skilfully concealed the fact. His attitude towards people was always -elusive. - -He looked upon Ephimushka more indulgently, with more favor than upon -the other. The slater did not enter into discussions about God, the -truth, sects, the woes of humanity, as his friends did. Setting his -chair sidewise to the table, so that its back should not be in the way -of his hump, he would calmly drink glass after glass of tea. Then, -suddenly alert, he would glance round the smoky room, listening to the -incoherent babel of voices, and darting up, swiftly disappear. That -meant that some one had come into the tavern to whom Ephimushka owed -money,--he had a good dozen creditors,--so, as some of them used to -beat him when they saw him, he just fled from sin. - -"They get angry, the oddities!" he would say in a tone of surprise. -"Can't they understand that if I had the money I would give it to them?" - -"Oh, bitter poverty!" Osip sped after him. - -Sometimes Ephimushka sat deep in thought, hearing and seeing nothing; -his high cheek-boned face softened, his pleasant eyes looking -pleasanter than usual. - -"What are you thinking about?" they would ask him. - -"I was thinking that if I were rich I would marry a real lady, a -noblewoman--by God, I would! A colonel's daughter, for example, and, -Lord! how I would love her! I should be on fire with love of her, -because, my brothers, I once roofed the country house of a certain -colonel--" - -"And he had a widowed daughter; we 've heard all that before!" -interrupted Petr in an unfriendly tone. - -But Ephimushka, spreading his hands out on his knees, rocked to and -fro, his hump looking as if it were chiselling the air, and continued: - -"Sometimes she went into the garden, all in white; glorious she looked. -I looked at her from the roof, and I did n't know what the sun had done -to me. But what caused that white light? It was as if a white dove had -flown from under her feet! She was just a cornflower in cream! With -such a lady as that, one would like all one's life to be night." - -"And how would you get anything to eat?" asked Petr gruffly. But this -did not disturb Ephimushka. - -"Lord!" he exclaimed. "Should we want much? Besides, she is rich." - -Osip laughed. - -"And when are you going in for all this dissipation, Ephimushka, you -rogue?" - -Ephimushka never talked on any other subject but women, and he was an -unreliable workman. At one time he worked excellently and profitably, -at another time he did not get on at all; his wooden hammer tapped the -ridges lazily, leaving crevices. He always smelt of train-oil, but he -had a smell of his own as well, a healthy, pleasant smell like that of -a newly cut tree. - -One could discuss everything that was interesting with the carpenter. -His words always stirred one's feelings, but it was hard to tell when -he was serious and when joking. - -With Grigori it was better to talk about God; this was a subject which -he loved, and on which he was an authority. - -"Grisha," I asked, "do you know there are people who do not believe in -God?" - -He laughed quietly. - -"What do you mean?" - -"They say there is no God." - -"Oh, that's what you mean! I know that." - -And as if he were brushing away invisible flies, he went on: - -"King David said in his time, you remember, 'The fool hath said in his -heart "There is no God."' That's what he said about that kind of fool. -We can't do without God!" - -Osip said, as if agreeing with him: - -"Take away God from Petrukha here, and he will show you!" - -Shishlin's handsome face became stern. He touched his beard with -fingers the nails of which were covered with dried lime, and said -mysteriously: - -"God dwells in every incarnate being; the conscience and all the inner -life is God-given." - -"And sin?" - -"Sin comes from the flesh, from Satan! Sin is an external thing, like -smallpox, and nothing more! He who thinks too much of sin, sins all -the more. If you do not remember sin, you will not sin. Thoughts about -sin are from Satan, the lord of the flesh, who suggests." - -The bricklayer queried this. - -"You are wrong there." - -"I am not! God is sinless, and man is in His image and likeness. It is -the image of God, the flesh, which sins, but His likeness cannot sin; -it is a spirit." - -He smiled triumphantly, but Petr growled: - -"That is wrong." - -"According to you, I suppose," Osip asked the bricklayer, "if you don't -sin, you can't repent, and if you don't repent, you won't be saved?" - -"That's a more hopeful way. Forget the devil and you cease to love God, -the fathers said." - -Shishlin was not intemperate, but two glasses would make him tipsy. His -face would be flushed, his eyes childish, and his voice would be raised -in song. - -"How good everything is, brothers! Here we live, work a little, and -have as much as we want to eat, God be praised! Ah, how good it is!" - -He wept. The tears trickled down his beard and gleamed on the silken -hairs like false pearls. - -His laudation of our life and those tears were unpleasant to me. My -grandmother had sung the praises of life more convincingly, more -sympathetically, and not so crudely. - -All these discussions kept me in a continual tension, and aroused a -dull emotion in me. I had already read many books about peasants, and -I saw how utterly unlike the peasants in the books were to those in -real life. In books they were all unhappy. Good or evil characters, -they were all poorer in words and ideas than peasants in real life. -In books they spoke less of God, of sects, of churches, and more of -government, land, and law. They spoke less about women, too, but quite -as coarsely, though more kindly. For the peasants in real life, women -were a pastime, but a dangerous one. One had to be artful with women; -otherwise they would gain the upper hand and spoil one's whole life. -The _muzhik_ in books may be good or bad, but he is altogether one or -the other. The real _muzhik_ is neither wholly good nor wholly bad, -but he is wonderfully interesting. If the peasant in real life does -not blurt out all his thoughts to you, you have a feeling that he is -keeping something back which he means to keep for himself alone, and -that very unsaid, hidden thing is the most important thing about him. - -Of all the peasants I had read of in books, the one I liked the best -was Petr in "The Carpenter's Gang." I wanted to read the story to my -comrades, and I brought the book to the Yarmaka. I often spent the -night in one or another of the workshops; sometimes it was because I -was so tired that I lacked the strength to get home. - -When I told them that I had a book about carpenters, my statement -aroused a lively interest, especially in Osip. He took the book out of -my hands, and turned over the leaves distrustfully, shaking his head. - -"And it is really written about us! Oh, you rascal! Who wrote it? Some -gentleman? I thought as much! Gentlemen, and _chinovniks_ especially, -are experts at anything. Where God does not even guess, a _chinovnik_ -has it all settled in his mind. That's what they live for." - -"You speak very irreverently of God, Osip," observed Petr. - -"That's all right! My words are less to God than a snowflake or a drop -of rain are to me. Don't you worry; you and I don't touch God." - -He suddenly began to play restlessly, throwing off sharp little sayings -like sparks from a flint, cutting off with them, as with scissors, -whatever was displeasing to him. Several times in the course of the day -he asked me: - -"Are we going to read, Maximich? That's right! A good idea!" - -When the hour for rest arrived we had supper with him in his workshop, -and after supper appeared Petr with his assistant Ardalon, and Shishlin -with the lad Phoma. In the shed where the gang slept there was a lamp -burning, and I began to read. They listened without speaking, but they -moved about, and very soon Ardalon said crossly: - -"I've had enough of this!" - -And he went out. The first to fall asleep was Grigori, with his mouth -open surprisingly; then the carpenters fell asleep; but Petr, Osip, -and Phoma drew nearer to me and listened attentively. When I finished -reading Osip put out the lamp at once. By the stars it was nearly -midnight. - -Petr asked in the darkness: - -"What was that written for? Against whom?" - -"Now for sleep!" said Osip, taking off his boots. - -Petr persisted in his question: - -"I asked, against whom was that written?" - -"I suppose they know!" replied Osip, arranging himself for sleep on a -scaffolding. - -"If it is written against stepmothers, it is a waste of time. It won't -make stepmothers any better," said the bricklayer firmly. "And if it is -meant for Petr, it is also futile; his sin in his answer. For murder -you go to Siberia, and that's all there is about it! Books are no good -for such sins; no use, eh?" - -Osip did not reply, and the bricklayer added; - -"They can do nothing themselves and so they discuss other people's -work. Like women at a meeting. Good-by, it is bedtime." - -He stood for a minute in the dark blue square of the open door, and -asked: - -"Are you asleep, Osip? What do you think about it?" - -"Eh?" responded the carpenter sleepily. - -"All right; go to sleep." - -Shishlin had fallen on his side where he had been sitting. Phoma lay on -some trampled straw beside me. The whole neighborhood was asleep. In -the distance rose the shriek of the railway engines, the heavy rumbling -of iron wheels, the clang of buffers. In the shed rose the sound -of snoring in different keys. I felt uncomfortable. I had expected -some sort of discussion, and there had been nothing of the kind. But -suddenly Osip spoke softly and evenly: - -"My child, don't you believe anything of that. You are young; you have -a long while to live; treasure up your thoughts. Your own sense is -worth twice some one else's. Are you asleep, Phoma?" - -"No," replied Phoma with alacrity. - -"That's right! You have both received some education, so you go on -reading. But don't believe all you read. They can print anything, you -know. That is their business!" - -He lowered his feet from the scaffolding, and resting his hands on the -edge of the plank, bent over us, and continued: - -"How ought you to regard books? Denunciation of certain people, that's -what a book is! Look, they say, and see what sort of a man this is--a -carpenter, or any one else--and here is a gentleman, a different kind -of man! A book is not written without an object, and generally around -some one." - -Phoma said thickly: - -"Petr was right to kill that contractor!" - -"That was wrong. It can never be right to kill a man. I know that you -do not love Grigori, but put that thought away from you. We are none -of us rich people. To-day I am master, to-morrow a workman again." - -"I did not mean you, Uncle Osip." - -"It is all the same." - -"You are just--" - -"Wait; I am telling you why these books are written," Osip interrupted -Phoma's angry words. "It is a very cunning idea! Here we have a -gentleman without a _muzhik;_ here a _muzhik_ without a gentleman! Look -now! Both the gentleman and the _muzhik_ are badly off. The gentleman -grows weak, crazy, and the _muzhik_ becomes boastful, drunken, sickly, -and offensive. That's what happens! But in his lord's castle it was -better, they say. The lord hid himself behind the _muzhik_ and the -_muzhik_ behind the master, and so they went round and round, well-fed, -and peaceful. I don't deny that it was more peaceful living with the -nobles. It was no advantage to the lord if his _muzhik_ was poor, but -it was to his good if he was rich and intelligent. He was then a weapon -in his hand. I know all about it; you see I lived in a nobleman's -domain for nearly forty years. There's a lot of my experience written -on my hide." - -I remembered that the carter, Petr, who committed suicide, used to talk -in the same way about the nobility, and it was very unpleasant to my -mind that the ideas of Osip should run on the same lines as those of -that evil old man. - -Osip touched my leg with his hand, and went on: - -"One must understand books and all sorts of writings. No one does -anything without a reason, and books are not written for nothing, but -to muddle people's heads. Every one is created with intelligence, -without which no one can wield an ax, or sew a shoe." He spoke for a -long time, and lay down. Again he jumped up, throwing gently his well -turned, quaint phrases into the darkness and quietness. - -"They say that the nobles are quite a different race from the peasants, -but it is not true. We are just like the nobles, only we happen to have -been born low down in the scale. Of course a noble learns from books, -while I learn by my own noddle, and a gentleman has a delicate skin; -that is all the difference. No--o, lads, it is time there was a new -way of living; all these writings ought to be thrown aside! Let every -one ask himself 'What am I?' A man! 'And what is he?' Also a man! What -then? Does God need his superfluous wealth? No-o, we are equal in the -sight of God when it comes to gifts." - -At last, in the morning, when the dawn had put out the light of the -stars, Osip said to me: - -"You see how I could write? I have talked about things that I have -never thought about. But you mustn't place too much faith in what I -say. I was talking more because I was sleepless than with any serious -intention. You lie down and think of something to amuse you. Once there -was a raven which flew from the fields to the hills, from boundary to -boundary, and lived beyond her time; the Lord punished her. The raven -is dead and dried up. What is the meaning of that? There is no meaning -in it, none. Now go to sleep; it will soon be time to get up." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -As Yaakov, the stoker, had done in his time, so now Osip grew and grew -in my eyes, until he hid all other people from me. There was some -resemblance to the stoker in him, but at the same time he reminded -me of grandfather, the valuer, Petr Vassiliev, Smouri, and the cook. -When I think of all the people who are firmly fixed in my memory, he -has left behind a deeper impression than any of them, an impression -which has eaten into it, as oxide eats into a brass bell. What was -remarkable about him was that he had two sets of ideas. In the daytime, -at his work among people, his lively, simple ideas were businesslike -and easier to understand than those to which he gave vent when he was -off duty, in the evenings, when he went with me into the town to see -his cronies, the dealers, or at night when he could not sleep. He had -special night thoughts, many-sided like the flame of a lamp. They -burned brightly, but where were their real faces? On which side was -this or that idea, nearer and dearer to Osip? - -He seemed to me to be much cleverer than any one else I had met, and I -hovered about him, as I used to do with the stoker, trying to find out -about the man, to understand him. But he glided away from me; it was -impossible to grasp him. Where was the real man hidden? How far could -I believe in him? - -I remember how he said to me: - -"You must find out for yourself where I am hidden. Look for me!" - -My self-love was piqued, but more than that, it had become a matter of -life and death to me to understand the old man. - -With all his elusiveness he was substantial. He looked as if he could -go on living for a hundred years longer and still remain the same, so -unchangeably did he preserve his _ego_ amid the instability of the -people around him. The valuer had made upon me an equal impression of -steadfastness, but it was not so pleasing to me. Osip's steadfastness -was of a different kind; although I cannot explain how, it was more -pleasing. - -The instability of human creatures is too often brought to one's -notice; their acrobatic leaps from one position to another upset me. -I had long ago grown weary of being surprised by these inexplicable -somersaults, and they had by degrees extinguished my lively interest in -humanity, disturbed my love for it. - -One day at the beginning of July, a rackety hackney cab came dashing up -to the place where we were working. On the box-seat a drunken driver -sat, hiccuping gloomily. He was bearded, hatless, and had a bruised -lip. Grigori Shishlin rolled about in the carriage, drunk, while a -fat, red-cheeked girl held his arm. She wore a straw hat trimmed with -a red ribbon and glass cherries; she had a sunshade in her hand, and -goloshes on her bare feet. Waving her sunshade, swaying, she giggled -and screamed: - -"What the devil! The market-place is not open; there is no -market-place, and he brings me to the market-place. Little mother--" - -Grigori, dishevelled and limp, crept out of the cab, sat on the ground -and declared to us, the spectators of the scene, with tears: - -"I am down on my knees; I have sinned greatly! I thought of sin, and -I have sinned. Ephimushka says 'Grisha! Grisha! He speaks truly, but -you--forgive me; I can treat you all. He says truly, 'We live once -only, and no more.'" - -The girl burst out laughing, stamped her feet, and lost her goloshes, -and the driver called out gruffly: - -"Let us get on farther! The horse won't stand still!" - -The horse, an old, worn-out jade, was covered with foam, and stood as -still as if it were buried. The whole scene was irresistibly comical. - -Grigori's workmen rolled about with laughter as they looked at their -master, his grand lady, and the bemused coachman. - -The only one who did not laugh was Phoma, who stood at the door of one -of the shops beside me and muttered: - -"The devil take the swine. And he has a wife at home--a bee-eautiful -woman!" - -The driver kept on urging them to start. The girl got out of the cab, -lifted Grigori up, set him on his feet, and cried with a wave of her -sunshade: - -"Go on!" - -Laughing good-naturedly at their master, and envying him, the men -returned to their work at the call of Phoma. It was plain that it was -repugnant to him to see Grigori made ridiculous. - -"He calls himself master," he muttered. "I have not quite a month's -work left to do here. After that I shall go back to the country. I -can't stand this." - -I felt vexed for Grigori; that girl with the cherries looked so -annoyingly absurd beside him. - -I often wondered why Grigori Shishlin was the master and Phoma Tuchkov -the workman. A strong, fair fellow, with curly hair, an aquiline -nose, and gray, clever eyes in his round face, Phoma was not like a -peasant. If he had been well-dressed, he might have been the son of a -merchant of good family. He was gloomy, taciturn, businesslike. Being -well educated, he kept the accounts of the contractor, drew up the -estimates, and could set his comrades to work successfully, but he -worked unwillingly himself. - -"You won't make work last forever," he said calmly. He despised books. - -"They can print what they like, but I shall go on thinking as I like," -he said. "Books are all nonsense." - -But he listened attentively to every one, and if something interested -him, he would ask all the details about it, perseveringly, always -thinking of it in his own way, measuring it by his own measure. - -Once I told Phoma that he ought to be a contractor. He replied -indolently: - -"If it were a question of turning over thousands, yes. But to worry -myself for the sake of making a few copecks, it is not worth while. No, -I am just looking about; then I shall go into a monastery in Oranko. -I am good-looking, powerful in muscle; I may take the fancy of some -merchant's widow! Such things do happen. There was a Sergatzki boy who -made his fortune in two years, and married a girl from these parts, -from the town. He had to take an icon to her house, and she saw him." - -This was an obsession with him; he knew many tales of how taking -service in a monastery had led people to an easy life. I did not care -for these stories, nor did I like the trend of Phoma's mind, but I felt -sure that he would go to a monastery. - -When the market was opened, Phoma, to every one's surprise, went as -waiter to a tavern. I do not say that his mates were surprised, but -they all began to treat him mockingly. On holidays they would all go -together to drink tea, saying to one another: - -"Let us go and see our Phoma." - -And when they arrived at the tavern they would call out: - -"Hi, waiter! Curly mop, come here!" - -He would come to them and ask, with his head held high: - -"What can I get for you?" - -"Don't you recognize acquaintances now?" - -"I never recognize any one." - -He felt that his mates despised him and were making fun of him, and he -looked at them with dully expectant eyes. His face might have been made -of wood, but it seemed to say: - -"Well, make haste; laugh and be done with it." - -"Shall we give him a tip?" they would ask, and after purposely fumbling -in their purses for a long time, they would give him nothing at all. - -I asked Phoma how he could go out as a waiter when he had meant to -enter a monastery. - -"I never meant to go into a monastery!" he replied, "and I shall not -stay long as a waiter." - -Four years later I met him in Tzaritzin, still a waiter in a tavern; -and later still I read in a newspaper that Phoma Tuchkov had been -arrested for an attempted burglary. - -The history of the mason, Ardalon, moved me deeply. He was the eldest -and best workman in Petr's gang. This black-bearded, light-hearted man -of forty years also involuntarily evoked the query, "Why was he not the -master instead of Petr?" He seldom drank vodka and hardly ever drank -too much; he knew his work thoroughly, and worked as if he loved it; -the bricks seemed to fly from his hands like red doves. In comparison -with him, the sickly, lean Petr seemed an absolutely superfluous member -of the gang. He used to speak thus of his work: - -"I build stone houses for people, and a wooden coffin for myself." - -But Ardalon laid his bricks with cheerful energy as he cried: "Work, my -child, for the glory of God." - -And he told us all that next spring he would go to Tomsk, where his -brother-in-law had undertaken a large contract to build a church, and -had invited him to go as overseer. - -"I have made up my mind to go. Building churches is work that I love!" -he said. And he suggested to me: "Come with me! It is very easy, -brother, for an educated person to get on in Siberia. There, education -is a trump card!" - -I agreed to his proposition, and he cried triumphantly: - -"There! That is business and not a joke." - -Toward Petr and Grigori he behaved with good-natured derision, like a -grown-up person towards children, and he said to Osip: - -"Braggarts! Each shows the other his cleverness, as if they were -playing at cards. One says: 'My cards are all such and such a color,' -and the other says, 'And mine are trumps!'" - -Osip observed hesitatingly: - -"How could it be otherwise? Boasting is only human; all the girls walk -about with their chests stuck out." - -"All, yes, all. It is God, God all the time. But they hoard up money -themselves!" said Ardalon impatiently. - -"Well, Grisha does n't." - -"I am speaking for myself. I would go with this God into the forest, -the desert. I am weary of being here. In the spring I shall go to -Siberia." - -The workmen, envious of Ardalon, said: - -"If we had such a chance in the shape of a brother-in-law, we should -not be afraid of Siberia either." - -And suddenly Ardalon disappeared. He went away from the workshop on -Sunday, and for three days no one knew where he was. - -This made anxious conjectures. - -"Perhaps he has been murdered." - -"Or maybe he is drowned." - -But Ephimushka came, and declared in an embarrassed manner: - -"He has gone on the drink." - -"Why do you tell such lies?" cried Petr incredulously. - -"He has gone on the drink; he is drinking madly. He is just like a corn -kiln which burns from the very center. Perhaps his much-loved wife is -dead." - -"He is a widower! Where is he?" - -Petr angrily set out to save Ardalon, but the latter fought him. - -Then Osip, pressing his lips together firmly, thrust his hands in his -pockets and said: - -"Shall I go have a look at him, and see what it is all about? He is a -good fellow." - -I attached myself to him. - -"Here's a man," said Osip on the way, "who lives for years quite -decently, when suddenly he loses control of himself, and is all over -the place. Look, Maximich, and learn." - -We went to one of the cheap "houses of pleasure" of Kunavin Village, -and we were welcomed by a predatory old woman. Osip whispered to her, -and she ushered us into a small empty room, dark and dirty, like a -stable. On a small bed slept, in an abandoned attitude, a large, stout -woman. The old woman thrust her fist in her side and said: - -"Wake up, frog, wake up!" - -The woman jumped up in terror, rubbing her face with her hands, and -asked: - -"Good Lord! who is it? What is it?" - -"Detectives are here," said Osip harshly. With a groan the woman -disappeared, and he spat after her and explained to me: - -"They are more afraid of detectives than of the devil." - -Taking a small glass from the wall, the old woman raised a piece of the -wall-paper. - -"Look! Is he the one you want?" - -Osip looked through a chink in the partition. "That is he! Get the -woman away." - -I also looked through the chink into just such a narrow stable as the -one we were in. On the sill of the window, which was closely shuttered, -burned a tin lamp, near which stood a squinting, naked, Tatar woman, -sewing a chemise. Behind her, on two pillows on the bed, was raised the -bloated face of Ardalon, his black, tangled beard projecting. - -The Tatar woman shivered, put on her chemise, and came past the bed, -suddenly appearing in our room. - -Osip looked at her and again spat. - -"Ugh! Shameless hussy!" - -"And you are an old fool!" she replied, laughing, Osip laughed too, and -shook a threatening finger at her. - -We went into the Tatar's stable. The old man sat on the bed at -Ardalon's feet and tried for a long time unsuccessfully to awaken him. -He muttered: - -"All right, wait a bit. We will go--" - -At length he awoke, gazed wildly at Osip and at me, and closing his -bloodshot eyes, murmured: - -"Well, well!" - -"What is the matter with you?" asked Osip gently, without reproaches, -but rather sadly. - -"I was driven to it," explained Ardalon hoarsely, and coughing. - -"How?" - -"Ah, there were reasons." - -"You were not contented, perhaps?" - -"What is the good--" - -Ardalon took an open bottle of vodka from the table, and began to drink -from it. He then asked Osip: - -"Would you like some? There ought to be something to eat here as well." - -The old man poured some of the spirit into his mouth, swallowed it, -frowned, and began to chew a small piece of bread carefully, but -muddled Ardalon said drowsily: - -"So I have thrown in my lot with the Tatar woman. She is a pure Tatar, -as Ephimushka says, young, an orphan from Kasimov; she was getting -ready for the fair." - -From the other side of the wall some one said in broken Russian: - -"Tatars are the best, like young hens. Send him away; he is not your -father." - -"That's she," muttered Ardalon, gazing stupidly at the wall. - -"I have seen her," said Osip. - -Ardalon turned to me: - -"That is the sort of man I am, brother." - -I expected Osip to reproach Ardalon, to give him a lecture which would -make him repent bitterly. But nothing of the kind happened; they sat -side by side, shoulder to shoulder, and uttered calm, brief words. It -was melancholy to see them in that dark, dirty stable. The woman called -ludicrous words through the chink in the wall, but they did not listen -to them. Osip took a walnut off the table, cracked it against his boot, -and began to remove the shell neatly, as he asked: - -"All your money gone?" - -"There is some with Petrucha." - -"I say! Aren't you going away? If you were to go to Tomsk, now--" - -"What should I go to Tomsk for?" - -"Have you changed your mind, then?" - -"If I had been going to strangers, it would have been different." - -"What do you mean?" - -"But to go to my sister and my brother-in-law--" - -"What of it?" - -"It is not particularly pleasant to begin again with one's own people." - -"The beginning is the same anywhere." - -"All the same--" - -They talked in such an amicably serious vein that the Tatar woman left -off teasing them, and coming into the room, took her frock down from -the wall in silence, and disappeared. - -"She is young," said Osip. - -Ardalon glanced at him and without annoyance replied: - -"Ephimushka is wrong-headed. He knows nothing, except about women. But -the Tatar woman is joyous; she maddens us all." - -"Take care; you won't be able to escape from her," Osip warned him, and -having eaten the walnut, took his leave. - -On the way back I asked Osip: - -"Why did you go to him?" - -"Just to look at him. He is a man I have known a long time. I have -seen ma-a-ny such cases. A man leads a decent life, and suddenly he -behaves as if he had just escaped from prison." He repeated what he had -said before, "One should be on one's guard against vodka." - -But after a minute he added: - -"But life would be dull without it." - -"Without vodka?" - -"Well, yes! When you drink, it is just as if you were in another world." - -Ardalon never came back for good. At the end of a few days he returned -to work, but soon disappeared again, and in the spring I met him among -the dock laborers; he was melting the ice round the barges in the -harbor. We greeted each other in friendly fashion and went to a tavern -for tea, after which he boasted: - -"You remember what a workman I was, eh? I tell you straight, I was an -expert at my own business! I could have earned hundreds." - -"However, you did not." - -"No, I didn't earn them," he cried proudly. "I spit upon work!" - -He swaggered. The people in the tavern listened to his impassioned -words and were impressed. - -"You remember what that sly thief Petrucha used to say about work? For -others stone houses; for himself a wooden coffin! Well, that's true of -all work!" - -I said: - -"Petrucha is ill. He is afraid of death." - -But Ardalon cried: - -"I am ill, too; my heart is out of order." - -On holidays I often wandered out of the town to "Millioni Street," -where the dockers lived, and saw how quickly Ardalon had settled -down among those uncouth ruffians. Only a year ago, happy and -serious-minded, Ardalon had now become as noisy as any of them. He had -acquired their curious, shambling walk, looked at people defiantly, -as if he were inviting every one to fight with him, and was always -boasting: - -"You see how I am received; I am like a chieftain here!" - -Never grudging the money he had earned, he liberally treated the -dockers, and in fights he always took the part of the weakest. He often -cried: - -"That's not fair, children! You've got to fight fair!" - -And so they called him "Fairplay," which delighted him. - -I ardently studied these people, closely packed in that old and dirty -sack of a street. All of them were people who had cut themselves off -from ordinary life, but they seemed to have created a life of their -own, independent of any master, and gay. Careless, audacious, they -reminded me of grandfather's stories about the bargemen who so easily -transformed themselves into brigands or hermits. When there was no -work, they were not squeamish about committing small thefts from the -barges and steamers, but that did not trouble me, for I saw that life -was sewn with theft, like an old coat with gray threads. At the same -time I saw that these people never worked with enthusiasm, unsparing of -their energies, as happened in cases of urgency, such as fires, or the -breaking of the ice. And, as a rule, they lived more of a holiday life -than any other people. - -But Osip, having noticed my friendship with Ardalon, warned me in a -fatherly way: - -"Look here, my boy; why this close friendship with the folk of Millioni -Street? Take care you don't do yourself harm by it." - -I told him as well as I could how I liked these people who lived so -gaily, without working. - -"Birds of the air they are!" he interrupted me, laughing. "That's what -they are--idle, useless people; and work is a calamity to them!" - -"What is work, after all? As they say, the labors of the righteous -don't procure them stone houses to live in!" - -I said this glibly enough. I had heard the proverb so often, and felt -the truth of it. - -But Osip was very angry with me, and cried: - -"Who says so? Fools, idlers! And you are a youngster; you ought not to -listen to such things! Oh, you--! That is the nonsense which is uttered -by the envious, the unsuccessful. Wait till your feathers are grown; -then you can fly! And I shall tell your master about this friendship of -yours." - -And he did tell. The master spoke to me about the matter. - -"You leave the Millioni folk alone, Pyeshkov! They are thieves and -prostitutes, and from there the path leads to the prison and the -hospital. Let them alone!" - -I began to conceal my visits to Millioni Street, but I soon had to give -them up. One day I was sitting with Ardalon and his comrade, Robenok, -on the roof of a shed in the yard of one of the lodging-houses. -Robenok was relating to us amusingly how he had made his way on foot -from Rostov, on the Don, to Moscow. He had been a soldier-sapper, a -Geogrivsky horseman, and he was lame. In the war with Turkey he had -been wounded in the knee. Of low stature, he had a terrible strength in -his arms, a strength which was of no profit to him, for his lameness -prevented him from working. He had had an illness which had caused -the hair to fall from his head and face; his head was like that of a -new-born infant. - -With his brown eyes sparkling he said: - -"Well, at Serpoukhov I saw a priest sitting in a sledge. 'Father,' I -said, 'give something to a Turkish hero.'" - -Ardalon shook his head and said: - -"That's a lie!" - -"Why should I lie?" asked Robenok, not in the least offended, and my -friend growled in lazy reproof: - -"You are incorrigible! You have the chance of becoming a watchman--they -always put lame men to that job--and you stroll about aimlessly, and -tell lies." - -"Well, I only do it to make people laugh. I lie just for the sake of -amusement." - -"You ought to laugh at yourself." - -In the yard, which was dark and dirty although the weather was dry and -sunny, a woman appeared and cried, waving some sort of a rag about her -head: - -"Who will buy a petticoat? Hi, friends!" - -Women crept out from the hidden places of the house and gathered -closely round the seller. I recognized her at once; it was the -laundress, Natalia. I jumped down from the roof, but she, having given -the petticoat to the first bidder, had already quietly left the yard. - -"How do you do?" I greeted her joyfully as I caught her at the gate. - -"What next, I wonder?" she exclaimed, glancing at me askance, and then -she suddenly stood still, crying angrily: "God save us! What are you -doing here?" - -Her terrified exclamation touched and confused me. I realized that she -was afraid for me; terror and amazement were shown so plainly in her -intelligent face. I soon explained to her that I was not living in that -street, but only went there sometimes to see what there was to see. - -"See?" she cried angrily and derisively. "What sort of a place is this -that you should want to see it? It's the women you 're after." - -Her face was wrinkled, dark shadows lay under her eyes, and her lips -drooped feebly. - -Standing at the door of a tavern she said: - -"Come in; I am going to have some tea! You are well-dressed, not like -they dress here, yet I cannot believe what you say." - -But in the tavern she seemed to believe me, and as she poured out tea, -she began to tell me how she had only awakened from sleep an hour ago, -and had not had anything to eat or drink yet. - -"And when I went to bed last night I was as drunk as drunk. I can't -even remember where I had the drink, or with whom." - -I felt sorry for her, awkward in her presence, and I wanted to ask her -where her daughter was. After she had drunk some vodka and hot tea, she -began to talk in a familiar, lively way, coarsely, like all the women -of that street, but when I asked about her daughter she was sobered at -once, and cried: - -"What do you want to know for? No, my boy, you won't get hold of her; -don't think it!" - -She drank more, and then she said: - -"I have nothing to do with my daughter. What am I? A laundress! What -sort of a mother for her? She is well brought up, educated. That she -is, my brother! She left me to live with a rich friend, as a teacher, -like--" - -After a silence she said: - -"That's how it is! The laundress does n't please you, but the -street-walker does?" - -That she was a street-walker I had seen at once, of course. There was -no other kind of woman in that street. But when she told me so herself, -my eyes filled with tears of shame and pity for her. I felt as if she -had burned me by making that admission,--she, who not long ago had been -so brave, independent, and clever. - -"Ekh! you!" she said, looking at me and sighing. "Go away from this -place, I beg you! I urge you, don't come here, or you will be lost!" - -Then she began to speak softly and brokenly, as if she were talking to -herself, bending over the table and drawing figures on the tray with -her fingers. - -"But what are my entreaties and my advice to you? When my own daughter -would not listen to me I cried to her: 'You can't throw aside your -own mother. What are you thinking of?' And she--she said, 'I shall -strangle myself!' And she went away to Kazan; she wants to learn to be -a midwife. Good--good! But what about me? You see what I am now? What -have I to cling to? And so I went on the streets." - -She fell Into a silence, and thought for a long time, soundlessly -moving her lips. It was plain that she had forgotten me. The corners -of her lips drooped; her mouth was curved like a sickle, and it was -a torturing sight to see how her lips quivered, and how the wavering -furrows on her face spoke without words. Her face was like that -of an aggrieved child. Strands of hair had fallen from under her -headkerchief, and lay on her cheek, or coiled behind her small ear. -Her tears dropped into her cup of cold tea, and seeing this, she pushed -the cup away and shut her eyes tightly, squeezing out two more tears. -Then she wiped her face with her handkerchief. I could not bear to stay -with her any longer. I rose quietly. - -"Good-by!" - -"Eh? Go--go to the devil!" She waved me away without looking at me; she -had apparently forgotten who was with her. - -I returned to Ardalon in the yard. He had meant to come with me to -catch crabs, and I wanted to tell him about the woman. But neither he -nor Robenok were on the roof of the shed; and while I was looking for -him in the disorderly yard, there arose from the street the sound of -one of those rows which were frequent there. - -I went out through the gate and came into collision with Natalia, -sobbing, wiping her bruised face with her headkerchief. Setting -straight her disordered hair with her other hand, she went blindly -along the footpath, and following her came Ardalon and Robenok. The -latter was saying: - -"Give her one more; come on!" - -Ardalon overtook the woman, flourishing his fist. She turned her bosom -full toward him; her face was terrible; her eyes blazed with hatred. - -"Go on, hit me!" she cried. - -I hung on to Ardalon's arm; he looked at me in amazement. - -"What's the matter with you?" - -"Don't touch her!" I just managed to say. - -He burst out laughing. - -"She is your lover? Aie, that Natashka, she has devoured our little -monk." - -Robenok laughed, too, holding his sides, and for a long time they -roasted me with their hot obscenity. It was unbearable! But while they -were thus occupied, Natalia went away, and I, losing my temper at last, -struck Robenok in the chest with my head, knocking him over, and ran -away. - -For a long time after that I did not go near Millioni Street. But I saw -Ardalon once again; I met him on the ferry-boat. - -"Where have you been hiding yourself?" he asked joyfully. - -When I told him that it was repulsive to me to remember how he had -knocked Natalia about and obscenely insulted me, Ardalon laughed -good-naturedly. - -"Did you take that seriously? We only rubbed it into you for a joke! As -for her, why shouldn't she be knocked about, a street-walker? People -beat their wives, so they are certainly not going to have more mercy on -such as that! Still, it was only a joke, the whole thing. I understand, -you know, that the fist is no good for teaching!" - -"What have you got to teach her? How are you better than she is?" - -He put his hands on my shoulders and, shaking me, said banteringly: - -"In our disgraceful state no one of us is better than another." - -Then he laughed and added boastfully: - -"I understand everything from within and without, brother, everything! -I am not wood!" - -He was a little tipsy, at the jovial stage; he looked at me with the -tender pity of a good master for an unintelligent pupil. - -Sometimes I met Pavl Odintzov. He was livelier than ever, dressed like -a dandy, and talked to me condescendingly and always reproachfully. - -"You are throwing yourself away on that kind of work! They are nothing -but peasants." - -Then he would sadly retail all the latest news from the workshop. - -"Jikharev is still taken up with that cow. Sitanov is plainly fretting; -he has begun to drink to excess. The wolves have eaten Golovev; he was -coming home from Sviatka; he was drunk, and the wolves devoured him." -And bursting into a gay peal of laughter he comically added: - -"They ate him and they all became drunk themselves! They were very -merry and walked about the forests on their hind legs, like performing -dogs. Then they fell to fighting and in twenty-fours hours they were -all dead!" - -I listened to him and laughed, too, but I felt that the workshop and -all I had experienced in it was very far away from me now. - -This was rather a melancholy reflection. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -There was hardly any work in the market-square during the winter, and -instead I had innumerable trivial duties to perform in the house. They -swallowed up the whole day, but the evenings were left free. Once more -I read to the household novels which were unpalatable to me, from the -"Neva" and the "Moscow Gazette"; but at night I occupied myself by -reading good books and by attempts at writing poetry. - -One day when the women had gone out to vespers and my master was kept -at home through indisposition, he asked me: - -"Victor is making fun of you because he says you write poetry, -Pyeshkov. Is that true? Well then, read it to me!" - -It would have been awkward to refuse, and I read several of my poetical -compositions. These evidently did not please him, but he said: - -"Stick to it! Stick to it! You may become a Pushkin; have you read -Pushkin?" - - "'Do the goblins have funeral rites? - Are the witches given in marriage?'" - -In his time people still believed in goblins, but he did not believe -in them himself. Of course he was just joking. - -"Ye-es, brother," he drawled thoughtfully, "you ought to have been -taught, but now it is too late. The devil knows what will become of -you! I should hide that note-book of yours more carefully, for if the -women get hold of it, they will laugh at you. Women, brother, love to -touch one on a weak spot." - -For some time past my master had been quiet and thoughtful; he had -a trick of looking about him cautiously, and the sound of the bell -startled him. Sometimes he would give way to a painful irritability -about trifles, would scold us all, and rush out of the house, returning -drunk late at night. One felt that something had come into his life -which was known only to himself, which had lacerated his heart; and -that he was living not sensibly, or willingly, but simply by force of -habit. - -On Sundays from dinner-time till nine o'clock I was free to go out and -about, and the evenings I spent at a tavern in Yamski Street. The host, -a stout and always perspiring man, was passionately fond of singing, -and the chorister's of most of the churches knew this, and used to -frequent his house. He treated them with vodka, beer, or tea, for their -songs. The choristers were a drunken and uninteresting set of people; -they sang unwillingly, only for the sake of the hospitality, and -almost always it was church music. As certain of the pious drunkards -did not consider that the tavern was the place for them, the host -used to invite them to his private room, and I could only hear the -singing through the door. But frequently peasants from the villages, -and artisans came. The tavern-keeper himself used to go about the town -inquiring for singers, asking the peasants who came in on market-days, -and inviting them to his house. - -The singer was always given a chair close to the bar, his back to a -cask of vodka; his head was outlined against the bottom of the cask as -if it were in a round frame. - -The best singer of all--and they were always particularly good -singers--was the small, lean harness-maker, Kleshtchkov, who looked as -if he had been squeezed, and had tufts of red hair on his head. His -little nose gleamed like that of a corpse; his benign, dreamy eyes were -immovable. - -Sometimes he closed his eyes, leaned the back of his head against -the bottom of the cask, protruding his chest, and in his soft but -all-conquering tenor voice sang the quick moving: - - "Ekh! how the fog has fallen upon the clean fields already! - And has hidden the distant roads!" - -Here he would stop, and resting his back against the bar, bending -backwards, went on, with his face raised toward the ceiling: - - "Ekh! where--where am I going? - Where shall I find the broad ro-oad?" - -His voice was small like himself, but it was unwearied; he permeated -the dark, dull room of the tavern with silvery chords, melancholy -words. His groans and cries conquered every one; even the drunken ones -became amazedly surprised, gazing down in silence at the tables in -front of them. As for me, my heart was torn, and overflowed with those -mighty feelings which good music always arouses as it miraculously -touches the very depths of the soul. - -It was as quiet in the tavern as in a church, and the singer seemed -like a good priest, who did not preach, but with all his soul, and -honestly, prayed for the whole human family, thinking aloud, as it -were, of all the grievous calamities which beset human life. Bearded -men gazed upon him; childlike eyes blinked in fierce, wild faces; at -moments some one sighed, and this seemed to emphasize the triumphant -power of the music. At such times it always seemed to me that the lives -led by most people were unreal and meaningless, and that the reality of -life lay here. - -In the corner sat the fat-faced old-clothes dealer, Luissukha, a -repulsive female, a shameless, loose woman. She hid her head on her fat -shoulder and wept, furtively wiping the tears from her bold eyes. Not -far from her sat the gloomy chorister, Mitropolski, a hirsute young -fellow who looked like a degraded deacon, with great eyes set in his -drunken face. He gazed into the glass of vodka placed before him, took -it up, and raised it to his mouth, and then set it down again on the -table, carefully and noiselessly. For some reason he could not drink. - -And all the people in the tavern seemed to be glued to their places, as -if they were listening to something long forgotten, but once dear and -near to them. - -When Kleshtchkov, having finished his song, modestly sank down in the -chair, the tavern-keeper, giving him a glass of wine, would say with a -smile of satisfaction: - -"Well, that was very good, sure! Although you can hardly be said to -sing, so much as to recite! However, you are a master of it, whatever -they say! No one could say otherwise." - -Kleshtchkov, drinking his vodka without haste, coughed carefully and -said quietly: - -"Any one can sing if he has a voice, but to show what kind of soul the -song contains is only given to me." - -"Well, you need n't boast, anyhow." - -"He who has nothing to boast about, does not boast," said the singer as -quietly but more firmly than before. - -"You are conceited, Kleshtchkov!" exclaimed the host, annoyed. - -"One can't be more conceited than one's conscience allows." - -And from the corner the gloomy Mitropolski roared: - -"What do you know about the singing of this fallen angel, you worms, -you dirt!" - -He always opposed every one, argued with every one, brought accusations -against every one; and almost every Sunday he was cruelly punished for -this by one of the singers, or whoever else had a mind for the business. - -The tavern-keeper loved Kleshtchkov's singing, but he could not endure -the singer. He used to complain about him, and obviously sought -occasions to humiliate him and to make him ridiculous. This fact was -known to the frequenters of the tavern and to Kleshtchkov himself. - -"He is a good singer, but he is proud; he wants taking down," he said, -and several guests agreed with him. - -"That's true; he's a conceited fellow!" - -"What's he got to be conceited about? His voice? That comes from God; -he has nothing to do with it! And he hasn't a very powerful voice, has -he?" the tavern-keeper persisted. - -His audience agreed with him. - -"True, it is not so much his voice as his intelligence." - -One day after the singer had refreshed himself and gone away, the -tavern-keeper tried to persuade Luissukha. - -"Why don't you amuse yourself with Kleshtchkov for a bit, Marie -Evdokimova; you'd shake him up, wouldn't you? What would you want for -it?" - -"If I were younger," she said with a laugh. - -The tavern-keeper cried loudly and warmly: - -"What can the young ones do? But you--you will get hold of him! We -shall see him dancing round you! When he is bowed down by grief he will -be able to sing, won't he? Take him in hand, Evdokimova, and do me a -favor, will you?" - -But she would not do it. Large and fat, she lowered her eyes and played -with the fringe of the handkerchief which covered her bosom, as she -said in a monotonous, lazy drawl: - -"It's a young person that is needed here. If I were younger, well, I -would not think twice about it." - -Almost every night the tavern-keeper tried to make Kleshtchkov drunk, -but the latter, after two or three songs and a glassful after each, -would carefully wrap up his throat with a knitted scarf, draw his cap -well over his tufted head, and depart. - -The tavern-keeper often tried to find a rival for Kleshtchkov. The -harness-maker would sing a song and then the host, after praising him, -would say: - -"Here is another singer. Come along now, show what you can do!" - -Sometimes the singer had a good voice, but I do not remember an -occasion on which any of Kleshtchkov's rivals sang so simply and -soulfully as that little conceited harness-maker. - -"M--yes," said the tavern-keeper, not without regret, "it's good, -certainly! The chief thing is that it is a voice, but there's no soul -in it." - -The guests teased him: - -"No, you can't better the harness-maker, you see!" - -And Kleshtchkov, looking at them all from under his red, tufted -eyebrows, said to the tavern-keeper calmly and politely: - -"You waste your time. You will never find a singer with my gifts to set -up in opposition to me; my gift is from God." - -"We are all from God!" - -"You may ruin yourself by the drink you give, but you 'll never find -one." - -The tavern-keeper turned purple and muttered: "How do we know? How do -we know?" - -But Kleshtchkov pointed out to him firmly: - -"Again I tell you this is singing, not a cock-fight." - -"I know that! Why do you keep harping on it?" - -"I am not harping on it; I am simply pointing out something to you. If -a song is nothing but a diversion, it comes from the devil!" - -"All right! You'd better sing again." - -"I can always sing, even in my sleep," agreed Kleshtchkov, and -carefully clearing his throat he began to sing. - -And all nonsense, trashy talk, and ambitions vanished into smoke as -by a miracle; the refreshing streams of a different life, reflective, -pure, full of love and sadness, flowed over us all. - -I envied that man, envied intensely his talent and his power over -people. The way he took advantage of this power was so wonderful! I -wanted to make the acquaintance of the harness-maker, to hold a long -conversation with him, but I could not summon up courage to go to him. - -Kleshtchkov had such a strange way of looking at everybody with his -pale eyes, as if he could not see any one in front of him. But there -was something about him which offended me and prevented me from liking -him; and I wanted to like him for himself, not only when he was -singing. It was unpleasant to see him pull his cap over his head, like -an old man, and swathe his neck, just for show, in that red, knitted -scarf of which he said: - -"My little one knitted this; my only little girl." - -When he was not singing he pouted importantly, rubbed his dead, frozen -nose with his fingers, and answered questions in monosyllables, and -unwillingly. When I approached him and asked him something, he looked -at me and said: - -"Go away, lad!" - -I much preferred the chorister, Mitropolski. When he appeared in the -tavern, he would walk into his corner with the gait of a man carrying -a heavy load, move a chair away with the toe of his boot, and sit down -with his elbows on the table, resting his large shaggy head on his -hands. After he had drunk two or three glasses in silence, he would -utter a resounding cry. Every one would start and look towards him, -but with his chin in his hands he gazed at them defiantly, his mane of -unbrushed hair wildly surrounding his puffy, sallow face. - -"What are you looking at? What do you see?" he would ask with sudden -passion. - -Sometimes they replied: - -"We are looking at a werwolf." - -There were evenings on which he drank in silence, and in silence -departed, heavily dragging his feet. Several times I heard him denounce -people, playing the prophet: - -"I am the incorruptible servant of my God, and I denounce you. Behold -Isaiah! Woe to the town of Ariel. Come, ye wicked, and ye rogues, and -all kinds of dark monstrosities living in the mire of your own base -desires! Woe to the ships of this world, for they carry lewd people on -their sinful way. I know you, drunkards, gluttons, dregs of this world; -there is no time appointed for you. Accursed ones, the very earth -refuses to receive you into her womb!" - -His voice resounded so that the window-panes shook, which delighted his -audience. They praised the prophet: - -"He barks finely, the shaggy cur!" - -It was easy to become acquainted with him; it cost no more than to -offer him hospitality; he required a decanter of vodka and a portion of -ox liver. When I asked him to tell me what kind of books one ought to -read, he answered me with stubborn ferocity by another question: - -"Why read at all?" - -But mollified by my confusion, he added in ringing tones: - -"Have you read Ecclesiastes?" - -"Yes." - -"Read Ecclesiastes. You need nothing more. There is all the wisdom of -the world, only there are sheep who do not understand it; that is to -say, no one understands it. Can you sing at all?" - -"No." - -"Why? You ought to sing. It is _the_ most ridiculous way of passing -time." - -Some one asked him from an adjacent table: - -"But you sing yourself?" - -"Yes; but I am a vagrant. Well?" - -"Nothing." - -"That is nothing new. Every one knows that there is nothing in that -blockhead of yours, and there never will be anything. Amen!" - -In this tone he was in the habit of speaking to me and to every one -else, although after the second or third time of my treating him, he -began to be more gentle with me. One day he actually said with a shade -of surprise: - -"I look at you and I cannot make out what you are, who are you, or why -you are! But whatever you are, may the devil take you!" - -He behaved in an incomprehensible manner to Kleshtchkov. He listened -to him with manifest enjoyment sometimes even with a benign smile, but -he would not make closer acquaintance with him, and spoke about him -coarsely and contemptuously. - -"That barber's block! He knows how to breathe, he understands what to -sing about, but for the rest, he is an ass." - -"Why?" - -"Like all his kind." - -I should have liked to talk with him when he was sober, but when sober -he only bellowed, and looked upon all the world with misty, dull eyes. -I learned from some one that this permanently inebriated man had -studied in the Kazan Academy, and might have become a prelate. I did -not believe this. But one day when I was telling him about myself, I -recalled the name of the bishop, Chrisanph. He tossed his head and said: - -"Chrisanph? I know him. He was my tutor and benefactor. At Kazan, in -the academy, I remember! Chrisanph means 'golden flower.' Yes, that was -a true saying of Pavm Beruind. Yes, he was a flower of gold, Chrisanph!" - -"And who is Pavm Beruind?" I added, but Mitropolski replied shortly: - -"That is none of your business." - -When I reached home I wrote in my note-book, "I must read the works of -Pavm Beruind." I felt, somehow, that I should find therein the answers -to many questions which perplexed me. - -The singer was very fond of using names which were unknown to me, and -curiously coined words. This irritated me greatly. - -"Life is not _aniso_," he said. - -"What is _aniso?"_ I asked. - -"Something advantageous to you," he answered, and my perplexity amused -him. - -These little sayings, and the fact that he had studied in the academy, -led me to think that he knew a great deal, and I was offended with him -for not speaking of his knowledge, or if he did allude to it, being -so unintelligible. Or was it that I had no right to ask him? However, -he left an impression on my mind. I liked the drunken boldness of his -denunciations, which were modelled on those of the prophet Isaias. - -"Oh, unclean and vile ones of earth!" he roared, "the worst among you -are famous, and the best are persecuted. The day of judgment draws -nigh. You will repent then, but it will be too late, too late!" - -As I listened to his roar, I remembered "Good Business," the laundress -Natalia, ruined so hideously and easily, Queen Margot, wrapped in a -cloud of dirty scandal. I already had some memories! - -My brief acquaintance with this man finished curiously. - -I met him in the spring, in the fields near the camp. He was -walking like a camel, moving his head from side to side, solitary, -bloated-looking. - -"Going for a walk?" he asked hoarsely. "Let us go together. I also am -taking a walk. I am ill, Brother; yes." - -We walked some yards without speaking, when suddenly we saw a man in a -pit which had been made under a tent. He was sitting in the bottom of -the pit, leaning on one side, his shoulder resting against the side of -the trench. His coat was drawn up on one side above his ear, as if he -had been trying to take it off and had not succeeded. - -"Drunk," decided the singer, coming to a standstill. - -But on the young grass under the man's arm lay a large revolver, not -far from him lay a cap, and beside it stood a bottle of vodka, hardly -begun. Its empty neck was buried in the long grass. The face of the man -was hidden by his overcoat, as if he were ashamed. - -For a moment we stood in silence. Then Mitropolski, planting his feet -wide apart, said: - -"He has shot himself." - -Then I understood that the man was not drunk, but dead, but it came -upon me so suddenly that I could not believe it. I remember that I felt -neither fear nor pity as I looked at that large, smooth skull, visible -above the overcoat, and on that livid ear. I could not believe that a -man would kill himself on such a pleasant spring day. - -The singer rubbed his unshaven cheeks with his hand, as if he were -cold, and said hoarsely: - -"He is an oldish man. Perhaps his wife has left him, or he has made off -with money not belonging to him." - -He sent me into the town to fetch the police, and himself sat down on -the edge of the pit, letting his feet hang over, wrapping his worn -overcoat closely round him. Having informed the police of the suicide, -I ran back quickly, but in the meantime the chorister had drunk the -dead man's vodka, and came to meet me, waving the empty bottle. - -"This is what ruined him," he cried, and furiously dashing the bottle -to the ground, smashed it to atoms. - -The town constable had followed me. He looked into the pit, took off -his hat, and crossing himself indecisively, asked the singer: - -"Who may you be?" - -"That is not your business." - -The policeman reflected, and then asked more politely: - -"What account do you give of yourself, then? Here is a dead man, and -here are you, drunk!" - -"I have been drunk for twenty years!" said the singer proudly, striking -his chest with the palm of his hand. - -I felt sure that they would arrest him for drinking the vodka. People -came rushing from the town; a severe-looking police inspector cartie in -a cab, descended into the pit, and, lifting aside the overcoat of the -suicide, looked into his face. - -"Who saw him first?" - -"I," said Mitropolski. - -The inspector looked at him and drawled ominously: - -"A-ah! Congratulations, my lord!" - -Sightseers began to gather round; there were a dozen or so of people. -Panting, excited, they surrounded the pit and looked down into it, and -one of them cried: - -"It is a _chinovnik_ who lives in our street; I know him!" - -The singer, swaying, with his cap off, stood before the inspector, and -argued with him inarticulately, shouting something indistinctly. Then -the inspector struck him in the chest. He reeled and sat down, and the -policeman without haste took some string from his pocket and bound the -hands of the singer. He folded them meekly behind his back, as if he -were used to this procedure. Then the inspector began to shout angrily -to the crowd: - -"Be off, now!" - -After this there came another, older policeman, with moist, red eyes, -his mouth hanging open from weariness, and he took hold of the end of -the cord with which the singer was bound, and gently led him into the -town. I also went away dejected from the field. Through my memory, like -a dull echo, rang the avenging words: - -"Woe to the town Ariel!" - -And before my eyes rose that depressing spectacle of the policeman -slowly drawing the string from the pocket of his ulster, and the -awe-inspiring prophet meekly folding his red, hairy hands behind his -back, and crossing his wrists as if he were used to it. - -I soon heard that the prophet had been sent out of the town. And after -him, Kleshtchkov disappeared; he had married well, and had gone to live -in a district where a harness-maker's workshop had been opened. - -I had praised his singing so warmly to my master that he said one day: - -"I must go and hear him!" - -And so one night he sat at a little table opposite to me, raising his -brows in astonishment, his eyes wide open. - -On the way to the tavern he had made fun of me, and during the first -part of the time he was in the tavern, he was railing at me, at -the people there, and at the stuffy smell of the place. When the -harness-maker began to sing he smiled derisively, and began to pour -himself a glass of beer, but he stopped half-way, saying: - -"Who the devil--?" - -His hand trembled; he set the bottle down gently, and began to listen -with intentness. - -"Ye-es, Brother," he said with a sigh, when Kleshtchkov had finished -singing, "he can sing! The devil take him! He has even made the air -hot." - -The harness-maker sang again, with his head back, gazing up at the -ceiling: - - "On the road from the flourishing village - A young girl came over the dewy fields." - -"He can sing," muttered my master, shaking his head and smiling. - -And Kleshtchkov poured forth his song, clear as the music of a reed: - - "And the beautiful maiden answered him: - 'An orphan am I, no one wants me.'" - -"Good!" whispered my master, blinking his reddening eyes. "Phew! it is -devilish good!" - -I looked at him and rejoiced, and the sobbing words of the song -conquered the noise of the tavern, sounded more powerful, more -beautiful, more touching every moment. - - I live solitary in our village. - A young girl am I; they never ask me out. - Oie, poor am I, my dress it is not fine; - I am not fit, I know, for a brave young man. - A widower would marry me to do his work; - I do not wish to bow myself to such a fate. - -My master wept undisguisedly; he sat with his head bent; his prominent -nose twitched, and tears splashed on his knees. After the third song, -agitated and dishevelled, he said: - -"I can't sit here any longer; I shall be stifled with these odors. Let -us go home." - -But when we were in the street he said: - -"Come along, Pyeshkov, let us go to a restaurant and have something to -eat. I don't want to go home!" - -He hailed a sledge, without haggling about the charge, and said nothing -while we were on the way, but in the restaurant, after taking a table -in a corner, he began at once in an undertone, looking about him the -while, to complain angrily. - -"He has thoroughly upset me, that goat; to such a state of melancholy -he has driven me! Here you are--you read and think about things--just -tell me now, what the devil is the use of it all? One lives; forty -years pass by; one has a wife and children, and no one to talk to! -There are times when I want to unburden my soul, to talk to some one -about all sorts of things, but there is no one I can talk to. I can't -talk to my wife; I have nothing in common with her. What is she, after -all? She has her children and the house; that's her business. She is a -stranger to my soul. A wife is your friend till the first child comes. -In fact, she is--on the whole--Well, you can see for yourself she does -not dance to my piping. Flesh without spirit, the devil take you! It is -a grief to me, Brother." - -He drank the cold, bitter beer feverishly, was silent for a time, -ruffling his long hair, and then he went on: - -"Human creatures are riff-raff for the most part, Brother! There -you are, for instance, talking to the workmen. Oh yes, I understand -there is a lot of trickery, and baseness; it is true, Brother; they -are thieves all of them! But do you think that what you say makes -any difference to them! Not an atom! No! They are all--Petr, Osip as -well--rogues! They speak about me, and you speak for me, and all--what -is the use of it, Brother?" - -I was dumb from sheer amazement. - -"That's it!" said my master, smiling. "You were right to think of going -to Persia. There you would understand nothing; it is a foreign language -they speak there! But in your own language you 'll hear nothing but -baseness!" - -"Has Osip been telling you about me?" I asked. - -"Well, yes! But what did you expect? He talks more than any of them; he -is a gossip. He is a sly creature, Brother! No, Pyeshkov, words don't -touch them. Am I not right? And what the devil is the use of it? And -what the devil difference does it make? None! It is like snow in the -autumn, falling in the mud and melting. It only makes more mud. You had -far better hold your tongue." - -He drank glass after glass of beer. He did not get drunk, but he talked -more and more quickly and fiercely. - -"The proverb says, 'Speech is silver, silence is golden.' Ekh, Brother, -it is all sorrow, sorrow! He sang truly, 'Solitary I live in our -village.' Human life is all loneliness." - -He glanced round, lowered his voice, and continued: - -"And I had found a friend after my own heart. There was a woman -who happened to be alone, as good as a widow; her husband had been -condemned to Siberia for coining money, and was in prison there. I -became acquainted with her; she was penniless; it was that, you know, -which led to our acquaintance. I looked at her and thought, 'What a -nice little person!' Pretty, you know, young, simply wonderful. I saw -her once or twice, and then I said to her: 'Your husband is a rogue. -You are not living honestly yourself. Why do you want to go to Siberia -after him?' But she would follow him into exile. She said to me: -'Whatever he is, I love him; he is good to me! It may be that it was -for me he sinned. I have sinned with you. For' his sake,' she said, 'I -had to have money; he is a gentleman and accustomed to live well. If I -had been single,' she said, 'I should have lived honorably. You are a -good man, too,' she said, 'and I like you very much, but don't talk to -me about this again.' The devil! I gave her all I had--eighty rubles or -thereabouts--and I said: 'You must pardon me, but I cannot see you any -more. I cannot!' And I left her--and that's how--" - -He was silent, and then he suddenly became drunk. He sank into a -huddled-up heap and muttered: - -"Six times I went to see her. You can't understand what it was like! I -might have gone to her flat six more times, but I could not make up my -mind to it. I could not! Now she has gone away." - -He laid his hands on the table, and in a whisper, moving his fingers, -said: - -"God grant I never meet her again! God grant it! Then it would be going -to the devil! Let us go home. Come!" - -We went. He staggered along, muttering: - -"That's how it is, Brother." - -I was not surprised by the story he had told me; I had long ago guessed -that something unusual had happened to him. But I was greatly depressed -by what he had said about life, and more by what he had said about -Osip. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -I lived three years as overseer in that dead town, amid empty -buildings, watching the workmen pull down clumsy stone shops in the -autumn, and rebuild them in the same way in the spring. - -The master took great care that I should earn his five rubles. If the -floor of a shop had to be laid again, I had to remove earth from the -whole area to the depth of one arshin. The dock laborers were paid -a ruble for this work, but I received nothing; and while I was thus -occupied, I had no time to look after the carpenters, who unscrewed -the locks and handles from the doors and committed petty thefts of all -kinds. - -Both the workmen and the contractors tried in every way to cheat me, -to steal something, and they did it almost openly, as if they were -performing an unpleasant duty; were not in the least indignant when I -accused them, but were merely amazed. - -"You make as much fuss over five rubles as you would over twenty. It is -funny to hear you!" - -I pointed out to my master that, while he saved one ruble by my labor, -he lost ten times more in this way, but he merely blinked at me and -said: - -"That will do! You are making that up!" - -I understood that he suspected me of conniving at the thefts, which -aroused in me a feeling of repulsion towards him, but I was not -offended. In that class of life they all steal, and even the master -liked to take what did not belong to him. - -When, after the fair, he looked into one of the shops which he was to -rebuild, and saw a forgotten samovar, a piece of crockery, a carpet, or -a pair of scissors which had been forgotten, even sometimes a case, or -some merchandise, my master would say, smiling: - -"Make a list of the things and take them all to the store-room." - -And he would take them home with him from the store-room, telling me -sometimes to cross them off the list. - -I did not love "things"; I had no desire to possess them; even books -were an embarrassment to me. I had none of my own, save the little -volumes of Béranger and the songs of Heine. I should have liked to -obtain Pushkin, but the book-dealer in the town was an evil old man, -who asked a great deal too much for Pushkin's works. The furniture, -carpets, and mirrors, which bulked so largely in my master's house, -gave me no pleasure, irritated me by their melancholy clumsiness and -smell of paint and lacquer. Most of all I disliked the mistress's -room, which reminded me of a trunk packed with all kinds of useless, -superfluous objects. And I was disgusted with my master for bringing -home other people's things from the storehouse. Queen Margot's rooms -had been cramped too, but they were beautiful in spite of it. - -Life, on the whole, seemed to me to be a disconnected, absurd affair; -there was too much of the obviously stupid about it. Here we were -building shops which the floods inundated in the spring, soaking -through the floors, making the outer doors hang crooked. When the -waters subsided the joists had begun to rot. Annually the water had -overflowed the market-place for the last ten years, spoiling the -buildings and the bridges. These yearly floods did enormous damage, and -yet they all knew that the waters would not be diverted of themselves. - -Each spring the breaking of the ice cut up the barges, and dozens of -small vessels. The people groaned and built new ones, which the ice -again broke. It was like a ridiculous treadmill whereon one remains -always in the same place. I asked Osip about it. He looked amazed, and -then laughed. - -"Oh, you heron! What a young heron he is! What is it to do with you at -all? What is it to you, eh?" - -But then he spoke more gravely, although he could not extinguish the -light of merriment in his pale blue eyes, which had a clearness not -belonging to old age. - -"That's a very intelligent observation! Let us suppose that the affair -does not concern you; all the same it may be worth something to you to -understand it. Take this case, for example--" - -And he related in a dry speech, interspersed lavishly with quaint -sayings, unusual comparisons, and all kinds of drollery: - -"Here is a case where people are to be pitied; they have only a little -land, and in the springtime the Volga overflows its banks, carries away -the earth, and lays it upon its own sand-banks. Then others complain -that the bed of the Volga is choked up. The springtime streams and -summer rains tear up the gulleys, and again earth is carried away to -the river." - -He spoke without either pity or malice, but as if he enjoyed his -knowledge of the miseries of life, and although his words were in -agreement with my own ideas, yet it was unpleasant to listen to them. - -"Take another instance; fires." - -I don't think I can remember a summer when the forests beyond the Volga -did not catch fire. Every July the sky was clouded by a muddy yellow -smoke; the leaden sun, all its brightness gone, looked down on the -earth like a bad eye. - -"As for forests, who cares about them?" said Osip. "They all belong to -the nobles, or the crown; the peasants don't own them. And if towns -catch fire, that is not a very serious business either. Rich people -live in towns; they are not to be pitied. But take the villages. How -many villages are burned down every summer? Not less than a hundred, I -should think; that's a serious loss!" - -He laughed softly. - -"Some people have property and don't know how to manage it, and between -ourselves, a man has to work not so much on his own behalf, or on the -land, as against fire and water." - -"Why do you laugh?" - -"Why not? You won't put a fire out with your tears, nor will they make -the floods more mighty." - -I knew that this handsome old man was more clever than any one I had -met; but what were his real sympathies and antipathies? I was thinking -about this all the time he was adding his little dry sayings to my -store. - -"Look round you, and see how little people preserve their own, or -other people's strength. How your master squanders yours! And how much -does water cost in a village? Reflect a little; it is better than any -cleverness which comes from learning. If a peasant's hut is burned, -another one can be put up in its place, but when a worthy peasant loses -his sight, you can't set that right! Look at Ardalon, for example, -or Grisha; see how a man can break out! A foolish fellow, the first, -but Grisha is a man of understanding. He smokes like a hayrick. Women -attacked him, as worms attack a murdered man in a wood." - -I asked him without anger, merely out of curiosity: - -"Why did you go and tell the master about my ideas?" - -He answered calmly, even kindly: - -"So that he might know what harmful ideas you have. It was necessary, -in order that he may teach you better ones. Who should teach you, if -not he? I did not speak to him out of malice, but out of pity for you. -You are not a stupid lad, but the devil is racking your brain. If I had -caught you stealing, or running after the girls, or drinking, I should -have held my tongue. But I shall always repeat all your wild talk to -the master; so now you know." - -"I won't talk to you, then!" - -He was silent, scratching the resin off his hands with his nails. Then -he looked at me with an expression of affection and said: - -"That you will! To whom else will you talk? There is no one else." - -Clean and neat, Osip at times reminded me of the stoker, Yaakov, -absolutely indifferent to every one. Sometimes he reminded me of the -valuer, Petr Vassiliev, sometimes of the drayman, Petr; occasionally -he revealed a trait which was like grandfather. In one way or another -he was like all the old men I had known. They were all amazingly -interesting old men, but I felt that it was impossible to live with -them; it would be oppressive and repulsive. They had corroded their own -hearts, as it were; their clever speeches hid hearts red with rust. Was -Osip good-hearted? No. Malevolent? Also no. That he was clever was all -that was clear to me. But while it astounded me by its pliability, that -intelligence of his deadened me, and the end of it was that I felt he -was inimical to me in all kinds of ways. - -In my heart seethed the black thoughts: - -"All human creatures are strangers to one another despite their sweet -words and smiles. And more; we are all strangers on the earth, too; no -one seems to be bound to it by a powerful feeling of love. Grandmother -alone loved to be alive, and loved all creatures--grandmother and -gracious Queen Margot. - -Sometimes these and similar thoughts increased the density of the dark -fog around me. Life had become suffocating and oppressive; but how -could I live a different life? Whither could I go? I had no one to -talk to, even, except Osip, and I talked to him more and more often. -He listened to my heated babbling with evident interest, asked me -questions, drove home a point, and said calmly: - -"The persistent woodpecker is not terrible; no one is afraid of him. -But with all my heart I advise you to go into a monastery and live -there till you are grown up. You will have edifying conversations with -holy men to console you, you will be at peace, and you will be a source -of revenue to the monks. That's my sincere advice to you. It is evident -that you are not fit for worldly business." - -I had no desire to enter a monastery, but I felt that I was -being entangled and bewildered in the enchanted circle, of the -incomprehensible. I was miserable. Life for me was like a forest in -autumn. The mushrooms had come and gone, there was nothing to do in the -empty forest, and I seemed to know all there was to know in it. - -I did not drink vodka, and I had nothing to do with girls; books took -the place of these two forms of intoxication for me. But the more I -read, the harder it was for me to go on living the empty, unnecessary -life that most people lived. - -I had only just turned fifteen years of age, but sometimes I felt like -an elderly man. I was, as it were, inwardly swollen and heavy with all -I had lived through and read, or restlessly pondered. Looking into -myself, I discovered that my receptacle for impressions was like a dark -lumber-room closely packed with all kinds of things, of which I had -neither the strength nor the wit to rid myself. - -And although they were so numerous, all these cumbersome articles were -not solidly packed, but floated about, and made me waver as water makes -a piece of crockery waver which does not stand firm. - -I had a fastidious dislike of unhappiness, illness, and grievances. -When I saw cruelty, blood, fights even verbal baiting of a person, it -aroused a physical repulsion in me which was swiftly transformed into a -cold fury. This made me fight myself, like a wild beast, after which I -would be painfully ashamed of myself. - -Sometimes I was so passionately desirous of beating a bully that I -threw myself blindly into a fight, and even now I remember those -attacks of despair, born of my impotence, with shame and grief. - -Within me dwelt two persons. One was cognizant of only too many -abominations and obscenities, somewhat timid for that reason, was -crushed by the knowledge of everyday horrors, and had begun to view -life and people distrustfully, contemptuously, with a feeble pity for -every one, including himself. This person dreamed of a quiet, solitary -life with books, without people, of monasteries, of a forest-keeper's -lodge, a railway signal box, of Persia, and the office of the night -watchman somewhere on the outskirts of the town. Only to see fewer -people, to be remote from human creatures! - -The other person, baptized by the holy spirit of noble and wise books, -observing the overwhelming strength of the daily horrors of life, felt -how easily that strength might sap one's brain-power, trample the heart -with dirty footprints, and, fighting against it with all his force, -with clenched teeth and fists, was always ready for a quarrel or a -fight. He loved and pitied actively, and, like the brave hero in French -novels, drew his sword from his scabbard on the slightest provocation, -and stood in a warlike position. - -At that time I had a bitter enemy in the door-keeper of one of the -brothels in Little Pokrovski Street. I made his acquaintance one -morning as I was going to the market-place; he was dragging from -a hackney-carriage, standing at the gate in front of the house, a -girl who was dead drunk. He seized her by the legs in their wrinkled -stockings, and thus held her shamelessly, bare to the waist, exclaiming -and laughing. He spat upon her body, and she came down with a jolt out -of the carriage, dishevelled, blind, with open mouth, with her soft -arms hanging behind her as if they had no joints. Her spine, the back -of her neck, and her livid face struck the seat of the carriage and the -step, and at length she fell on the pavement, striking her head on the -stones. - -The driver whipped up his horse and drove off, and the porter, taking -one foot in each hand and stepping backward, dragged her along as if -she had been a corpse. I lost control of myself and made a rush at him, -but as luck would have it, I hurled myself against, or accidentally -ran into a rainwater-barrel, which saved both the porter and me a -great deal of unpleasantness. Striking him on the rebound, I knocked -him over, darted up the steps, and desperately pulled the bell-handle. -Some infuriated people rushed on the scene, and as I could not explain -anything, I went away, picking up the barrel. - -On the way I overtook the cab. The driver looked down at me from the -coach-box and said: - -"You knocked him over smartly." - -I asked him angrily how he could allow the porter to make sport of the -girl, and he replied calmly, with a fastidious air: - -"As for me, let them go to the dogs! A gentleman paid me when he put -her in my cab. What is it to me if one person beats another?" - -"And if he had killed her?" - -"Oh, well; you soon kill that sort!" said the driver, as if he had -repeatedly tried to kill drunken girls. - -After that I saw the porter nearly every day. When I passed up the -street he would be sweeping the pavement, or sitting on the steps as if -he were waiting for me. As I approached him he would stand up, tuck up -his sleeves, and announce kindly: - -"I am going to smash you to atoms now!" - -He was over forty, small, bow-legged, with a pendulous paunch. When he -laughed he looked at me with beaming eyes, and it was terribly strange -to me to see that they were kind and merry. He could not fight, because -his arms were shorter than mine, and after two or three turns he let -me go, leaned his back against the gate, and said, apparently in great -surprise: - -"All right; you wait, clever!" - -These fights bored me, and one day I said to him: "Listen, fool! Why -don't you let me alone?" - -"Why do you fight, then?" he asked reproachfully. I asked him in turn -why he had maltreated the girl. "What did it matter to you? Are you -sorry for her?" - -"Of course I am!" - -He was silent, rubbing his lips, and then asked: - -"And would you be sorry for a cat?" - -"Yes, I should." - -Then he said: - -"You are a fool, rascal! Wait; I'll show you something." - -I never could avoid passing up that street--it was the shortest -way--but I began to get up earlier, in order not to meet the man. -However, in a few days I saw him again, sitting on the steps and -stroking a smoke-colored cat which lay on his knees. When I was about -three paces from him he jumped up, seized the cat by the legs, and -dashed its head against the stone balustrade, so that I was splashed -with the warm blood. He then hurled the cat under my feet and stood at -the gate, crying: - -"What now?" - -What could I do? We rolled about the yard like two curs, and afterward, -as I sat on a grassy slope, nearly crazy with inexpressible grief, I -bit my lips to keep myself from howling. When I remember it I shiver -with a feeling of sickening repulsion, amazed that I did not go out of -my mind and kill some one. - -Why do I relate these abominations? So that you may know, kind sirs, -that is not all past and done with! You have a liking for grim -fantasies; you are delighted with horrible stories well told; the -grotesquely terrible excites you pleasantly. But I know of genuine -horrors, everyday terrors, and I have an undeniable right to excite you -unpleasantly by telling you about them, in order that you may remember -how w? live, and under what circumstances. A low and unclean life it -is, ours, and that is the truth! - -I am a lover of humanity and I have no desire to make any one -miserable, but one must not be sentimental, nor hide the grim truth -with the motley words of beautiful lies. Let us face life as it is! -All that is good and human in our hearts and brains needs renewing. -What went to my head most of all was the attitude of the average man -toward women. From my reading of novels I had learned to look upon -woman as the best and most significant thing in life. Grandmother had -strengthened me in this belief by her stories about Our Lady and -Vassilissia the Wise. What I knew of the unhappy laundress, Natalia, -and those hundred and thousands of glances and smiles which I observed, -with which women, the mothers of life, adorn this life of sordid joys, -sordid loves, also helped me. - -The books of Turgenieff sang the praises of woman, and with all the -good I knew about women I had adorned the image of Queen Margot in my -memory. Heine and Turgenieff especially gave me much that was precious -for this purpose. - -In the evenings as I was returning from the marketplace I used to -halt on the hill by the walls of the Kreml and look at the sun -setting beyond the Volga. Fiery streams flowed over the heavens; the -terrestrial, beloved river had turned purple and blue. Sometimes in -such moments the land looked like an enormous convict barge; it had the -appearance of a pig being lazily towed along by an invisible steamer. - -But I thought more often of the great world, of towns which I had -read about, of foreign countries where people lived in a different -manner. Writers of other countries depicted life as cleaner, more -attractive, less burdensome than that life which seethed sluggishly -and monotonously around me. This thought calmed my disturbed spirit, -aroused visions of the possibility of a different life for me. - -And I felt that I should meet some simple-minded, wise man who would -lead me on that broad, bright road. - -One day as I sat on a bench by the walls of the Kreml my Uncle Yaakov -appeared at my side. I had not noticed his approach, and I did not -recognize him at once. Although we had lived in the same town during -several years, we had met seldom, and then only accidentally and for a -mere glimpse of each other. - -"Ekh! how you have stretched out!" he said jestingly, and we fell to -talking like two people long acquainted but not intimate. - -From what grandmother had told me I knew that Uncle Yaakov had spent -those years in quarrelling and idleness; he had had a situation as -assistant warder at the local goal, but his term of service ended -badly. The chief warder being ill, Uncle Yaakov arranged festivities -in his own quarters for the convicts. This was discovered, and he was -dismissed and handed over to the police on the charge of having let the -prisoners out to "take a walk" in the town at night. None of them had -escaped, but one was caught in the act of trying to throttle a certain -deacon. The business dragged on for a long time, but the matter never -came into court; the convicts and the warders were able to exculpate my -good uncle. But now he lived without working on the earnings of his son -who sang in the church choir at Rukavishnikov, which was famous at that -time. He spoke oddly of this son: - -"He has become very solemn and important! He is a soloist. He gets -angry if the samovar is not ready to time, or if his clothes are not -brushed. A very dapper fellow he is, and clean." - -Uncle himself had aged considerably; he looked grubby and fallen away. -His gay, curly locks had grown very scanty, and his ears stuck out; in -the whites of his eyes and on the leathery skin of his shaven cheeks -there appeared thick, red veins. He spoke jestingly, but it seemed -as if there were something in his mouth which impeded his utterance, -although his teeth were sound. - -I was glad to have the chance of talking to a man who knew how to live -well, had seen much, and must therefore know much. I well remembered -his lively, comical songs and grandfather's words about him: - -"In songs he is King David, but in business he plots evil, like -Absalom!" - -On the promenade a well-dressed crowd passed and repassed: luxuriously -attired gentlemen, _chinovniks_, officers; uncle was dressed in a -shabby, autumn overcoat, a battered cap, and brown boots, and was -visibly pricked by annoyance at the thought of his own costume. We went -into one of the public-houses on the Pochainski Causeway, taking a -table near the window which opened on the market-place. - -"Do you remember how you sang: - - "'A beggar hung his leggings to dry, - And another beggar came and stole them away'?" - -When I had uttered the words of the song, I felt for the first time -their mocking meaning, and it seemed to me that my gay uncle was -both witty and malicious. But he, pouring vodka into a glass, said -thoughtfully: - -"Well, I am getting on in years, and I have made very little of my -life. That song is not mine; it was composed by a teacher in the -seminary. What was his name now? He is dead; I have forgotten. We were -great friends. He was a bachelor. He died in his sleep, in a fit. How -many people have gone to sleep that I can remember? It would be hard -to count them. You don't drink? That is right; don't! Do you see your -grandfather often? He is not a happy old man. I believe he is going out -of his mind." - -After a few drinks he became more lively, held himself up, looked -younger, and began to speak with more animation. I asked him for the -story of the convicts. - -"You heard about it?" he inquired, and with a glance around, and -lowering his voice, he said; - -"What about the convicts? I was not their judge, you know; I saw them -merely as human creatures, and I said: 'Brothers, let us live together -in harmony, let us live happily! There is a song,' I said, 'which runs -like this: - - "Imprisonment to happiness is no bar, - Let them do with us as they will! - Still we shall live for sake of laughter, - He is a fool who lives otherwise." - -He laughed, glanced out of the window on the darkening causeway, and -continued, smoothing his whiskers: - -"Of course they were dull in that prison, and as soon as the roll-call -was over, they came to me. We had vodka and dainties, sometimes -provided by me, sometimes by themselves. I love songs and dancing, and -among them were some excellent singers and dancers. It was astonishing! -Some of them, were in fetters, and it was no calumny to say that I -undid their chains; it is true. But bless you, they knew how to take -them off by themselves without a blacksmith; they are a handy lot of -people; it is astonishing! But to say that I let them wander about the -town to rob people is rubbish, and it was never proved!" - -He was silent, gazing out of the window on the causeway where the -merchants were shutting up their chests of goods; iron bars rattled, -rusty hinges creaked, some boards fell with a resounding crash. Then -winking at me gaily, he continued in a low voice: - -"To speak the truth, one of them did really go out at night, only -he was not one of the fettered ones, but simply a local thief from -the lower end of the town; his sweetheart lived not far away on the -Pechorka. And the affair with the deacon happened through a mistake; he -took the deacon for a merchant. It was a winter night, in a snowstorm; -everybody was wearing a fur coat; how could he tell the difference in -his haste between a deacon and a merchant?" - -This struck me as being funny, and he laughed himself as he said: - -"Yes, by gad! It was the very devil--" - -Here my uncle became unexpectedly and strangely angry. He pushed away -his plate of savories, frowned with an expression of loathing, and, -smoking a cigarette, muttered: - -"They rob one another; then they catch one another and put one another -away in prisons in Siberia, in the galleys; but what is it to do with -me? I spit upon them all! I have my own soul!" - -The shaggy stoker stood before me; he also had been wont to "spit upon" -people, and he also was called Yaakov. - -"What are you thinking about?" asked my uncle softly. - -"Were you sorry for the convicts?" - -"It is easy to pity them, they are such children; it is amazing! -Sometimes I would look at one of them and think: I am not worthy to -black his boots; although I am set over him! Clever devils, skilful -with their hands." - -The wine and his reminiscences had again pleasantly animated him. With -his elbows resting on the window-sill, waving his yellow hand with the -cigarette between its fingers, he spoke with energy: - -"One of them, a crooked fellow, an engraver and watchmaker, was -convicted of coining. You ought to have heard how he talked! It was -like a song, a flame! 'Explain to me,' he would say; 'why may the -exchequer coin money while I may not? Tell me that!' And no one could -tell him why, no one, not even I, and I was chief over him. There was -another, a well-known Moscow thief, quiet mannered, foppish, neat as -a pin, who used to say courteously: 'People work till their senses are -blunted, and I have no desire to do the same. I have tried it. You -work and work till weariness has made a fool of you, get drunk on two -copecks, lose seven copecks at cards, get a woman to be kind to you for -five copecks, and then, all over again, cold and hungry. No,' he says, -'I am not playing that game.'" - -Uncle Yaakov bent over the table and continued, reddening to the tips -of his ears. He was so excited that even his small ears quivered. - -"They were no fools, Brother; they knew what was right! To the devil -with red tape! Take myself, for instance; what has my life been? I look -back on it with shame, everything by snatches, stealthily; my sorrows -were my own, but all my joys were stolen. Either my father shouted, -'Don't you dare!' or my wife screamed, 'You cannot!' I was afraid to -throw down a ruble. And so all my life has passed away, and here I am -acting the lackey to my own son. Why should I hide it? I serve him, -Brother, meekly, and he scolds me like a gentleman. He says, 'Father!' -and I obey like a footman. Is that what I was born for, and what I -struggled on in poverty for--that I should be servant to my own son? -But, even without that, why was I born? What pleasure have I had in -life?" - -I listened to him inattentively. However, I said reluctantly, and not -expecting an answer: - -"I don't know what sort of a life mine will be." - -He burst out laughing. - -"Well, and who does know? I have never met any one yet who knew! So -people live; he who can get accustomed to anything--" - -And again he began to speak in an offended, angry tone: - -"One of the men I had was there for assault, a man from Orla, a -gentleman, who danced beautifully. He made us all laugh by a song about -Vanka: - - "Vanka passes by the churchyard, - That is a very simple matter! - Ach! Vanka, draw your horns in - For you won't get beyond the graveyard! - -"I don't think that is at all funny, but it is true! As you can't come -back, you can't see beyond the graveyard. In that case it is the same -to me whether I am a convict, or a warder over convicts." - -He grew tired of talking, drank his vodka, and looked into the empty -decanter with one eye, like a bird. He silently lighted another -cigarette, blowing the smoke through his mustache. - -"Don't struggle, don't hope for anything, for the grave and the -churchyard let no man pass them," the mason, Petr, used to say -sometimes, yet he was absolutely dissimilar to Uncle Yaakov. How many -such sayings I knew already! - -I had nothing more to ask my uncle about. It was melancholy to be with -him, and I was sorry for him. I kept recalling his lively songs and the -sound of the guitar which produced joy out of a gentle melancholy. I -had not forgotten merry Tzigan. I had not forgotten, and as I looked at -the battered countenance of Uncle Yaakov, I thought involuntarily: - -"Does he remember how he crushed Tzigan to death with the cross?" - -But I had no desire to ask him about it. I looked into the causeway, -which was flooded with a gray August fog. The smell of apples and -melons floated up to me. Along the narrow streets of the town the lamps -gleamed; I knew it all by heart. At that moment I heard the siren of -the Ribinsk steamer, and then of that other which was bound for Perm. - -"Well, we 'd better go," said my uncle. - -At the door of the tavern as he shook my hand he said jokingly: - -"Don't be a hypochondriac. You are rather inclined that way, eh? Spit -on it! You are young. The chief thing you have to remember is that -'Fate is no hindrance to happiness.' Well, good-by; I am going to -Uspen!" - -My cheerful uncle left me more bewildered than ever by his conversation. - -I walked up to the town and came out in the fields. It was midnight; -heavy clouds floated in the sky, obliterating my shadow on the earth by -their own black shadows. Leaving the town for the fields, I reached the -Volga, and there I lay in the dusty grass and looked for a long time at -the river, the meadow, on that motionless earth. Across the Volga the -shadows of the clouds floated slowly; by the time they had reached the -meadows they looked brighter, as if they had been washed in the water -of the river. Everything around seemed half asleep, stupefied as it -were, moving unwillingly, and only because it was compelled to do so, -and not from a flaming love of movement and life. - -And I desired so ardently to cast a beneficent spell over the whole -earth and myself, which would cause every one, myself included, to be -swept by a joyful whirlwind, a festival dance of people, loving one -another in this life, spending their lives for the sake of others, -beautiful, brave, honorable. - -I thought: - -"I must do something for myself, or I shall be ruined." - -On frowning autumn days, when one not only did not see the sun, but did -not feel it, either--forgot all about it, in fact--on autumn days, more -than once--I happened to be wandering in the forest. Having left the -high road and lost all trace of the pathways, I at length grew tired -of looking for them. Setting my teeth, I went straight forward, over -fallen trees which were rotting, over the unsteady mounds which rose -from the marshes, and in the end I always came out on the right road. - -It was in this way that I made up my mind. - -In the autumn of that year I went to Kazan, in the secret hope of -finding some means of studying there. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the World, by Maxim Gorky - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE WORLD *** - -***** This file should be named 55502-8.txt or 55502-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/5/0/55502/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version,also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: In the World - -Author: Maxim Gorky - -Translator: Gertrude M. Foakes - -Release Date: September 7, 2017 [EBook #55502] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE WORLD *** - - - - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version,also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... MOOC's, educational materials,...) -Images generously made available by the Internet Archive.) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<h1>IN THE WORLD</h1> - -<h3>BY</h3> - -<h5>MAXIM GORKY</h5> - -<h4><i>Author of "My Childhood," etc.</i></h4> - -<h4>TRANSLATED BY</h4> - -<h4>MRS. GERTRUDE M. FOAKES</h4> - -<h5>NEW YORK</h5> - -<h5>THE CENTURY CO.</h5> - -<h5>1917</h5> - -<hr class="full" /> -<p><a href="#Contents">Contents</a></p> - -<h3>IN THE WORLD</h3> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h5> - - -<p>I went out into the world as "shop-boy" at a fashionable boot-shop in -the main street of the town. My master was a small, round man. He had a -brown, rugged face, green teeth, and watery, mud-colored eyes. At first -I thought he was blind, and to see if my supposition was correct, I -made a grimace.</p> - -<p>"Don't pull your face about!" he said to me gently, but sternly. The -thought that those dull eyes could see me was unpleasant, and I did not -want to believe that this was the case. Was it not more than probable -that he had guessed I was making grimaces?</p> - -<p>"I told you not to pull your face about," he said again, hardly moving -his thick lips.</p> - -<p>"Don't scratch your hands," his dry whisper came to me, as it were, -stealthily. "You are serving in a first-class shop in the main street -of the town, and you must not forget it. The door-boy ought to stand -like a statue."</p> - -<p>I did not know what a statue was, and I could n't help scratching my -hands, which were covered with red pimples and sores, for they had been -simply devoured by vermin.</p> - -<p>"What did you do for a living when you were at home?" asked my master, -looking at my hands.</p> - -<p>I told him, and he shook his round head, which was closely covered with -gray hair, and said in a shocked voice:</p> - -<p>"Rag-picking! Why, that is worse than begging or stealing!"</p> - -<p>I informed him, not without pride:</p> - -<p>"But I stole as well."</p> - -<p>At this he laid his hands on his desk, looking just like a cat with her -paws up, and fixed his eyes on my face with a terrified expression as -he whispered:</p> - -<p>"Wha—a—t? How did you steal?"</p> - -<p>I explained how and what I had stolen.</p> - -<p>"Well, well, I look upon that as nothing but a prank. But if you rob me -of boots or money, I will have you put in prison, and kept there for -the rest of your life."</p> - -<p>He said this quite calmly, and I was frightened, and did not like him -any more.</p> - -<p>Besides the master, there were serving in the shop my cousin, Sascha -Jaakov, and the senior assistant, a competent, unctuous person with a -red face. Sascha now wore a brown frock-coat, a false shirt-front, a -cravat, and long trousers, and was too proud to take any notice of me.</p> - -<p>When grandfather had brought me to my master, he had asked Sascha to -help me and to teach me. Sascha had frowned with an air of importance -as he said warning:</p> - -<p>"He will have to do what I tell him, then."</p> - -<p>Laying his hand on my head, grandfather had forced me to bend my neck.</p> - -<p>"You are to obey him; he is older than you both in years and -experience."</p> - -<p>And Sascha said to me, with a nod:</p> - -<p>"Don't forget what grandfather has said." He lost no time in profiting -by his seniority.</p> - -<p>"Kashirin, don't look so goggle-eyed," his master would advise him.</p> - -<p>"I—I'm all right," Sascha would mutter, putting his head down. But the -master would not leave him alone.</p> - -<p>"Don't butt; the customers will think you are a goat."</p> - -<p>The assistant smiled respectfully, the master stretched his lips in -a hideous grin, and Sascha, his face flushing, retreated behind the -counter. I did not like the tone of these conversations. Many of the -words they used were unintelligible to me, and sometimes they seemed to -be speaking in a strange language. When a lady customer came in, the -master would take his hands out of his pockets, tug at his mustache, -and fix a sweet smile upon his face—a smile which wrinkled his cheeks, -but did not change the expression of his dull eyes. The assistant -would draw himself up, with his elbows pressed closely against his -sides, and his wrists respectfully dangling. Sascha would blink shyly, -trying to hide his protruding eyes, while I would stand at the door, -surreptitiously scratching my hands, and observing the ceremonial of -selling.</p> - -<p>Kneeling before the customer, the assistant would try on shoes with -wonderfully deft fingers. He touched the foot of the woman so carefully -that his hands trembled, as if he were afraid of breaking her leg. -But the leg was stout enough. It looked like a bottle with sloping -shoulders, turned neck downward.</p> - -<p>One of these ladies pulled her foot away one day, shrieking:</p> - -<p>"Oh, you are tickling me!"</p> - -<p>"That is—because—you are so sensitive," the assistant explained -hastily, with warmth.</p> - -<p>It was comical to watch him fawning upon the customers, and I had -to turn and look through the glass of the door to keep myself from -laughing. But something used to draw me back to watch the sale. The -proceedings of the assistant were very interesting, and while I looked -at him I was thinking that I should never be able to make my fingers -move so delicately, or so deftly put boots on other people's feet.</p> - -<p>It often happened that the master went away from the shop into a little -room behind it, and he would call Sascha to him, leaving the assistant -alone with the customer. Once, lingering over the foot of a red-haired -woman, he took it between his fingers and kissed it.</p> - -<p>"Oh," breathed the woman, "what a bold man you are!"</p> - -<p>He puffed out his cheeks and emitted a long-drawn-out sound:</p> - -<p>"O—o—h!"</p> - -<p>At this I laughed so much that, to keep my feet, I had to hang on to -the handle of the door. It flew open, and my head knocked against one -of the panes of glass and broke it. The assistant stamped his foot at -me, my master hit me on the head with his heavy gold ring, and Sascha -tried to pull my ears. In the evening, when we were on our way home, he -said to me, sternly:</p> - -<p>"You will lose your place for doing things like that. I 'd like to -know where the joke comes in." And then he explained: "If ladies take -a fancy to the assistant, it is good for trade. A lady may not be in -need of boots, but she comes in and buys what she does not want just -to have a look at the assistant, who pleases her. But you—you can't -understand! One puts oneself out for you, and—"</p> - -<p>This incensed me. No one put himself out for me, and he least of all.</p> - -<p>In the morning the cook, a sickly, disagreeable woman, used to call -me before him. I had to clean the boots and brush the clothes of the -master, the assistant, and Sascha, get the samovar ready, bring in wood -for all the stoves, and wash up. When I got to the shop I had to sweep -the floor, dust, get the tea ready, carry goods to the customers, and -go home to fetch the dinner, my duty at the door being taken in the -meantime by Sascha, who, finding it lowering to his dignity, rated me.</p> - -<p>"Lazy young wretch! I have to do all your work for you."</p> - -<p>This was a wearisome, dull life for me. I was accustomed to live -independently in the sandy streets of Kunavin, on the banks of the -turbid Oka, in the fields or woods, from morning to night. I was parted -from grandmother and from my comrades. I had no one to speak to, and -life was showing me her seamy, false side. There were occasions on -which a customer went away without making a purchase, when all three -would feel themselves affronted. The master would put his sweet smile -away in his pocket as he said:</p> - -<p>"Kashirin, put these things away." Then he would grumble:</p> - -<p>"There's a pig of a woman The fool found it dull sitting at home, so -she must come and turn our shop upside down! If you were my wife, I'd -give you something!"</p> - -<p>His wife, a dried-up woman with black eyes and a large nose, simply -made a door-mat of him. She used to scold him as if he were a servant.</p> - -<p>Often, after he had shown out a frequent customer with polite bows -and pleasant words, they would all begin to talk about her in a vile -and shameless manner, arousing in me a desire to run into the street -after her and tell her what they said. I knew, of course, that people -generally speak evil of one another behind one another's backs, but -these spoke of every one in a particularly revolting manner, as if they -were in the front rank of good people and had been appointed to judge -the rest of the world. Envious of many of them, they were never known -to praise any one, and knew something bad about everybody.</p> - -<p>One day there came to the shop a young woman with bright, rosy cheeks -and sparkling eyes, attired in a velvet cloak with a collar of black -fur. Her face rose out of the fur like a wonderful flower. When she -had thrown the cloak off her shoulders and handed it to Sascha, she -looked still more beautiful. Her fine figure was fitted tightly with a -blue-gray silk robe; diamonds sparkled in her ears. She reminded me of -"Vassilissa the Beautiful," and I could have believed that she was in -truth the governor's wife. They received her with particular respect, -bending before her as if she were a bright light, and almost choking -themselves in their hurry to get out polite words. All three rushed -about the shop like wild things: their reflections bobbed up and down -in the glass of the cupboard. But when she left, after having bought -some expensive boots in a great hurry, the master, smacking his lips, -whistled and said:</p> - -<p>"Hussy!"</p> - -<p>"An actress—that sums her up," said the assistant, contemptuously. -They began to talk of the lovers of the lady and the luxury in which -she lived.</p> - -<p>After dinner the master went to sleep in the room behind the shop, and -I, opening his gold watch, poured vinegar into the works. It was a -moment of supreme joy to me when he awoke and came into the shop, with -his watch in his hand, muttering wildly:</p> - -<p>"What can have happened? My watch is all wet. I never remember such a -thing happening before. It is all wet; it will be ruined."</p> - -<p>In addition to the burden of my duties in the shop and the housework, I -was weighed down by depression. I often thought it would be a good idea -to behave so badly that I should get my dismissal. Snow-covered people -passed the door of the shop without making a sound. They looked as if -on their way to somebody's funeral. Having meant to accompany the body -to the grave, they had been delayed, and, being late for the funeral -procession, were hurrying to the grave-side. The horses quivered with -the effort of making their way through the snow-drifts. From the belfry -of the church behind the shop the bells rang out with a melancholy -sound every day. It was Lent, and every stroke of the bell fell upon -my brain as if it had been a pillow, not hurting, but stupefying and -deafening, me. One day when I was in the yard unpacking a case of new -goods just received, at the door of the shop, the watchman of the -church, a crooked old man, as soft as if he were made of rags and as -ragged as if he had been torn to pieces by dogs, approached me.</p> - -<p>"Are you going to be kind and steal some goloshes for me?" he asked.</p> - -<p>I was silent. He sat down on an empty case, yawned, made the sign of -the cross over his mouth, and repeated:</p> - -<p>"Will you steal them for me?"</p> - -<p>"It is wrong to steal," I informed him.</p> - -<p>"But people steal all the same. Old age must have its compensations."</p> - -<p>He was pleasantly different from the people among whom I lived. I felt -that he had a firm belief in my readiness to steal, and I agreed to -hand him the goloshes through the window.</p> - -<p>"That's right," he said calmly, without enthusiasm. "You are not -deceiving me? No, I see that you are not."</p> - -<p>He was silent for a moment, trampling the dirty, wet snow with the -soles of his boots. Then he lit a long pipe, and suddenly startled me.</p> - -<p>"But suppose it is I who deceive you? Suppose I take the goloshes to -your master, and tell him that you have sold them to me for half a -ruble? What then? Their price is two rubles, and you have sold them for -half a ruble. As a present, eh?"</p> - -<p>I gazed at him dumbly, as if he had already done what he said he would -do; but he went on talking gently through his nose, looking at his -boots, and blowing out blue smoke.</p> - -<p>"Suppose, for example, that your master has said to me, 'Go and try -that youngster, and see if he is a thief? What then?"</p> - -<p>"I shall not give you the goloshes," I said, angry and frightened.</p> - -<p>"You must give them now that you have promised."</p> - -<p>He took me by the arm and drew me to him, and, tapping my forehead with -his cold fingers, drawled:</p> - -<p>"What are you thinking of, with your 'take this' and 'take that'?"</p> - -<p>"You asked me for them yourself."</p> - -<p>"I might ask you to do lots of things. I might ask you to come and rob -the church. Would you do it? Do you think you can trust everybody? Ah, -you young fool!" He pushed me away from him and stood up.</p> - -<p>"I don't want stolen goloshes. I am not a gentleman, and I don't wear -goloshes. I was only making fun of you. For your simplicity, when -Easter comes, I will let you come up into the belfry and ring the bells -and look at the town."</p> - -<p>"I know the town."</p> - -<p>"It looks better from the belfry."</p> - -<p>Dragging his broken boots in the snow, he went slowly round the corner -of the church, and I looked after him, wondering dejectedly and -fearfully whether the old man had really been making fun of me, or had -been sent by my master to try me. I did not want to go back to the shop.</p> - -<p>Sascha came hurriedly into the yard and shouted: "What the devil has -become of you?"</p> - -<p>I shook my pincers at him in a sudden access of rage. I knew that both -he and the assistant robbed the master. They would hide a pair of boots -or slippers in the stovepipe, and when they left the shop, would slip -them into the sleeves of their overcoats. I did not like this, and felt -alarmed about it, for I remembered the threats of the master.</p> - -<p>"Are you stealing?" I had asked Sascha.</p> - -<p>"Not I, but the assistant," he would explain crossly. "I am only -helping him. He says, 'Do as I tell you,' and I have to obey. If I did -not, he would do me some mischief. As for master, he was an assistant -himself once, and he understands. But you hold your tongue."</p> - -<p>As he spoke, he looked in the glass and set his tie straight with -just such a movement of his naturally spreading fingers as the senior -assistant employed. He was unwearying in his demonstrations of his -seniority and power over me, scolding me in a bass voice, and ordering -me about with threatening gestures. I was taller than he, but bony and -clumsy, while he was compact, flexible, and fleshy. In his frock-coat -and long trousers he seemed an important and substantial figure in my -eyes, and yet there was something ludicrous and unpleasing about him. -He hated the cook, a curious woman, of whom it was impossible to decide -whether she was good or bad.</p> - -<p>"What I love most in the world is a fight," she said, opening wide -her burning black eyes. "I don't care what sort of fight it is, -cock-fights, dog-fights, or fights between men. It is all the same to -me."</p> - -<p>And if she saw cocks or pigeons fighting in the yard, she would throw -aside her work and watch the fight to the end, standing dumb and -motionless at the window. In the evenings she would say to me and -Sascha:</p> - -<p>"Why do you sit there doing nothing, children? You had far better be -fighting."</p> - -<p>This used to make Sascha angry.</p> - -<p>"I am not a child, you fool; I am junior assistant."</p> - -<p>"That does not concern me. In my eyes, while you remain unmarried, you -are a child."</p> - -<p>"Fool! Blockhead!"</p> - -<p>"The devil is clever, but God does not love him."</p> - -<p>Her talk was a special source of irritation to Sascha, and he used to -tease her; but she would look at him contemptuously, askance, and say:</p> - -<p>"Ugh, you beetle! One of God's mistakes!"</p> - -<p>Sometimes he would tell me to rub blacking or soot on her face when she -was asleep, stick pins into her pillow, or play other practical jokes -on her; but I was afraid of her. Besides, she slept very lightly and -used to wake up frequently. Lighting the lamp, she would sit on the -side of her bed, gazing fixedly at something in the corner. Sometimes -she came over to me, where I slept behind the stove, and woke me up, -saying hoarsely:</p> - -<p>"I can't sleep, Leksyeka. I am not very well. Talk to me a little."</p> - -<p>Half asleep, I used to tell her some story, and she would sit without -speaking, swaying from side to side. I had an idea that her hot body -smelt of wax and incense, and that she would soon die. Every moment I -expected to see her fall face downward on the floor and die. In terror -I would begin to speak loudly, but she would check me.</p> - -<p>"'S-sh! You will wake the whole place up, and they will think that you -are my lover."</p> - -<p>She always sat near me in the same attitude, doubled up, with her -wrists between her knees, squeezing them against the sharp bones of her -legs. She had no chest, and even through the thick linen night-dress -her ribs were visible, just like the ribs of a broken cask. After -sitting a long time in silence, she would suddenly whisper:</p> - -<p>"What if I do die, it is a calamity which happens to all." Or she would -ask some invisible person, "Well, I have lived my life, have n't I?"</p> - -<p>"Sleep!" she would say, cutting me short in the middle of a word, and, -straightening herself, would creep noiselessly across the dark kitchen.</p> - -<p>"Witch!" Sascha used to call her behind her back.</p> - -<p>I put the question to him:</p> - -<p>"Why don't you call her that to her face?"</p> - -<p>"Do you think that I am afraid to?" But a second later he said, with a -frown: "No, I can't say it to her face. She may really be a witch."</p> - -<p>Treating every one with the same scornful lack of consideration, she -showed no indulgence to me, but would drag me out of bed at six -o'clock every morning, crying:</p> - -<p>"Are you going to sleep forever? Bring the wood in! Get the samovar -ready! Clean the doorplate!"</p> - -<p>Sascha would wake up and complain:</p> - -<p>"What are you bawling like that for? I will tell the master. You don't -give any one a chance to, sleep."</p> - -<p>Moving quickly about the kitchen with her lean, withered body, she -would flash her blazing, sleepless eyes upon him.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's you, God's mistake? If you were my son, I would give you -something!"</p> - -<p>Sascha would abuse her, calling her "accursed one," and when we were -going to the shop he said to me: "We shall have to do something to get -her sent away. We 'll put salt in everything when she's not looking. -If everything is cooked with too much salt, they will get rid of her. -Or paraffin would do. What are you gaping about?"</p> - -<p>"Why don't you do it yourself?"</p> - -<p>He snorted angrily:</p> - -<p>"Coward!"</p> - -<p>The cook died under our very eyes. She bent down to pick up the -samovar, and suddenly sank to the floor without uttering a word, just -as if some one had given her a blow on the chest. She moved over on her -side, stretched out her arms, and blood trickled from her mouth.</p> - -<p>We both understood in a flash that she was dead, but, stupefied by -terror, we gazed at her a long time without strength to say a word. At -last Sascha rushed headlong out of the kitchen, and I, not knowing what -to do, pressed close to the window in the light. The master came in, -fussily squatted down beside her, and touched her face with his finger.</p> - -<p>"She is dead; that's certain," he said. "What can have caused it?" He -went into the corner where hung a small image of Nikolai Chudovortz -and crossed himself; and when he had prayed he went to the door and -commanded:</p> - -<p>"Kashirin, run quickly and fetch the police!"</p> - -<p>The police came, stamped about, received money for drinks, and went. -They returned later, accompanied by a man with a cart, lifted the cook -by the legs and the head, and carried her into the street. The mistress -stood in the doorway and watched them. Then she said to me:</p> - -<p>"Wash the floor!"</p> - -<p>And the master said:</p> - -<p>"It is a good thing that she died in the evening."</p> - -<p>I could not understand why it was a good thing. When we went to bed -Sascha said to me with unusual gentleness:</p> - -<p>"Don't put out the lamp!"</p> - -<p>"Are you afraid?"</p> - -<p>He covered his head with the blanket, and lay silent a long time. The -night was very quiet, as if it were listening for something, waiting -for something. It seemed to me that the next minute a bell rang out, -and suddenly the whole town was running and shouting in a great -terrified uproar.</p> - -<p>Sascha put his nose out of the blanket and suggested softly:</p> - -<p>"Let's go and lie on the stove together."</p> - -<p>"It is hot there."</p> - -<p>After a silence he said:</p> - -<p>"How suddenly she went off, did n't she? I am sure she was a witch. I -can't get to sleep."</p> - -<p>"Nor I, either."</p> - -<p>He began to tell tales about dead people—how they came out of their -graves and wandered till midnight about the town, seeking the place -where they had lived and looking for their relations.</p> - -<p>"Dead people can only remember the town," he said softly; "but they -forget the streets and houses at once."</p> - -<p>It became quieter and quieter and seemed to be getting darker. Sascha -raised his head and asked:</p> - -<p>"Would you like to see what I have got in my trunk?"</p> - -<p>I had long wanted to know what he hid in his trunk. He kept it locked -with a padlock, and always opened it with peculiar caution. If I tried -to peep he would ask harshly:</p> - -<p>"What do you want, eh?"</p> - -<p>When I agreed, he sat up in bed without putting his feet to the floor, -and ordered me in a tone of authority to bring the trunk to the -bed, and place it at his feet. The key hung round his neck with his -baptismal cross. Glancing round at the dark corners of the kitchen, he -frowned importantly, unfastened the lock, blew on the lid of the trunk -as if it had been hot, and at length, raising it, took out several -linen garments.</p> - -<p>The trunk was half-full of chemist's boxes, packets of variously -colored tea-paper, and tins which had contained blacking or sardines.</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"You shall see."</p> - -<p>He put a foot on each side of the trunk and bent over it, singing -softly:</p> - -<p>"Czaru nebesnui——"</p> - -<p>I expected to see toys. I had never possessed any myself, and pretended -to despise them, but not without a feeling of envy for those who did -possess them. I was very pleased to think that Sascha, such a serious -character, had toys, although he hid them shamefacedly; but I quite -understood his shame.</p> - -<p>Opening the first box, he drew from it the frame of a pair of -spectacles, put them on his nose, and, looking at me sternly, said:</p> - -<p>"It does not matter about there not being any glasses. This is a -special kind of spectacle."</p> - -<p>"Let me look through them."</p> - -<p>"They would not suit your eyes. They are for dark eyes, and yours are -light," he explained, and began to imitate the mistress scolding; but -suddenly he stopped, and looked about the kitchen with an expression of -fear.</p> - -<p>In a blacking tin lay many different kinds of buttons, and he explained -to me with pride:</p> - -<p>"I picked up all these in the street. All by myself! I already have -thirty-seven."</p> - -<p>In the third box was a large brass pin, also found in the street; -hobnails, worn-out, broken, and whole; buckles off shoes and slippers; -brass door-handles, broken bone cane-heads; girls' fancy combs, 'The -Dream Book and Oracle;' and many other things of similar value.</p> - -<p>When I used to collect rags I could have picked up ten times as many -such useless trifles in one month. Sascha's things aroused in me a -feeling of disillusion, of agitation, and painful pity for him. But he -gazed at every single article with great attention, lovingly stroked -them with his fingers, and stuck out his thick lips importantly. His -protruding eyes rested on them affectionately and solicitously; but the -spectacles made his childish face look comical.</p> - -<p>"Why have you kept these things?"</p> - -<p>He flashed a glance at me through the frame of the spectacles, and -asked:</p> - -<p>"Would you like me to give you something?"</p> - -<p>"No; I don't want anything."</p> - -<p>He was obviously offended at the refusal and the poor impression his -riches had made. He was silent a moment; then he suggested quietly:</p> - -<p>"Get a towel and wipe them all; they are covered with dust."</p> - -<p>When the things were all dusted and replaced, he turned over in the -bed, with his face to the wall. The rain was pouring down. It dripped -from the roof, and the wind beat against the window. Without turning -toward me, Sascha said:</p> - -<p>"You wait! When it is dry in the garden I will show you a -thing—something to make you gasp."</p> - -<p>I did not answer, as I was just dropping off to sleep.</p> - -<p>After a few seconds he started up, and began to scrape the wall with -his hands. With quivering earnestness, he said:</p> - -<p>"I am afraid—Lord, I am afraid! Lord, have mercy upon me! What is it?"</p> - -<p>I was numbed by fear at this. I seemed to see the cook standing at the -window which looked on the yard, with her back to me, her head bent, -and her forehead pressed against the glass, just as she used to stand -when she was alive, looking at a cock-fight. Sascha sobbed, and scraped -on the wall. I made a great effort and crossed the kitchen, as if I -were walking on hot coals, without daring to look around, and lay down -beside him. At length, overcome by weariness, we both fell asleep.</p> - -<p>A few days after this there was a holiday. We were in the shop till -midday, had dinner at home, and when the master had gone to sleep after -dinner, Sascha said to me secretly:</p> - -<p>"Come along!"</p> - -<p>I guessed that I was about to see the thing which was to make me gasp. -We went into the garden. On a narrow strip of ground between two houses -stood ten old lime-trees, their stout trunks covered with green lichen, -their black, naked branches sticking up lifelessly, and not one rook's -nest between them. They looked like monuments in a graveyard. There -was nothing besides these trees in the garden; neither bushes nor -grass. The earth on the pathway was trampled and black, and as hard as -iron, and where the bare ground was visible under last year's leaves it -was also flattened, and as smooth as stagnant water.</p> - -<p>Sascha went to a corner of the fence which hid us from the street, -stood under a lime-tree, and, rolling his eyes, glanced at the dirty -windows of the neighboring house. Squatting on his haunches, he turned -over a heap of leaves with his hands, disclosing a thick root, close to -which were placed two bricks deeply embedded in the ground. He lifted -these up, and beneath them appeared a piece of roof iron, and under -this a square board. At length a large hole opened before my eyes, -running under the root of the tree.</p> - -<p>Sascha lit a match and applied it to a small piece of wax candle, which -he held over the hole as he said to me:</p> - -<p>"Look in, only don't be frightened."</p> - -<p>He seemed to be frightened himself. The piece of candle in his hand -shook, and he had turned pale. His lips drooped unpleasantly, his eyes -were moist, and he stealthily put his free hand behind his back. He -infected me with his terror, and I glanced very cautiously into the -depths under the root, which he had made into a vault, in the back of -which he had lit three little tapers that filled the cave with a blue -light. It was fairly broad, though in depth no more than the inside -of a pail. But it was broad, and the sides were closely covered with -pieces of broken glass and broken earthenware. In the center, on an -elevation, covered with a piece of red cloth, stood a little coffin -ornamented with silver paper, half covered with a fragment of material -which looked like a brocaded pall. From beneath this was thrust out a -little gray bird's claw and the sharp-billed head of a sparrow. Behind -the coffin rose a reading-stand, upon which lay a brass baptismal -cross, and around which burned three wax tapers, fixed in candlesticks -made out of gold and silver paper which had been wrapped round sweets.</p> - -<p>The thin flames bowed toward the entrance to the cave. The interior -was faintly bright with many colored gleams and patches of light. The -odor of wax, the warm smell of decay and soil, beat against my face, -made my eyes smart, and conjured up a broken rainbow, which made a -great display of color. All this aroused in me such an overwhelming -astonishment that it dispelled my terror.</p> - -<p>"Is it good?"</p> - -<p>"What is it for?"</p> - -<p>"It is a chapel," he explained. "Is it like one?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"And the sparrow is a dead person. Perhaps there will be relics of him, -because he suffered undeservedly."</p> - -<p>"Did you find him dead?"</p> - -<p>"No. He flew into the shed and I put my cap over him and smothered him."</p> - -<p>"But why?"</p> - -<p>"Because I chose to."</p> - -<p>He looked into my eyes and asked again:</p> - -<p>"Is it good?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>Then he bent over the hole, quickly covered it with the board, pressed -the bricks into the earth with the iron, stood up, and, brushing the -dirt from his knees, asked sternly:</p> - -<p>"Why don't you like it?"</p> - -<p>"I am sorry for the sparrow."</p> - -<p>He stared at me with eyes which were perfectly stationary, like those -of a blind person, and, striking my chest, cried:</p> - -<p>"Fool, it is because you are envious that you say that you do not like -it! I suppose you think that the one in your garden in Kanatnoe Street -was better done."</p> - -<p>I remembered my summer-house, and said with conviction:</p> - -<p>"Certainly it was better."</p> - -<p>Sascha pulled off his coat and threw it on the ground, and, turning up -his sleeves, spat on his hands and said:</p> - -<p>"If that is so, we will fight about it."</p> - -<p>I did not want to fight. My courage was undermined by depression; I -felt uneasy as I looked at the wrathful face of my cousin. He made a -rush at me, struck my chest with his head, and knocked me over. Then he -sat astride of me and cried:</p> - -<p>"Is it to be life or death?"</p> - -<p>But I was stronger than he and very angry. In a few minutes he was -lying face downward with his hands behind his head and a rattling in -his throat. Alarmed, I tried to help him up, but he thrust me away with -his hands and feet. I grew still more alarmed. I went away to one side, -not knowing what else to do, and he raised his head and said:</p> - -<p>"Do you know what you have brought on yourself? I will work things -so that when the master and mistress are not looking I shall have to -complain of you, and then they will dismiss you."</p> - -<p>He went on scolding and threatening me, and his words infuriated me. -I rushed to the cave, took away the stones, and threw the coffin -containing the sparrow over the fence into the street. I dug Out all -the inside of the cave and trampled it under my feet.</p> - -<p>Sascha took my violence strangely. Sitting on the ground, with his -mouth partly covered and his eyebrows drawn together, he watched me, -saying nothing. When I had finished, he stood up without any hurry, -shook out his clothes, threw on his coat, and then said calmly and -ominously:</p> - -<p>"Now you will see what will happen; just wait a little! I arranged all -this for you purposely; it is witchcraft. Aha!"</p> - -<p>I sank down as if his words had physically hurt me, and I felt quite -cold inside. But he went away without glancing back at me, which -accentuated his calmness still more. I made up my mind to run away -from the town the next day, to run away from my master, from Sascha -with his witchcraft, from the whole of that worthless, foolish life.</p> - -<p>The next morning the new cook cried out when she called me:</p> - -<p>"Good gracious! what have you been doing to your face?"</p> - -<p>"The witchcraft is beginning to take effect," I thought, with a sinking -heart.</p> - -<p>But the cook laughed so heartily that I also smiled involuntarily, and -peeped into her glass. My face was thickly smeared with soot.</p> - -<p>"Sascha did this?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Or I," laughed the cook.</p> - -<p>When I began to clean the boots, the first boot into which I put my -hand had a pin in the lining, which ran into my finger.</p> - -<p>"This is his witchcraft!"</p> - -<p>There were pins or needles in all the boots, put in so skilfully that -they always pricked my palm. Then I took a bowl of cold water, and with -great pleasure poured it over the head of the wizard, who was either -not awake or was pretending to sleep.</p> - -<p>But all the same I was miserable. I was always thinking of the coffin -containing the sparrow, with its gray crooked claws and its waxen bill -pathetically sticking upward, and all around the colored gleams which -seemed to be trying unsuccessfully to form themselves into a rainbow. -In my imagination the coffin was enlarged, the claws of the bird grew, -stretched upward quivering, were alive.</p> - -<p>I made up my mind to run away that evening, but in warming up some food -on an oil-stove before dinner I absent-mindedly let it catch fire. -When I was trying to put the flames out, I upset the contents of the -vessel over my hand, and had to be taken to the hospital. I remember -well that oppressive nightmare of the hospital. In what seemed to -be a yellow-gray wilderness there were huddled together, grumbling -and groaning, gray and white figures in shrouds, while a tall man -on crutches, with eyebrows like whiskers, pulled his black beard and -roared:</p> - -<p>"I will report it to his Eminence!"</p> - -<p>The pallet beds reminded me of the coffin, and the patients, lying with -their noses upward, were like dead sparrows. The yellow walls rocked, -the ceiling curved outward like a sail, the floor rose and fell beside -my cot. Everything about the place was hopeless and miserable, and the -twigs of trees tapped against the window like rods in some one's hand.</p> - -<p>At the door there danced a red-haired, thin dead person, drawing his -shroud round him with his thin hands and squeaking:</p> - -<p>"I don't want mad people."</p> - -<p>The man on crutches shouted in his ear:</p> - -<p>"I shall report it to his Eminence!"</p> - -<p>Grandfather, grandmother, and every one had told me that they always -starved people in hospitals, so I looked upon my life as finished. A -woman with glasses, also in a shroud, came to me, and wrote something -on a slate hanging at the head of the bed. The chalk broke and fell all -over me.</p> - -<p>"What is your name?"</p> - -<p>"I have no name."</p> - -<p>"But you must have one."</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Now, don't be silly, or you will be whipped."</p> - -<p>I could well believe that they would whip me; that was why I would -not answer her. She made a hissing sound like a cat, and went out -noiselessly, also like a cat.</p> - -<p>Two lamps were lit. The yellow globes hung down from the ceiling like -two eyes, hanging and winking, dazzled, and trying to get closer -together.</p> - -<p>Some one in the corner said:</p> - -<p>"How can I play without a hand?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, of course; they have cut off your hand."</p> - -<p>I came to the conclusion at once that they cut off a man's hand because -he played at cards! What would they do with me before they starved me?</p> - -<p>My hands burned and smarted just as if some one were pulling the bones -out of them. I cried softly from fright and pain, and shut my eyes so -that the tears should not be seen; but they forced their way through my -eyelids, and, trickling over my temples, fell into my ears.</p> - -<p>The night came. All the inmates threw themselves upon their pallet -beds, and hid themselves under gray blankets. Every minute it became -quieter. Only some one could be heard muttering in a comer, "It is no -use; both he and she are rotters."</p> - -<p>I would have written a letter to grandmother, telling her to come and -steal me from the hospital while I was still alive, but I could not -write; my hands could not be used at all. I would try to find a way of -getting out of the place.</p> - -<p>The silence of the night became more intense every moment, as if it -were going to last forever. Softly putting my feet to the floor, I went -to the double door, half of which was open. In the corridor, under the -lamp, on a wooden bench with a back to it, appeared a gray, bristling -head surrounded by smoke, looking at me with dark, hollow eyes. I had -no time to hide myself.</p> - -<p>"Who is that wandering about? Come here!"</p> - -<p>The voice was not formidable; it was soft. I went to him. I saw a round -face with short hair sticking out round it. On the head the hair was -long and stuck out in all directions like a silver halo, and at the -belt of this person hung a bunch of keys. If his beard and hair had -been longer, he would have looked like the Apostle Peter.</p> - -<p>"You are the one with the burned hands? Why are you wandering about at -night? By whose authority?"</p> - -<p>He blew a lot of smoke at my chest and face, and, putting his warm -hands on my neck, drew me to him.</p> - -<p>"Are you frightened?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Every one is frightened when they come here first, but that is -nothing. And you need not be afraid of me, of all people. I never hurt -any one. Would you like to smoke? No, don't! It is too soon; wait a -year or two. And where are your parents? You have none? Ah, well, you -don't need them; you will be able to get along without them. Only you -must not be afraid, do you see?"</p> - -<p>It was a long time since I had come across any one who spoke to me -simply and kindly in language that I could understand, and it was -inexpressibly pleasant to me to listen to him. When he took me back to -my cot I asked him:</p> - -<p>"Come and sit beside me."</p> - -<p>"All right," he agreed.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?"</p> - -<p>"I? I am a soldier, a real soldier, a Cossack. And I have been in the -wars—well, of course I have! Soldiers live for war. I have fought with -the Hungarians, with the Circassians, and the Poles, as many as you -like. War, my boy, is a great profession."</p> - -<p>I closed my eyes for a minute, and when I opened them, there, in the -place of the soldier, sat grandmother, in a dark frock, and he was -standing by her. She was saying:</p> - -<p>"Dear me! So they are all dead?"</p> - -<p>The sun was playing in the room, now gilding every object, then hiding, -and then looking radiantly upon us all again, just like a child -frolicking.</p> - -<p>Babushka bent over me and asked:</p> - -<p>"What is it, my darling? They have been mutilating you? I told that old -red devil—"</p> - -<p>"I will make all the necessary arrangements," said the soldier, going -away, and grandmother, wiping the tears from her face, said:</p> - -<p>"Our soldier, it seems, comes from Balakhna."</p> - -<p>I still thought that I must be dreaming, and kept silence. The doctor -came, bandaged my burns, and, behold! I was sitting with grandmother in -a cab, and driving through the streets of the town. She told me:</p> - -<p>"That grandfather of ours he is going quite out of his mind, and he is -so greedy that it is sickening to look at him. Not long ago he took -a hundred rubles out of the office-book of Xlist the furrier, a new -friend of his. What a set-out there was! E-h-h-h!"</p> - -<p>The sun shone brightly, and clouds floated in the sky like white birds. -We went by the bridge across the Volga. The ice groaned under us, -water was visible under the planks of the bridge, and the golden cross -gleamed over the red dome of the cathedral in the market-place.</p> - -<p>We met a woman with a broad face. She was carrying an armful of -willow-branches. The spring was coming; soon it would be Easter.</p> - -<p>"I love you very much, Grandmother!"</p> - -<p>This did not seem to surprise her. She answered in a calm voice:</p> - -<p>"That is because we are of the same family. But—and I do not say -it boastfully—there are others who love me, too, thanks to thee, O -Blessed Lady!" She added, smiling:</p> - -<p>"She will soon be rejoicing; her Son will rise again! Ah, Variusha, my -daughter!"</p> - -<p>Then she was silent.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h5> - - -<p>Grandfather met me in the yard; he was on his knees, chopping a wedge -with a hatchet. He raised the ax as if he were going to throw it at my -head, and then took off his cap, saying mockingly: "How do you do, your -Holiness? Your Highness? Have you finished your term of serviced Well, -now you can live as you like, yes. U-ugh! <i>you</i>—"</p> - -<p>"We know all about it, we know all about it!" said grandmother, hastily -waving him away, and when she went into her room to get the samovar -ready she told me:</p> - -<p>"Grandfather is fairly ruined now. What money there was he lent at -interest to his godson Nikolai, but he never got a receipt for it. -I don't quite know yet how they stand, but he is ruined; the money -is lost. And all this because we have not helped the poor or had -compassion on the unfortunate. God has said to Himself, 'Why should I -do good to the Kashirins?' and so He has taken everything from us." -Looking round, she went on:</p> - -<p>"I have been trying to soften the heart of the Lord toward us a little, -so that He may not press too hardly on the old man, and I have begun -to give a little in charity, secretly and at night, from what I have -earned. You can come with me to-day if you like. I have some money—"</p> - -<p>Grandfather came in blinking and asked:</p> - -<p>"Are you going to have a snack?"</p> - -<p>"It is not yours," said grandmother. "However, you can sit down with us -if you like; there's enough for you."</p> - -<p>He sat down at the table, murmuring:</p> - -<p>"Pour out—"</p> - -<p>Everything in the room was in its old place. Only my mother's corner -was sadly empty, and on the wall over grandfather's bed hung a sheet of -paper on which was inscribed in large, printed letters:</p> - -<p>"Jesus save, Life of the world! May Thy holy name be with me all the -days and hours of my life!"</p> - -<p>"Who wrote that?"</p> - -<p>Grandfather did not reply, and grandmother, waiting a little, said with -a smile:</p> - -<p>"The price of that paper is—a hundred rubles!"</p> - -<p>"That is not your business!" cried grandfather. "I give away everything -to others."</p> - -<p>"It is all right to give now, but time was when you did not give," said -grandmother, calmly.</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue!" he shrieked.</p> - -<p>This was all as it should be, just like old times.</p> - -<p>In the corner, on a box, in a wicker basket, Kolia woke up and looked -out, his blue, washed-out eyes hardly visible under their lids. He was -grayer, more faded and fragile-looking, than ever. He did not recognize -me, and, turning away in silence, closed his eyes. Sad news awaited me -in the street. Viakhir was dead. He had breathed his last in Passion -Week. Khabi had gone away to live in town. Yaz's feet had been taken -off, and he would walk no more.</p> - -<p>As he was giving me this information, black-eyed Kostrom said angrily:</p> - -<p>"Boys soon die!"</p> - -<p>"Well, but only Viakhir is dead."</p> - -<p>"It is the same thing. Whoever leaves the streets is as good as dead. -No sooner do we make friends, get used to our comrades, than they -either are sent into the town to work or they die. There are new -people living in your yard at Chesnokov's; Evsyenki is their name. The -boy, Niushka, is nothing out of the ordinary. He has two sisters, one -still small, and the other lame. She goes about on crutches; she is -beautiful!"</p> - -<p>After thinking a moment he added:</p> - -<p>"Tchurka and I are both in love with her, and quarrel."</p> - -<p>"With her?"</p> - -<p>"Why with her? Between ourselves. With her—very seldom."</p> - -<p>Of course I knew that big lads and even men fell in love. I was -familiar also with coarse ideas on this subject. I felt uncomfortable, -sorry for Kostrom, and reluctant to look at his angular figure and -angry, black eyes.</p> - -<p>I saw the lame girl on the evening of the same day. Coming down the -steps into the yard, she let her crutch fall, and stood helplessly -on the step, holding on to the balustrade with her transparent, thin, -fragile hands. I tried to pick up the crutch, but my bandaged hands -were not much use, and I had a lot of trouble and vexation in doing it. -Meanwhile she, standing above me, and laughing gently, watched me.</p> - -<p>"What have you done to your hands?" she said.</p> - -<p>"Scalded them."</p> - -<p>"And I—am a cripple. Do you belong to this yard? Were you long in the -hospital? I was there a lo-o-ong time." She added, with a sigh, "A very -long time."</p> - -<p>She had a white dress and light blue overshoes, old, but clean; her -smoothly brushed hair fell across her breast in a thick, short plait. -Her eyes were large and serious; in their quiet depths burned a blue -light which lit up the pale, sharp-nosed face. She smiled pleasantly, -but I did not care about her. Her sickly figure seemed to say, "Please -don't touch me!" How could my friends be in love with her?</p> - -<p>"I have been lame a long time," she told me, willingly and almost -boastfully. "A neighbor bewitched me; she had a quarrel with mother, -and then bewitched me out of spite. Were you frightened in the -hospital?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>I felt awkward with her, and went indoors.</p> - -<p>About midnight grandmother tenderly awoke me.</p> - -<p>"Are you coming? If you do something for other people, your hand will -soon be well."</p> - -<p>She took my arm and led me in the dark, as if I had been blind. It was -a black, damp night; the wind blew continuously, making the river flow -more swiftly and blowing the cold sand against my legs. Grandmother -cautiously approached the darkened windows of the poor little houses, -crossed herself three times, laid a five-copeck piece and three -cracknel biscuits on the window-sills, and crossed herself again. -Glancing up into the starless sky, she whispered:</p> - -<p>"Holy Queen of Heaven, help these people! We are all sinners in thy -sight, Mother dear."</p> - -<p>Now, the farther we went from home, the denser and more intense -the darkness and silence became. The night sky was pitch black, -unfathomable, as if the moon and stars had disappeared forever. A dog -sprang out from somewhere and growled at us. His eyes gleamed in the -darkness, and I cravenly pressed close to grandmother.</p> - -<p>"It is all right," she said; "it is only a dog. It is too late for the -devil; the cocks have already begun to crow."</p> - -<p>Enticing the dog to her, she stroked it and admonished it:</p> - -<p>"Look here, doggie, you must not frighten my grandson."</p> - -<p>The dog rubbed itself against my legs, and the three of us went on. -Twelve times did grandmother place "secret alms" on a window-sill. It -began to grow light: gray houses appeared out of the darkness; the -belfry of Napolni Church rose up white like a piece of sugar; the brick -wall of the cemetery seemed to become transparent.</p> - -<p>"The old woman is tired," said grandmother; "it is time we went home. -When the women wake up they will find that Our Lady has provided a -little for their children. When there is never enough, a very little -comes in useful. O Olesha, our people live so poorly and no one -troubles about them!</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"The rich man about God never thinks;<br /> -Of the terrible judgment he does not dream;<br /> -The poor man is to him neither friend nor brother;<br /> -All he cares about is getting gold together.<br /> -But that gold will be coal in hell!<br /> -</p> - -<p>"That's how it is. But we ought to live for one another, while God is -for us all. I am glad to have you with me again."</p> - -<p>And I, too, was calmly happy, feeling in a confused way that I had -taken part in something which I should never forget. Close to me -shivered the brown dog, with its bare muzzle and kind eyes which seemed -to be begging forgiveness.</p> - -<p>"Will it live with us?"</p> - -<p>"What? It can, if it likes. Here, I will give it a cracknel biscuit. I -have two left. Let us sit down on this bench. I am so tired."</p> - -<p>We sat down on a bench by a gate, and the dog lay at our feet, eating -the dry cracknel, while grandmother informed me:</p> - -<p>"There's a Jewess living here; she has about ten servants, more or -less. I asked her, 'Do you live by the law of Moses?' But she answered, -'I live as if God were with me and mine; how else should I live?'"</p> - -<p>I leaned against the warm body of grandmother and fell asleep.</p> - -<p>*</p> - -<p>Once more my life flowed on swiftly and full of interest, with a broad -stream of impressions bringing something new to my soul every day, -stirring it to enthusiasm, disturbing it, or causing me pain, but -at any rate forcing me to think. Before long I also was using every -means in my power to meet the lame girl, and I would sit with her on -the bench by the gate, either talking or in silence. It was pleasant -to be silent in her company. She was very neat, and had a voice like -a singing bird. She used to tell me prettily of the way the Cossacks -lived on the Don, where she had lived with her uncle, who was employed -in some oil-works. Then her father, a locksmith, had gone to live at -Nijni. "And I have another uncle who serves the czar himself."</p> - -<p>In the evenings of Sundays and festivals all the inhabitants of the -street used to stand "at the gate." The boys and girls went to the -cemetery, the men to the taverns, and the women and children remained -in the street. The women sat at the gate on the sand or on a small -bench.</p> - -<p>The children used to play at a sort of tennis, at skittles, and at -<i>sharmazl.</i> The mothers watched the games, encouraging the skilful -ones and laughing at the bad players. It was deafeningly noisy and gay. -The presence and attention of the "grown-ups" stimulated us; the merest -trifles brought into our games extra animation and passionate rivalry. -But it seemed that we three, Kostrom, Tchurka, and I, were not so taken -up with the game that we had not time, one or the other of us, to run -and show off before the lame girl.</p> - -<p>"Ludmilla, did you see that I knocked down five of the ninepins in that -game of skittles?"</p> - -<p>She would smile sweetly, tossing her head.</p> - -<p>In old times our little company had always tried to be on the same side -in games, but now I saw that Kostrom and Tchurka used to take opposite -sides, trying to rival each other in all kinds of trials of skill and -strength, often aggravating each other to tears and fights. One day -they fought so fiercely that the adults had to interfere, and they had -to pour water over the combatants, as if they were dogs. Ludmilla, -sitting on a bench, stamped her sound foot on the ground, and when the -fighters rolled toward her, pushed them away with her crutch, crying in -a voice of fear:</p> - -<p>"Leave off!"</p> - -<p>Her face was white, almost livid; her eyes blazed and rolled like a -person possessed with a devil.</p> - -<p>Another time Kostrom, shamefully beaten by Tchurka in a game of -skittles, hid himself behind a chest of oats in the grocer's shop, -and crouched there, weeping silently. It was terrible to see him. -His teeth were tightly clenched, his cheek-bones stood out, his bony -face looked as if it had been turned to stone, and from his black, -surly eyes flowed large, round tears. When I tried to console him he -whispered, choking back his tears:</p> - -<p>"You wait! I'll throw a brick at his head. You'll see."</p> - -<p>Tchurka had become conceited; he walked in the middle of the street, -as marriageable youths walk, with his cap on one side and his hands in -his pocket. He had taught himself to spit through his teeth like a fine -bold fellow, and he promised:</p> - -<p>"I shall learn to smoke soon. I have already tried twice, but I was -sick."</p> - -<p>All this was displeasing to me. I saw that I was losing my friends, and -it seemed to me that the person to blame was Ludmilla. One evening when -I was in the yard going over the collection of bones and rags and all -kinds of rubbish, she came to me, swaying from side to side and waving -her right hand.</p> - -<p>"How do you do?" she said, bowing her head three times. "Has Kostrom -been with you? And Tchurka?"</p> - -<p>"Tchurka is not friends with us now. It is all your fault. They are -both in love with you and they have quarreled."</p> - -<p>She blushed, but answered mockingly:</p> - -<p>"What next! How is it my fault?"</p> - -<p>"Why do you make them fall in love with you?"</p> - -<p>"I did not ask them to," she said crossly, and as she went away she -added: "It is all nonsense. I am older than they are; I am fourteen. -People do not fall in love with big girls."</p> - -<p>"A lot you know!" I cried, wishing to hurt her. "What about the -shopkeeper, Xlistov's sister? She is quite old, and still she has the -boys after her."</p> - -<p>Ludmilla turned on me, sticking her crutch deep into the sand of the -yard.</p> - -<p>"You don't know anything yourself," she said quickly, with tears in her -voice and her pretty eyes flashing finely. "That shopkeeper is a bad -woman, and I—what am I? I am still a little girl; and—but you ought -to read that novel, 'Kamchadalka," the second part, and then you would -have something to talk about."</p> - -<p>She went away sobbing. I felt sorry for her. In her words was the ring -of a truth of which I was ignorant. Why had she embroiled my comrades? -But they were in love; what else was there to say?</p> - -<p>The next day, wishing to smooth over my difference with Ludmilla, I -bought some barley sugar, her favorite sweet, as I knew well.</p> - -<p>"Would you like some?"</p> - -<p>She said fiercely:</p> - -<p>"Go away! I am not friends with you!" But presently she took the barley -sugar, observing: "You might have had it wrapped up in paper. Your -hands are so dirty!"</p> - -<p>"I have washed them, but it won't come off."</p> - -<p>She took my hand in her dry, hot hand and looked at it.</p> - -<p>"How you have spoiled it!"</p> - -<p>"Well, but yours are roughened."</p> - -<p>"That is done by my needle. I do a lot of sewing." After a few minutes -she suggested, looking round: "I say, let's hide ourselves somewhere -and read 'Kamchadalka.' Would you like it?"</p> - -<p>We were a long time finding a place to hide in, for every place -seemed uncomfortable. At length we decided that the best place was -the wash-house. It was dark there, but we could sit at the window, -which overlooked a dirty corner between the shed and the neighboring -slaughter-house. People hardly ever looked that way. There she used -to sit sidewise to the window, with her bad foot on a stool and the -sound one resting on the floor, and, hiding her face with the torn -book, nervously pronounced many unintelligible and dull words. But I -was stirred. Sitting on the floor, I could see how the grave eyes with -the two pale-blue flames moved across the pages of the book. Sometimes -they were filled with tears, and the girl's voice trembled as she -quickly uttered the unfamiliar words, running them into one another -unintelligibly. However, I grasped some of these words, and tried to -make them into verse, turning them about in all sorts of ways, which -effectually prevented me from understanding what the book said.</p> - -<p>On my knees slumbered the dog, which I had named "Wind," because he -was rough and long, swift in running, and howled like the autumn wind -down the chimney.</p> - -<p>"Are you listening?" the girl would ask. I nodded my head.</p> - -<p>The mixing up of the words excited me more and more, and my desire to -arrange them as they would sound in a song, in which each word lives -and shines like a star in the sky, became more insistent. When it grew -dark Ludmilla would let her pale hand fall on the book and ask:</p> - -<p>"Isn't it good? You will see."</p> - -<p>After the first evening we often sat in the washhouse. Ludmilla, to -my joy, soon gave up reading "Kamchadalka." I could not answer her -questions about what she had read from that endless book—endless, for -there was a third book after the second part which we had begun to -read, and the girl said there was a fourth. What we liked best was a -rainy day, unless it fell on a Saturday, when the bath was heated. The -rain drenched the yard. No one came out or looked at us in our dark -comer. Ludmilla was in great fear that they would discover us.</p> - -<p>I also was afraid that we should be discovered. We used to sit for -hours at a time, talking about one thing and another. Sometimes I told -her some of grandmother's tales, and Ludmilla told me about the lives -of the Kazsakas, on the River Medvyedietz.</p> - -<p>"How lovely it was there!" she would sigh. "Here, what is it? Only -beggars live here."</p> - -<p>Soon we had no need to go to the wash-house. Ludmilla's mother found -work with a fur-dresser, and left the house the first thing in the -morning. Her sister was at school, and her brother worked at a tile -factory. On wet days I went to the girl and helped her to cook, and to -clean the sitting-room and kitchen. She said laughingly:</p> - -<p>"We live together—just like a husband and wife. In fact, we live -better; a husband does not help his wife."</p> - -<p>If I had money, I bought some cakes, and we had tea, afterward cooling -the samovar with cold water, lest the scolding mother of Ludmilla -should guess that it had been heated. Sometimes grandmother came to see -us, and sat down, making lace, sewing, or telling us wonderful stories, -and when grandfather went to the town, Ludmilla used to come to us, and -we feasted without a care in the world.</p> - -<p>Grandmother said:</p> - -<p>"Oh, how happily we live! With our own money we can do what we like."</p> - -<p>She encouraged our friendship.</p> - -<p>"It is a good thing when a boy and girl are friends. Only there must -be no tricks," and she explained in the simplest words what she meant -by "tricks." She spoke beautifully, as one inspired, and made me -understand thoroughly that it is wrong to pluck the flower before it -opens, for then it will have neither fragrance nor fruit.</p> - -<p>We had no inclination for "tricks," but that did not hinder Ludmilla -and me from speaking of that subject, on which one is supposed to be -silent. Such subjects of conversation were in a way forced upon us -because the relationship of the sexes was so often and tiresomely -brought to our notice in their coarsest form, and was very offensive to -us.</p> - -<p>Ludmilla's father was a handsome man of forty, curly-headed and -whiskered, and had an extremely masterful way of moving his eyebrows. -He was strangely silent; I do not remember one word uttered by him. -When he caressed his children he uttered unintelligible sounds, like a -dumb person, and even when he beat his wife he did it in silence.</p> - -<p>On the evenings of Sundays and festivals, attired in a light-blue -shirt, with wide plush trousers and highly polished boots, he would go -out to the gate with a harmonica slung with straps behind his back, -and stand there exactly like a soldier doing sentry duty. Presently -a sort of "promenade" would begin past our gate. One after the other -girls and women would pass, glancing at Evsyenko furtively from under -their eyelashes, or quite openly, while he stood sticking out his lower -lip, and also looking with discriminating glances from, his dark eyes. -There was something repugnantly dog-like in this silent conversation -with the eyes alone, and from the slow, rapt movement of the women as -they passed it seemed as if the chosen one, at an imperious flicker of -the man's eyelid, would humbly sink to the dirty ground as if she were -killed.</p> - -<p>"Tipsy brute! Brazen face!" grumbled Ludmilla's mother. She was a tall, -thin woman, with a long face and a bad-complexion, and hair which had -been cut short after typhus. She was like a worn-out broom.</p> - -<p>Ludmilla sat beside her, unsuccessfully trying to turn her attention -from the street by asking questions about one thing and another.</p> - -<p>"Stop it, you monster!" muttered the mother, blinking restlessly. Her -narrow Mongol eyes were strangely bright and immovable, always fixed on -something and always stationary.</p> - -<p>"Don't be angry, Mamochka; it doesn't matter," Ludmilla would say. -"Just look how the mat-maker's widow is dressed up!"</p> - -<p>"I should be able to dress better if it were not for you three. You -have eaten me up, devoured me," said the mother, pitilessly through her -tears, fixing her eyes on the large, broad figure of the mat-maker's -widow.</p> - -<p>She was like a small house. Her chest stuck out like the roof, and her -red face, half hidden by the green handkerchief which was tied round -it, was like a dormer-window when the sun is reflected on it. Evsyenko, -drawing his harmonica to his chest, began to play. The harmonica played -many tunes; the sounds traveled a long way, and the children came -from all the street around, and fell in the sand at the feet of the -performer, trembling with ecstasy.</p> - -<p>"You wait; I'll give you something!" the woman promised her husband.</p> - -<p>He looked at her askance, without speaking. And the mat-maker's widow -sat not far off on the Xlistov's bench, listening intently.</p> - -<p>In the field behind the cemetery the sunset was red. In the street, -as on a river, floated brightly clothed, great pieces of flesh. The -children rushed along like a whirlwind; the warm air was caressing and -intoxicating. A pungent odor rose from the sand, which had been made -hot by the sun during the day, and peculiarly noticeable was a fat, -sweet smell from the slaughter-house—the smell of blood. From the yard -where the fur-dresser lived came the salt and bitter odor of tanning. -The women's chatter, the drunken roar of the men, the bell-like voices -of the children, the bass melody of the harmonica—all mingled together -in one deep rumble. The earth, which is ever, creating, gave a mighty -sigh. All was coarse and naked, but it instilled a great, deep faith -in that gloomy life, so shamelessly animal. At times above the noise -certain painful, never-to-be-forgotten words went straight to one's -heart:</p> - -<p>"It is not right for you all together to set upon one. You must take -turns." "Who pities us when we do not pity ourselves?" "Did God bring -women into the world in order to deride them?"</p> - -<p>The night drew near, the air became fresher, the sounds became more -subdued. The wooden houses seemed to swell and grow taller, clothing -themselves with shadows. The children were dragged away from the yard -to bed. Some of them were already asleep by the fence or at the feet -or on the knees of their mothers. Most of the children grew quieter and -more docile with the night. Evsyenko disappeared unnoticed; he seemed -to have melted away. The mat-maker's widow was also missing. The bass -notes of the harmonica could be heard somewhere in the distance, beyond -the cemetery. Ludmilla's mother sat on a bench doubled up, with her -back stuck out like a cat. My grandmother had gone out to take tea with -a neighbor, a midwife, a great fat woman with a nose like a duck's, -and a gold medal "for saving lives" on her flat, masculine-looking -chest. The whole street feared her, regarding her as a witch, and it -was related of her that she had carried out of the flames, when a fire -broke out, the three children and sick wife of a certain colonel. There -was a friendship between grandmother and her. When they met in the -street they used to smile at each other from a long way off, as if they -had seen something specially pleasant.</p> - -<p>Kostrom, Ludmilla, and I sat on the bench at the gate. Tchurka had -called upon Ludmilla's brother to wrestle with him. Locked in each -other's arms they trampled down the sand and became angry.</p> - -<p>"Leave off!" cried Ludmilla, timorously.</p> - -<p>Looking at her sidewise out of his black eyes, Kostrom told a story -about the hunter Kalinin, a grayhaired old man with cunning eyes, a man -of evil fame, known to all the village. He had not long been dead, but -they had not buried him in the earth in the graveyard, but had placed -his coffin above ground, away from the other graves. The coffin was -black, on tall trestles; on the lid were drawn in white paint a cross, -a spear, a reed, and two bones. Every night, as soon as it grew dark, -the old man rose from his coffin and walked about the cemetery, looking -for something, till the first cock crowed.</p> - -<p>"Don't talk about such dreadful things!" begged Ludmilla.</p> - -<p>"Nonsense!" cried Tchurka, breaking away from her brother. "What are -you telling lies for? I saw them bury the coffin myself, and the one -above ground is simply a monument. As to a dead man walking about, the -drunken blacksmith set the idea afloat." Kostrom, without looking at -him, suggested:</p> - -<p>"Go and sleep in the cemetery; then you will see." They began to -quarrel, and Ludmilla, shaking her head sadly, asked:</p> - -<p>"Mamochka, do dead people walk about at night?" "They do," answered her -mother, as if the question had called her back from a distance.</p> - -<p>The son of the shopkeeper Valek, a tall, stout, red-faced youth of -twenty, came to us, and, hearing what we were disputing about, said:</p> - -<p>"I will give three <i>greven</i> and ten cigarettes to whichever of you -three will sleep till daylight on the coffin, and I will pull the ears -of the one who is afraid—as long as he likes. Well?"</p> - -<p>We were all silent, confused, and Ludmilla's mother said:</p> - -<p>"What nonsense! What do you mean by putting the children up to such -nonsense?"</p> - -<p>"You hand over a ruble, and I will go," announced Tchurka, gruffly.</p> - -<p>Kostrom at once asked spitefully:</p> - -<p>"But for two <i>greven</i>—you would be afraid?" Then he said to Valek: -"Give him the ruble. But he won't go; he is only making believe."</p> - -<p>"Well, take the ruble."</p> - -<p>Tchurka rose, and, without saying a word and without hurrying, went -away, keeping close to the fence. Kostrom, putting his fingers in his -mouth, whistled piercingly after him.; but Ludmilla said uneasily:</p> - -<p>"O Lord, what a braggart he is! I never!"</p> - -<p>"Where are you going, coward?" jeered Valek. "And you call yourself -the first fighter in the street!" It was offensive to listen to his -jeers. We did not like this overfed youth; he was always putting up -little boys to do wrong, told them obscene stories of girls and women, -and taught them to tease them. The children did what he told them, -and suffered dearly for it. For some reason or other he hated my dog, -and used to throw stones at it, and one day gave it some bread with -a needle in it. But it was still more offensive to see Tchurka going -away, shrinking and ashamed.</p> - -<p>I said to Valek:</p> - -<p>"Give me the ruble, and I will go."</p> - -<p>Mocking me and trying to frighten me, he held out the ruble to -Ludmilla's mother, who would not take it, and said sternly:</p> - -<p>"I don't want it, and I won't have it!" Then she went out angrily.</p> - -<p>Ludmilla also could not make up her mind to take the money, and this -made Valek jeer the more. I was going away without obtaining the money -when grandmother came along" and, being told all about it, took the -ruble, saying to me softly:</p> - -<p>"Put on your overcoat and take a blanket with you, for it grows cold -toward morning."</p> - -<p>Her words raised my hopes that nothing terrible would happen to me.</p> - -<p>Valek laid it down on a condition that I should either lie or sit on -the coffin until it was light, not leaving it, whatever happened, even -if the coffin shook when the old man Kalinin began to climb out of the -tomb. If I jumped to the ground I had lost.</p> - -<p>"And remember," said Valek, "that I shall be watching you all night."</p> - -<p>When I set out for the cemetery grandmother made the sign of the cross -over me and kissed me.</p> - -<p>"If you should see a glimpse of anything, don't move, but just say, -'Hail, Mary.'"</p> - -<p>I went along quickly, my one desire being to begin and finish the -whole thing. Valek, Kostrom, and another youth escorted me thither. As -I was getting over the brick wall I got mixed up in the blanket, and -fell down, but was up in the same moment, as if the earth had ejected -me. There was a chuckle from the other side of the wall. My heart -contracted; a cold chill ran down my back.</p> - -<p>I went stumblingly on to the black coffin, against one side of which -the sand had drifted, while on the other side could be seen the short, -thick legs. It looked as if some one had tried to lift it up, and had -succeeded only in making it totter. I sat on the edge of the coffin and -looked around. The hilly cemetery was simply packed with gray crosses; -quivering shadows fell upon the graves.</p> - -<p>Here and there, scattered among the graves, slender willows stood up, -uniting adjoining graves with their branches. Through the lace-work of -their shadows blades of grass stuck up.</p> - -<p>The church rose up in the sky like a snow-drift, and in the motionless -clouds shone the small setting moon.</p> - -<p>The father of Yaz, "the good-for-nothing peasant," was lazily ringing -his bell in his lodge. Each time, as he pulled the string, it caught in -the iron plate of the roof and squeaked pitifully, after which could -be heard the metallic clang of the little bell. It sounded sharp and -sorrowful.</p> - -<p>"God give us rest!" I remembered the saying of the watchman. It was -very painful and somehow it was suffocating. I was perspiring freely -although the night was cool. Should I have time to run into the -watchman's lodge if old Kalinin really did try to creep out of his -grave?</p> - -<p>I was well acquainted with the cemetery. I had played among the graves -many times with Yaz and other comrades. Over there by the church my -mother was buried.</p> - -<p>Every one was not asleep yet, for snatches of laughter and fragments -of songs were borne to me from the village. Either on the railway -embankment, to which they were carrying sand, or in the village of -Katizovka a harmonica gave forth a strangled sound. Along the wall, as -usual, went the drunken blacksmith Myachov, singing. I recognized him -by his song:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"To our mother's door<br /> -One small sin we lay.<br /> -The only one she loves<br /> -Is our Papasha."<br /> -</p> - -<p>It was pleasant to listen to the last sighs of life, but at each stroke -of the bell it became quieter, and the quietness overflowed like a -river over a meadow, drowning and hiding everything. One's soul seemed -to float in boundless and unfathomable space, to be extinguished -like the light of a catch in the darkness, becoming dissolved -without leaving a trace in that ocean of space in which live only -the unattainable stars, shining brightly, while everything on earth -disappears as being useless and dead. Wrapping myself in the blanket, -I sat on the coffin, with my feet tucked under me and my face to the -church. Whenever I moved, the coffin squeaked, and the sand under it -crunched.</p> - -<p>Something twice struck the ground close to me, and then a piece of -brick fell near by. I was frightened, but then I guessed that Valek -and his friends were throwing things at me from the other side of the -wall, trying to scare me. But I felt all the better for the proximity -of human creatures.</p> - -<p>I began unwillingly to think of my mother. Once she had found me trying -to smoke a cigarette. She began to beat me, but I said:</p> - -<p>"Don't touch me; I feel bad enough without that. I feel very sick."</p> - -<p>Afterward, when I was put behind the stove as a punishment, she said to -grandmother:</p> - -<p>"That boy has no feeling; he does n't love any one." It hurt me to -hear that. When my mother punished me I was sorry for her. I felt -uncomfortable for her sake, because she seldom punished me deservedly -or justly. On the whole, I had received a great deal of ill treatment -in my life. Those people on the other side of the fence, for example, -must know that I was frightened of being alone in the cemetery, yet -they wanted to frighten me more. Why?</p> - -<p>I should like to have shouted to them, "Go to the devil!" but that -might have been disastrous. Who knew what the devil would think of it, -for no doubt he was somewhere near? There was a lot of mica in the -sand, and it gleamed faintly in the moonlight, which reminded me how, -lying one day on a raft on the Oka, gazing into the water, a bream -suddenly swam almost in my face, turned on its side, looking like a -human cheek, and, looking at me with its round, bird-like eyes, dived -to the bottom, fluttering like a leaf falling from a maple-tree.</p> - -<p>My memory worked with increasing effort, recalling different episodes -of my life, as if it were striving to protect itself against the -imaginations evoked by terror.</p> - -<p>A hedgehog came rolling along, tapping on the sand with its strong -paws. It reminded me of a hobgoblin; it was just as little and as -disheveled-looking.</p> - -<p>I remembered how grandmother, squatting down beside the stove, said, -"Kind master of the house, take away the beetles."</p> - -<p>Far away over the town, which I could not see, it grew lighter. The -cold morning air blew against my cheeks and into my eyes. I wrapped -myself in my blanket. Let come what would!</p> - -<p>Grandmother awoke me. Standing beside me and pulling off the blanket, -she said:</p> - -<p>"Get up! Aren't you chilled? Well, were you frightened?"</p> - -<p>"I was frightened, but don't tell any one; don't tell the other boys."</p> - -<p>"But why not?" she asked in amazement. "If you were not afraid, you -have nothing to be proud about."</p> - -<p>As he went home she said to me gently:</p> - -<p>"You have to experience things for yourself in this world, dear heart. -If you can't teach yourself, no one else can teach you."</p> - -<p>By the evening I was the "hero" of the street, and every one asked me, -"Is it possible that you were not afraid?" And when I answered, "I was -afraid," they shook their heads and exclaimed, "Aha! you see!"</p> - -<p>The shopkeeper went about saying loudly:</p> - -<p>"It may be that they talked nonsense when they said that Kalinin -walked. But if he did, do you think he would have frightened that boy? -No, he would have driven him out of the cemetery, and no one would know -where he went."</p> - -<p>Ludmilla looked at me with tender astonishment. Even grandfather was -obviously pleased with me. They all made much of me. Only Tchurka said -gruffly:</p> - -<p>"It was easy enough for him; his grandmother is a witch!"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h5> - - -<p>Imperceptibly, like a little star at dawn, my brother Kolia faded away. -Grandmother, he, and I slept in a small shed on planks covered with -various rags. On the other side of the chinky wall of the outhouse -was the family poultry-house. We could hear the sleepy, overfed fowls -fluttering and clucking in the evening, and the golden, shrill-voiced -cock awoke us in the morning.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I should like to tear you to pieces!" grandmother would grumble -when they woke her.</p> - -<p>I was already awake, watching the sunbeams falling through the chinks -upon my bed, and the silver specks of dust which danced in them. These -little specks seemed to me just like the words in a fairy-tale. Mice -had gnawed the planks, and red beetles with black spots ran about there.</p> - -<p>Sometimes, to escape from the stifling fumes which arose from the -soil in the fowl-house, I crept out of the wooden hut, climbed to the -roof, and watched the people of the house waking up, eyeless, large, -and swollen with sleep. Here appeared the hairy noddle of the boatman -Phermanov, a surly drunkard, who gazed at the sun with blear, running -eyes and grunted like a bear. Then grandfather came hurrying out into -the yard and hastened to the wash-house to wash himself in cold water. -The garrulous cook of the landlord, a sharp-nosed woman, thickly -covered with freckles, was like a cuckoo. The landlord himself was like -an old fat dove. In fact, they were all like some bird, animal, or wild -beast.</p> - -<p>Although the morning was so pleasant and bright, it made me feel sad, -and I wanted to get away into the fields where no one came, for I had -already learned that human creatures always spoil a bright day.</p> - -<p>One day when I was lying on the roof grandmother called me, and said in -a low voice, shaking her head as she lay on her bed:</p> - -<p>"Kolia is dead."</p> - -<p>The little boy had slipped from the pillow, and lay livid, lanky on -the felt cover. His night-shirt had worked itself up round his neck, -leaving bare his swollen stomach and crooked legs. His hands were -curiously folded behind his back, as if he had been trying to lift -himself up. His head was bent on one side.</p> - -<p>"Thank God he has gone!" said grandmother as she did her hair. "What -would have become of the poor little wretch had he lived?"</p> - -<p>Treading almost as if he were dancing, grandfather made his appearance, -and cautiously touched the closed eyes of the child with his fingers.</p> - -<p>Grandmother asked him angrily:</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by touching him with unwashen hands?"</p> - -<p>He muttered:</p> - -<p>"There you are! He gets born, lives, and eats, and all for nothing."</p> - -<p>"You are half asleep," grandmother cut him short.</p> - -<p>He looked at her vacantly, and went out in the yard, saying:</p> - -<p>"I am not going to give him a funeral; you can do what you like about -it."</p> - -<p>"Phoo! you miserable creature!"</p> - -<p>I went out, and did not return until it was close upon evening. They -buried Kolia on the morning of the following day, and during the mass I -sat by the reopened grave with my dog and Yaz's father. He had dug the -grave cheaply, and kept praising himself for it before my face.</p> - -<p>"I have only done this out of friendship; for any one else I should -have charged so many rubles."</p> - -<p>Looking into the yellow pit, from which arose a heavy odor, I saw some -moist black planks at one side. At my slightest movement the heaps of -sand around the grave fell to the bottom in a thin stream, leaving -wrinkles in the sides. I moved on purpose, so that the sand would hide -those boards.</p> - -<p>"No larks now!" said Yaz's father, as he smoked.</p> - -<p>Grandmother carried out the little coffin. The "trashy peasant" sprang -into the hole, took the coffin from her, placed it beside the black -boards, and, jumping out of the grave, began to hurl the earth into it -with his feet and his spade. Grandfather and grandmother also helped -him in silence. There were neither priests nor beggars there; only we -four amid a dense crowd of crosses. As she gave the sexton his money, -grandmother said reproachfully:</p> - -<p>"But you have disturbed Varina's coffin."</p> - -<p>"What else could I do? If I had not done that, I should have had to -take some one else's piece of ground. But there's nothing to worry -about."</p> - -<p>Grandmother prostrated herself on the grave, sobbed and groaned, and -went away, followed by grandfather, his eyes hidden by the peak of his -cap, clutching at his worn coat.</p> - -<p>"They have sown the seed in unplowed ground," he said suddenly, running -along in front, just like a crow on the plowed field.</p> - -<p>"What does he mean?" I asked grandmother. "God bless him! He has his -thoughts," she answered.</p> - -<p>It was hot. Grandmother went heavily; her feet sank in the warm -sand. She halted frequently, mopping her perspiring face with her -handkerchief.</p> - -<p>"That black thing in the grave," I asked her, "was it mother's coffin?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said angrily. "Ignorant dog! It is not a year yet, and our -Varia is already decayed! It is the sand that has done it; it lets the -water through. If that had to happen, it would have been better to—" -"Shall we all decay?"</p> - -<p>"All. Only the saints escape it."</p> - -<p>"You—you will not decay!"</p> - -<p>She halted, set my cap straight, and said to me seriously:</p> - -<p>"Don't think about it; it is better not. Do you hear?"</p> - -<p>But I did think of it. How offensive and revolting death was! How -odious! I felt very badly about it.</p> - -<p>When we reached home grandfather had already prepared the samovar and -laid the table.</p> - -<p>"Come and have some tea. I expect you are hot," he said. "I have put in -my own tea as well. This is for us all."</p> - -<p>He went to grandmother and patted her on the shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Well, Mother, well?"</p> - -<p>Grandmother held up her hands.</p> - -<p>"Whatever does it all mean?"</p> - -<p>"This is what it means: God is angry with us; He is tearing everything -away from us bit by bit. If families lived together in unity, like -fingers on a hand—"</p> - -<p>It was long since he had spoken so gently and peaceably. I listened, -hoping that the old man would extinguish my sense of injury, and help -me to forget the yellow pit and the black moist boards in protuberance -in its side. But grandmother cut him short harshly:</p> - -<p>"Leave off, Father! You have been uttering words like that all your -life, and I should like to know who is the better for them? All your -life you have eaten into every one as rust corrodes iron."</p> - -<p>Grandfather muttered, looked at her, and held his tongue.</p> - -<p>In the evening, at the gate, I told Ludmilla sorrowfully about what I -had seen in the morning, but it did not seem to make much impression on -her.</p> - -<p>"Orphans are better off. If my father and mother were to die, I should -leave my sister to look after my brother, and I myself would go into a -convent for the rest of my life. Where else should I go? I don't expect -to get married, being lame and unable to work. Besides, I might bring -crippled children into the world."</p> - -<p>She spoke wisely, like all the women of our street, and it must have -been from that evening that I lost interest in her. In fact, my life -took a turn which caused me to see her very seldom.</p> - -<p>A few days after the death of my brother, grandfather said to me:</p> - -<p>"Go to bed early this evening, while it is still light, and I will call -you. We will go into the forest and get some logs."</p> - -<p>"And I will come and gather herbs," declared grandmother.</p> - -<p>The forest of fir- and birch-trees stood on a marsh about three versts -distant from the village. Abounding in withered and fallen trees, it -stretched in one direction to the Oka, and in the other to the high -road to Moscow. Beyond it, with its soft, black bristles looking like -a black tent, rose the fir-thicket on the "Ridge of Savelov."</p> - -<p>All this property belonged to Count Shuvalov, and was badly guarded. -The inhabitants of Kunavin regarded it as their own, carried away the -fallen trees and cut off the dried wood, and on occasion were not -squeamish about cutting down living trees. In the autumn, when they -were laying in a stock of wood for the winter, people used to steal out -here by the dozen, with hatchets and ropes on their backs.</p> - -<p>And so we three went out at dawn over the silver-green, dewy fields. On -our left, beyond the Oka, above the ruddy sides of the Hill of Dyatlov, -above white Nijni-Novgorod, on the hillocks in the gardens, on the -golden domes of churches, rose the lazy Russian sun in its leisurely -manner. A gentle wind blew sleepily from the turbid Oka; the golden -buttercups, bowed down by the dew, sway to and fro; lilac-colored bells -bowed dumbly to the earth; everlasting flowers of different colors -stuck up dryly in the barren turf; the blood-red blossoms of the flower -called "night beauty" opened like stars. The woods came to meet us like -a dark army; the fir-trees spread out their wings like large birds; -the birches looked like maidens. The acrid smell of the marshes flowed -over the fields. My dog ran beside me with his pink tongue hanging out, -often halting and snuffing the air, and shaking his foxlike head, as -if in perplexity. Grandfather, in grandmother's short coat and an old -peakless cap, blinking and smiling at something or other, walked as -cautiously as if he were bent on stealing. Grandmother, wearing a blue -blouse, a black skirt, and a white handkerchief about her head, waddled -comfortably. It was difficult to hurry when walking behind her.</p> - -<p>The nearer we came to the forest, the more animated grandfather became. -Walking with his nose in the air and muttering, he began to speak, -at first disjointedly and inarticulately, and afterward happily and -beautifully, almost as if he had been drinking.</p> - -<p>"The forests are the Lord's gardens. No one planted them save the -wind of God and the holy breath of His mouth. When I was working on -the boats in my youth I went to Jegoulya. Oh, Lexei, you will never -have the experiences I have had! There are forests along the Oka, from -Kasimov to Mouron, and there are forests on the Volga, too, stretching -as far as the Urals. Yes; it is all so boundless and wonderful."</p> - -<p>Grandmother looked at him askance, and winked at me, and he, stumbling -over the hillocks, let fall some disjointed, dry words that have -remained forever fixed in my memory.</p> - -<p>"We were taking some empty oil-casks from Saratov to Makara on the -Yamarka, and we had with us as skipper Kyril of Poreshka. The mate -was a Tatar—Asaph, or some such name. When we reached Jegulia the -wind was right in our faces, blowing with all its force; and as it -remained in the same quarter and tossed us about, we went on shore -to cook some food for ourselves. It was Maytime. The sea lay smooth -around the land, and the waves just floated on her? like a flock of -birds—like thousands of swans which sport on the Caspian Sea. The -hills of Jegulia are green in the springtime; the sun floods the earth -with gold. We rested; we became friendly; we seemed to be drawn to one -another. It was gray and cold on the river, but on shore it was warm -and fragrant. At eventide our Kyril—he was a harsh man and well on in -years—stood up, took off his cap, and said: 'Well, children, I am no -longer either chief or servant. Go away by yourselves, and I will go -to the forest.' We were all startled. What was it that he was saying? -We ought not to be left without some one responsible to be master. You -see, people can't get on without a head, although it is only on the -Volga, which is like a straight road. It is possible to lose one's -way, for people alone are only like a senseless beast, and who cares -what becomes of them? We were frightened; but he—he had made up his -mind. I have no desire to go on living as your shepherd; I am going -into the forest.' Some of us had half a mind to seize and keep him by -force, but the others said, 'Wait!' Then the Tatar mate set up a cry: -I shall go, too!' It was very bad luck. The Tatar had not been paid by -the proprietors for the last two journeys; in fact, he had done half of -a third one without pay, and that was a lot of money to lose in those -days. We wrangled over the matter until night, and then seven of our -company left us, leaving only sixteen or fourteen of us. That's what -your forests do for people!"</p> - -<p>"Did they go and join the brigands?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe, or they may have become hermits. We did not inquire into the -matter then."</p> - -<p>Grandmother crossed herself.</p> - -<p>"Holy Mother of God! When one thinks of people, one cannot help being -sorry for them."</p> - -<p>"We are all given the same powers of reason, you know, where the devil -draws."</p> - -<p>We entered the forest by a wet path between marshy hillocks and frail -fir-trees. I thought that it must be lovely to go and live in the woods -as Kyril of Poreshka had done. There are no chattering human creatures -there, no fights or drunkenness. There I should be able to forget the -repulsive greediness of grandfather and mother's sandy grave, all -of which things hurt me, and weighed on my heart with an oppressive -heaviness. When we came to a dry place grandmother said:</p> - -<p>"We must have a snack now. Sit down."</p> - -<p>In her basket there were rye bread, onions, cucumbers, salt, and curds -wrapped in a cloth. Grandfather looked at all this in confusion and -blinked.</p> - -<p>"But I did not bring anything to eat, good Mother."</p> - -<p>"There is enough for us all."</p> - -<p>We sat down, leaning against the mast-like trunk of a fir-tree. The -air was laden with a resinous odor; from the fields blew a gentle -wind; the shave-grass waved to and fro. Grandmother plucked the herbs -with her dark hands, and told me about the medicinal properties of -St. John's-wort, betony, and rib-wort, and of the secret power of -bracken. Grandfather hewed the fallen trees in pieces, and it was my -part to carry the logs and put them all in one place; but I stole away -unnoticed into the thicket after grandmother. She looked as if she were -floating among the stout, hardy tree-trunks, and as if she were diving -when she stooped to the earth, which was strewn with fir-cones. She -talked to herself as she went along.</p> - -<p>"We have come too early again. There will be hardly any mushrooms. -Lord, how badly Thou lookest after the poor! Mushrooms are the treat of -the poor."</p> - -<p>I followed her silently and cautiously, not to attract her attention. I -did not wish to interrupt her conversation with God, the herbs, and the -frogs. But she saw me.</p> - -<p>"Have you run away from grandfather?" And stooping to the black earth, -splendidly decked in flowered vestments, she spoke of the time when -God, enraged with mankind, flooded the earth with water and drowned all -living creatures. "But the sweet Mother of God had beforehand collected -the seeds of everything in a basket and hidden them, and when it was -all over, she begged the sun: 'Dry the earth from end to end, and then -will all the people sing thy praises.' The sun dried the earth, and -she sowed the seed. God looked. Once more the earth was covered with -living creatures, herbs, cattle, and people. 'Who has done this against -My will?' He asked. And here she confessed, and as God had been sorry -Himself to see the earth bare, He said to her, 'You have done well.'"</p> - -<p>I liked this story, but it surprised me, and I said very gravely:</p> - -<p>"But was that really so? The Mother of God was born long after the -flood."</p> - -<p>It was now grandmother's turn to be surprised.</p> - -<p>"Who told you that?"</p> - -<p>"It was written in the books at school."</p> - -<p>This reassured her, and she gave me the advice:</p> - -<p>"Put all that aside; forget it. It is only out of books; they are lies, -those books." And laughing softly, gayly, "Think for a moment, silly! -God was; and His Mother was not? Then of whom was He born?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Good! You have learned enough to be able to say 'I don't know.'"</p> - -<p>"The priest said that the Mother of God was born of Joachim and Anna."</p> - -<p>Then grandmother was angry. She faced about, and looked sternly into my -eyes.</p> - -<p>"If that is what you think, I will slap you." But in the course of a -few minutes she explained to me. "The Blessed Virgin always existed -before any one and anything. Of Her was God born, and then—"</p> - -<p>"And Christ, what about Him?"</p> - -<p>Grandmother was silent, shutting her eyes in her confusion.</p> - -<p>"And what about Christ? Eh? eh?"</p> - -<p>I saw that I was victor, that I had caused the divine mysteries to be a -snare to her, and it was not a pleasant thought.</p> - -<p>We went farther and farther into the forest, into the dark-blue haze -pierced by the golden rays of the sun. There was a peculiar murmur, -dreamy, and arousing dreams. The crossbill chirped, the titmouses -uttered their bell-like notes, the goldfinch piped, the cuckoo laughed, -the jealous song of the chaffinch was heard unceasingly, and that -strange bird, the hawfinch, sang pensively. Emerald-green frogs hopped -around our feet; among the roots, guarding them, lay an adder, with his -golden head raised; the squirrel cracked nuts, his furry tail peeping -out among the fir-trees. The deeper one went into the forest, the more -one saw.</p> - -<p>Among the trunks of the fir-trees appeared transparent, aërial figures -of gigantic people, which disappeared into the green mass through which -the blue and silver sky shone. Under one's feet there was a splendid -carpet of moss, sown with red bilberries, and moor-berries shone in the -grass like drops of blood. Mushrooms tantalized one with their strong -smell.</p> - -<p>"Holy Virgin, bright earthly light," prayed grandmother, drawing a deep -breath.</p> - -<p>In the forest she was like the mistress of a house with all her family -round her. She ambled along like a bear, seeing and praising everything -and giving thanks. It seemed as if a certain warmth flowed from her -through the forest, and when the moss, crushed by her feet, raised -itself and stood up in her wake, it was peculiarly pleasing to me to -see it.</p> - -<p>As I walked along I thought how nice it would be to be a brigand; -to rob the greedy and give the spoil to the poor; to make them all -happy and satisfied, neither envying nor scolding one another, like -bad-tempered curs. It was good to go thus to grandmother's God, to her -Holy Virgin, and tell them all the truth about the bad lives people -led, and how clumsily and offensively they buried one another in -rubbishy sand. And there was so much that was unnecessarily repulsive -and torturing on earth! If the Holy Virgin believed what I said, let -her give me such an intelligence as would enable me to construct -everything differently and improve the condition of things. It did not -matter about my not being grown-up. Christ had been only a year older -than I was when the wise men listened to Him.</p> - -<p>Once in my preoccupation I fell into a deep pit, hurting my side and -grazing the back of my neck. Sitting at the bottom of this pit in the -cold mud, which was as sticky as resin, I realized with a feeling of -intense humiliation that I should not be able to get out by myself, -and I did not like the idea of frightening grandmother by calling out. -However, I had to call her in the end. She soon dragged me out, and, -crossing herself, said:</p> - -<p>"The Lord be praised! It is a lucky thing that the bear's pit was -empty. What would have happened to you if the master of the house had -been lying there?" And she cried through her laughter.</p> - -<p>Then she took me to the brook, washed my wounds and tied them up with -strips of her chemise, after laying some healing leaves upon them, and -took me into the railway signal-box, for I had not the strength to get -all the way home.</p> - -<p>And so it happened that almost every day I said to grandmother:</p> - -<p>"Let us go into the forest."</p> - -<p>She used to agree willingly, and thus we lived all the summer and -far into the autumn, gathering herbs, berries, mushrooms, and nuts. -Grandmother sold what we gathered, and by this means we were able to -keep ourselves.</p> - -<p>"Lazy beggars!" shrieked grandfather, though we never had food from him.</p> - -<p>The forest called up a feeling of peace and solace in my heart, and -in that feeling all my griefs were swallowed up, and all that was -unpleasant was obliterated. During that time also my senses acquired a -peculiar keenness, my hearing and sight became more acute, my memory -more retentive, my storehouse of impressions widened.</p> - -<p>And the more I saw of grandmother, the more she amazed me. I had been -accustomed to regard her as a higher being, as the very best and the -wisest creature upon the earth, and she was continually strengthening -this conviction. For instance, one evening we had been gathering white -mushrooms, and when we arrived at the edge of the forest on our way -home grandmother sat down to rest while I went behind the tree to see -if there were any more mushrooms. Suddenly I heard her voice, and this -is what I saw: she was seated by the footpath calmly putting away the -root of a mushroom, while near her, with his tongue hanging out, stood -a gray, emaciated dog.</p> - -<p>"You go away now! Go away!" said grandmother. "Go, and God be with you!"</p> - -<p>Not long before that Valek had poisoned my dog, and I wanted very -much to have this one. I ran to the path. The dog hunched himself -strangely without moving his neck, and, looking at me with his green, -hungry eyes, leaped into the forest, with his tail between his legs. -His movements were not those of a dog, and when I whistled, he hurled -himself wildly into the bushes.</p> - -<p>"You saw?" said grandmother, smiling. "At first I was deceived. I -thought it was a dog. I looked again and saw that I was mistaken. He -had the fangs of a wolf, and the neck, too. I was quite frightened. -'Well,' I said, 'if you are a wolf, take yourself off!' It is a good -thing that wolves are not dangerous in the summer."</p> - -<p>She was never afraid in the forest, and always found her way home -unerringly. By the smell of the grass she knew what kind of mushrooms -ought to be found in such and such a place, what sort in another, and -often examined me in the subject.</p> - -<p>"What sort of trees do this and that fungus love? How do you -distinguish the edible from the poisonous?"</p> - -<p>By hardly visible scratches on the bark of a tree she showed me where -the squirrel had made his home in a hollow, and I would climb up and -ravage the nest of the animal, robbing him of his winter store of -nuts. Sometimes there were as many as ten pounds in one nest. And one -day, when I was thus engaged, a hunter planted twenty-seven shot in -the right side of my body. Grandmother got eleven of them out with a -needle, but the rest remained under my skin for many years, coming out -by degrees.</p> - -<p>Grandmother was pleased with me for bearing pain patiently.</p> - -<p>"Brave boy!" she praised me. "He who is most patient will be the -cleverest."</p> - -<p>Whenever she had saved a little money from the sale of mushrooms and -nuts, she used to lay it on window-sills as "secret alms," and she -herself went about in rags and patches even on Sundays.</p> - -<p>"You go about worse than a beggar. You put me to shame," grumbled -grandfather.</p> - -<p>"What does it matter to you? I am not your daughter. I am not looking -for a husband."</p> - -<p>Their quarrels had become more frequent.</p> - -<p>"I am not more sinful than others," cried grandfather in injured tones, -"but my punishment is greater."</p> - -<p>Grandmother used to tease him.</p> - -<p>"The devils know what every one is worth." And she would say to me -privately: "My old man is frightened of devils. See how quickly he is -aging! It is all from fear; eh, poor man!"</p> - -<p>I had become very hardy during the summer, and quite savage through -living in the forest, and I had lost all interest in the life of my -contemporaries, such as Ludmilla. She seemed to me to be tiresomely -sensible.</p> - -<p>One day grandfather returned from the town very wet. It was autumn, -and the rains were falling. Shaking himself on the threshold like a -sparrow, he said triumphantly:</p> - -<p>"Well, young rascal, you are going to a new situation to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Where now?" asked grandmother, angrily.</p> - -<p>"To your sister Matrena, to her son."</p> - -<p>"O Father, you have done very wrong."</p> - -<p>"Hold your tongue, fool! They will make a man of him."</p> - -<p>Grandmother let her head droop and said nothing more.</p> - -<p>In the evening I told Ludmilla that I was going to live in the town.</p> - -<p>"They are going to take me there soon," she informed me, thoughtfully. -"Papa wants my leg to be taken off altogether. Without it I should get -well."</p> - -<p>She had grown very thin during the summer; the skin of her face had -assumed a bluish tint, and her eyes had grown larger.</p> - -<p>"Are you afraid?" I asked her.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she replied, and wept silently.</p> - -<p>I had no means of consoling her, for I was frightened myself at the -prospect of life in town. We sat for a long time in painful silence, -pressed close against each other. If it had been summer, I should have -asked grandmother to come begging with me, as she had done when she -was a girl. We might have taken Ludmilla with us; I could have drawn -her along in a little cart. But it was autumn. A damp wind blew up the -streets, the sky was heavy with rain-clouds, the earth frowned. It had -begun to look dirty and unhappy.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h5> - - -<p>Once more I was in the town, in a two-storied white house which -reminded me of a coffin meant to hold a lot of people. It was a new -house, but it looked as if were in ill health, and was bloated like -a beggar who has suddenly become rich and has overeaten. It stood -sidewise to the street, and had eight windows to each floor, but where -the face of the house ought to have been there were only four windows. -The lower windows looked on a narrow passage and on the yard, and the -upper windows on the laundress's little house and the causeway.</p> - -<p>No street, as I understood the term, existed. In front of the house a -dirty causeway ran in two directions, cut in two by a narrow dike. To -the left, it extended to the House of Detention, and was heaped with -rubbish and logs, and at the bottom stood a thick pool of dark-green -filth. On the right, at the end of the causeway, the slimy Xvyexdin -Pond stagnated. The middle of the causeway was exactly opposite -the house, and half of it was strewn with filth and overgrown with -nettles and horse sorrel, while in the other half the priest Doriedont -Pokrovski had planted a garden in which was a summer-house of thin -lathes painted red. If one threw stones at it, the lathes split with a -crackling sound.</p> - -<p>The place was intolerably depressing and shamelessly dirty. The -autumn had ruthlessly broken up the filthy, rotten earth, changing it -into a sort of red resin which clung to one's feet tenaciously. I had -never seen so much dirt in so small a space before, and after being -accustomed to the cleanliness of the fields and forests, this corner of -the town aroused my disgust.</p> - -<p>Beyond the causeway stretched gray, broken-down fences, and in the -distance I recognized the little house in which I had lived when I was -shop-boy. The nearness of that house depressed me still more. I had -known my master before; he and his brother used to be among mother's -visitors. His brother it was who had sung so comically:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Andrei—papa, Andrei—papa—"<br /> -</p> - -<p>They were not changed. The elder, with a hook nose and long hair, was -pleasant in manner and seemed to be kind; the younger, Victor, had the -same horse-like face and the same freckles. Their mother, grandmother's -sister, was very cross and fault-finding. The elder son was married. -His wife was a splendid creature, white like bread made from Indian -corn, with very large, dark eyes. She said to me twice during the first -day:</p> - -<p>"I gave your mother a silk cloak trimmed with jet."</p> - -<p>Somehow I did not want to believe that she had given, and that my -mother had accepted, a present. When she reminded me of it again, I -said:</p> - -<p>"You gave it to her, and that is the end of the matter; there is -nothing to boast about."</p> - -<p>She started away from me.</p> - -<p>"Wh-a-at? To whom are you speaking?"</p> - -<p>Her face came out in red blotches, her eyes rolled, and she called her -husband.</p> - -<p>He came into the kitchen, with his compasses in his hand and a pencil -behind his ear, listened to what his wife had to say, and then said to -me:</p> - -<p>"You must speak properly to her and to us all. There must be no -insolence." Then he said to his wife, impatiently, "Don't disturb me -with your nonsense!"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean—nonsense? If your relatives—"</p> - -<p>"The devil take my relatives!" cried the master, rushing away.</p> - -<p>I myself was not pleased to think that they were relatives of -grandmother. Experience had taught me that relatives behave worse to -one another than do strangers. Their gossip is more spiteful, since -they know more of the bad and ridiculous sides of one another than -strangers, and they fall out and fight more often.</p> - -<p>I liked my master. He used to shake back his hair with a graceful -movement, and tuck it behind his ears, and he reminded me somehow of -"Good Business." He often laughed merrily; his gray eyes looked kindly -upon me, and funny wrinkles played divertingly about his aquiline nose.</p> - -<p>"You have abused each other long enough, wild fowl," he would say to -his mother and his wife, showing his small, closely set teeth in a -gentle smile.</p> - -<p>The mother-in-law and the daughter-in-law abused each other all day. -I was surprised to see how swiftly and easily they plunged into a -quarrel. The first thing in the morning, with their hair unbrushed -and their clothes unfastened, they would rush about the rooms as if -the house were on fire, and they fussed about all day, only pausing -to take breath in the dining-room at dinner, tea, or supper. They ate -and drank till they could eat and drink no more, and at dinner they -talked about the food and disputed lethargically, preparing for a big -quarrel. No matter what it was that the mother-in-law had prepared, the -daughter-in-law was sure to say:</p> - -<p>"My mother did not cook it this way."</p> - -<p>"Well, if that is so, she did it badly, that's all." "On the contrary, -she did it better."</p> - -<p>"Well, you had better go back to your mother."</p> - -<p>"I am mistress here."</p> - -<p>"And who am I?"</p> - -<p>Here the master would intervene.</p> - -<p>"That will do, wild fowl! What is the matter with you? Are you mad?"</p> - -<p>For some inexplicable reason everything about that house was peculiar -and mirth-provoking. The way from the kitchen to the dining-room lay -through a small closet, the only one in the house, through which they -carried the samovar and the food into the dining-room. It was the -cause of merry witticisms and often of laughable misunderstandings. -I slept in the kitchen, between that door and the one leading to the -stairs. My head was hot from the heat of the cooking-stove, but the -draft from the stairs blew on my feet. When I retired to bed, I used to -take all the mats off the floor and wrap them round my feet.</p> - -<p>The large reception-room, with its two pier-glasses, its pictures in -gilt frames, its pair of card-tables, and its dozen Vienna chairs, -was a dreary, depressing place. The small drawing-room was simply -packed with a medley of soft furniture, with wedding presents, silver -articles, and a tea-service. It was adorned with three lamps, one -larger than the other two.</p> - -<p>In the dark, windowless bedroom, in addition to the wide bed, there -were trunks and cupboards from which came the odors of leaf tobacco and -Persian camomile. These three rooms were always unoccupied, while the -entire household squeezed itself into the little dining-room. Directly -after breakfast, at eight o'clock, the master and his brother moved the -table, and, laying sheets of white paper upon it, with cases, pencils, -and saucers containing Indian ink, set to work, one at each end of the -table. The table was shaky, and took up nearly the whole of the room, -and when the mistress and the nurse came out of the nursery they had to -brush past the corners.</p> - -<p>"Don't come fussing about here!" Victor would cry.</p> - -<p>"Vassia, please tell him not to shout at me," the mistress would say -to her husband in an offended tone.</p> - -<p>"All right; but don't come and shake the table," her husband would -reply peaceably.</p> - -<p>"I am stout, and the room is so small."</p> - -<p>"Well, we will go and work in the large drawingroom."</p> - -<p>But at that she cried indignantly:</p> - -<p>"Lord! why on earth should you work in the large drawing-room?"</p> - -<p>At the door of the closet appeared the angry face of Matrena Ivanovna, -flushed with the heat of the stove. She called out:</p> - -<p>"You see how it is, Vassia? She knows that you are working, and yet she -can't be satisfied with the other four rooms."</p> - -<p>Victor laughed maliciously, but the master said: "That will do!"</p> - -<p>And the daughter-in-law, with a venomously eloquent gesture, sank into -a chair and groaned:</p> - -<p>"I am dying! I am dying!"</p> - -<p>"Don't hinder my work, the devil take you!" roared the master, turning -pale with the exertion. "This is nothing better than a mad-house. Here -am I breaking my back to feed you. Oh, you wild fowl!"</p> - -<p>At first these quarrels used to alarm me, especially when the mistress, -seizing a table knife, rushed into the closet, and, shutting both the -doors, began to shriek like a mad thing. For a minute the house was -quiet, then the master, having tried to force the door, stooped down, -and called out to me:</p> - -<p>"Climb up on my back and unfasten the hook."</p> - -<p>I swiftly jumped on his back, and broke the pane of glass over the -door; but when I bent down, the mistress hit me over the head with the -blade of the knife. However, I succeeded in opening the door, and the -master, dragging his wife into the dining-room after a struggle, took -the knife away from her. As I sat in the kitchen rubbing my bruised -head, I soon came to the conclusion that I had suffered for nothing. -The knife was so blunt that it would hardly cut a piece of bread, and -it would certainly never have made an incision in any one's skin. -Besides, there had been no need for me to climb on the master's back. I -could have broken the glass by standing on a chair, and in any case it -would have been easier for a grown person to have unfastened the hook, -since his arms would have been longer. After that episode the quarrels -in the house ceased to alarm me.</p> - -<p>The brothers used to sing in the church choir; sometimes they used to -sing softly over their work. The elder would begin in a baritone:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"The ring, which was the maiden's heart,<br /> -I cast from me into the sea."<br /> -</p> - -<p>And the younger would join with his tenor:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"And I with that very ring<br /> -Her earthly joy did ruin."<br /> -</p> - -<p>The mistress would murmur from the nursery:</p> - -<p>"Have you gone out of your minds? Baby is asleep," or: "How can you, -Vassia, a married man, be singing about girls? Besides, the bell will -ring for vespers in a minute."</p> - -<p>"What's the matter now? We are only singing a church tune."</p> - -<p>But the mistress intimated that it was out of place to sing church -tunes here, there, and everywhere. Besides, and she pointed eloquently -to the little door.</p> - -<p>"We shall have to change our quarters, or the devil knows what will -become of us," said the master.</p> - -<p>He said just as often that he must get another table, and he said it -for three years in succession.</p> - -<p>When I listened to my employers talking about people, I was always -reminded of the boot-shop. They used to talk in the same way there. -It was evident to me that my present masters also thought themselves -better than any one in the town. They knew the rules of correct conduct -to the minutest detail, and, guided by these rules, which were not at -all clear to me, they judged others pitilessly and unsparingly. This -sitting in judgment aroused in me a ferocious resentment and anger -against the laws of my employers, and the breaking of those laws became -a source of pleasure to me.</p> - -<p>I had a lot of work to do. I fulfilled all the duties of a housemaid, -washed the kitchen over on Wednesday, cleaning the samovar and all the -copper vessels, and on Saturday cleaned the floor of the rest of the -house and both staircases. I had to chop and bring in the wood for the -stoves, wash up, prepare vegetables for cooking, and go marketing -with the mistress, carrying her basket of purchases after her, besides -running errands to the shops and to the chemist.</p> - -<p>My real mistress, grandmother's sister, a noisy, indomitable, -implacably fierce old woman, rose early at six o'clock, and after -washing herself in a hurry, knelt before the icon with only her chemise -on, and complained long to God about her life, her children, and her -daughter-in-law.</p> - -<p>"Lord," she would exclaim, with tears in her voice, pressing her -two first fingers and her thumbs against her forehead—"Lord, I ask -nothing, I want nothing; only give me rest and peace, Lord, by Thy -power!"</p> - -<p>Her sobs used to wake me up, and, half asleep, I used to peep from -under the blanket, and listen with terror to her passionate prayers. -The autumn morning looked dimly in at the kitchen window through panes -washed by the rain. On the floor in the cold twilight her gray figure -swayed from side to side; she waved her arms alarmingly. Her thin, -light hair fell from her small head upon her neck and shoulders from -under the swathing handkerchief, which kept slipping off. She would -replace it angrily with her left hand, muttering "Oh, bother you!"</p> - -<p>Striking her forehead with force, beating her breast and her shoulders, -she would wail:</p> - -<p>"And my daughter-in-law—punish her, O Lord, on my account! Make her -pay for all that she has made me suffer! And open the eyes of my -son—open his eyes and Victor's! Lord, help Victor; be merciful to -him!"</p> - -<p>Victorushka also slept in the kitchen, and, hearing the groans of his -mother, would cry in a sleepy voice:</p> - -<p>"Mamasha, you are funning down the young wife again. It is really -dreadful."</p> - -<p>"All right; go to sleep," the old woman would whisper guiltily. She -would be silent for a minute perhaps, and then she would begin to -murmur vindictively, "May their bones be broken, and may there be no -shelter for them on earth, Lord!"</p> - -<p>Even grandfather had never prayed so terribly.</p> - -<p>When she had said her prayers she used to wake me up.</p> - -<p>"Wake up! You will never get on if you do not get up early. Get the -samovar ready! Bring the wood in! Did n't you get the sticks ready over -night?"</p> - -<p>I tried to be quick in order to escape hearing the frothy whisper of -the old woman, but it was impossible to please her. She went about the -kitchen like a winter snow-storm, hissing:</p> - -<p>"Not so much noise, you little devil! Wake Victorushka up, and I will -give you something! Now run along to the shop!"</p> - -<p>On week-days I used to buy two pounds of wheaten bread and two copecks' -worth of rolls for the young mistress. When I brought it in, the women -would look at it suspiciously, and, weighing it in the palms of their -hands, would ask;</p> - -<p>"Was n't there a make-weight? No? Open your mouth!" And then they would -cry triumphantly: "He has gobbled up the make-weight; here are the -crumbs in his teeth! You see, Vassia?"</p> - -<p>I worked willingly enough. It pleased me to abolish dirt from the -house, to wash the floors, to clean the copper vessels, the warm-holes, -and the door-handles. More than once I heard the women remark about me -in their peaceful moments:</p> - -<p>"He is zealous."</p> - -<p>"And clean."</p> - -<p>"Only he is very impudent."</p> - -<p>"Well, Mother, who has educated him?"</p> - -<p>They both tried to educate me to respect them, but I regarded them -as half witted. I did not like them; I would not obey them, and I -used to answer them back. The young mistress must have noticed what a -bad effect their speeches had upon me, for she said with increasing -frequency:</p> - -<p>"You ought to remember from what a poor family you have been taken. I -gave your mother a silk cloak trimmed with jet."</p> - -<p>One day I said to her:</p> - -<p>"Do you want me to skin myself to pay for the cloak?"</p> - -<p>"Good gracious!" she cried in a tone of alarm, "this boy is capable of -setting fire to the place!"</p> - -<p>I was extremely surprised. Why did she say that? They both complained -to the master about me on this occasion, and he said to me sternly:</p> - -<p>"Now, my boy, you had better look out." But one day he said coolly to -his wife and his mother: "You are a nice pair! You ride the boy as if -he were a gelding! Any other boy would have run away long ago if you -had not worked him to death first."</p> - -<p>This made the women so angry that they wept, and his wife stamped her -foot, crying:</p> - -<p>"How can you speak like that before him, you longhaired fool? What can -I do with him after this? And in my state of health, too!"</p> - -<p>The mother cried sadly:</p> - -<p>"May God forgive you, Vassia Vassilich! Only, mark my words, you are -spoiling that boy."</p> - -<p>When they had gone away raging, the master said to me sternly:</p> - -<p>"You see, you little devil, what row's you cause! I shall take you back -to your grandfather, and you can be a rag-picker again."</p> - -<p>This insult was more than I could bear, and I said: "I had a better -life as a rag-picker than I have with you. You took me as a pupil, and -what have you taught me? To empty the dish-water!"</p> - -<p>He took me by the hair, but not roughly, and looked into my eyes, -saying in a tone of astonishment:</p> - -<p>"I see you are rebellious. That, my lad, won't suit me. N-o-o."</p> - -<p>I thought that I should be sent away for this, but a few days later he -came into the kitchen with a roll of thick paper, a pencil, a square, -and a ruler in his hands.</p> - -<p>"When you have finished cleaning the knives, draw this."</p> - -<p>On one sheet of paper was outlined the façade of a two-storied house, -with many windows and absurd decorations.</p> - -<p>"Here are compasses for you. Place dots on the paper where the ends -of the lines come, and then draw from point to point with a ruler, -lengthwise first—that will be horizontal—and then across—that will -be vertical. Now get on with it."</p> - -<p>I was delighted to have some clean work to do, but I gazed at the paper -and the instruments with reverent fear, for I understood nothing about -them. However, after washing my hands, I sat down to learn. I drew all -the horizontal lines on the sheet and compared them. They were quite -good, although three seemed superfluous. I drew the vertical lines, -and observed with astonishment that the face of the house was absurdly -disfigured. The windows had crossed over to the partition wall, and -one came out behind the wall and hung in mid-air. The front steps were -raised in the air to the height of the second floor; a cornice appeared -in the middle of the roof; and a dormer-window on the chimney.</p> - -<p>For a long time, hardly able to restrain my tears, I gazed at those -miracles of inaccuracy, trying to make out how they had occurred; and -not being able to arrive at any conclusion, I decided to rectify the -mistakes by the aid of fancy. I drew upon the façade of the house, upon -the cornices, and the edge of the roof, crows, doves, and sparrows, -and on the ground in front of the windows, people with crooked legs, -under umbrellas which did not quite hide their deformities. Then I drew -slanting lines across the whole, and took my work to my master.</p> - -<p>He raised his eyebrows, ruffled his hair, and gruffly inquired:</p> - -<p>"What is all this about?"</p> - -<p>"That is rain coming down," I explained. "When it rains, the house -looks crooked, because the rain itself is always crooked. The -birds—you see, these are all birds—are taking shelter. They always do -that when it rains. And these people are running home. There—that is a -lady who has fallen down, and that is a peddler with lemons to sell."</p> - -<p>"I am much obliged to you," said my master, and bending over the table -till his hair swept the paper, he burst out laughing as he cried:</p> - -<p>"Och! you deserve to be torn up and thrown away yourself, you wild -sparrow!"</p> - -<p>The mistress came in, and having looked at my work, said to her husband:</p> - -<p>"Beat him!"</p> - -<p>But the master said peaceably:</p> - -<p>"That's all right; I myself did not begin any better."</p> - -<p>Obliterating the spoiled house with a red pencil, he gave me some paper.</p> - -<p>"Try once more."</p> - -<p>The second copy came out better, except that a window appeared in -place of the front door. But I did not like to think that the house was -empty, so I filled it with all sorts of inmates. At the windows sat -ladies with fans in their hands, and cavaliers with cigarettes. One -of these, a non-smoker, was making a "long nose" at all the others. A -cabman stood on the steps, and near him lay a dog.</p> - -<p>"Why, you have been scribbling over it again!" the master exclaimed -angrily.</p> - -<p>I explained to him that a house without inhabitants was a dull place, -but he only scolded me.</p> - -<p>"To the devil with all this foolery! If you want to learn, learn! But -this is rubbish!"</p> - -<p>When at length I learned to make a copy of the façade which resembled -the original he was pleased.</p> - -<p>"There, you see what you can do! Now, if you choose, we shall soon get -on," and he gave me a lesson.</p> - -<p>"Make a plan of this house, showing the arrangement of the rooms, the -places of the doors and windows, and the rest. I shall not show you -how. You must do it by yourself."</p> - -<p>I went to the kitchen and debated. How was I to do it? But at this -point my studies in the art of drawing came to a standstill.</p> - -<p>The old mistress came to me and said spitefully:</p> - -<p>"So you want to draw?"</p> - -<p>Seizing me by the hair, she bumped my head on the table so hard that my -nose and lips were bruised. Then she darted upon and tore up the paper, -swept the instruments from the table, and with her hands on her hips -said triumphantly:</p> - -<p>"That was more than I could stand. Is an outsider to do the work while -his only brother, his own flesh and blood, goes elsewhere?"</p> - -<p>The master came running in, his wife rushed after him, and a wild scene -began. All three flew at one another, spitting and howling, and it -ended in the women weeping, and the master saying to me:</p> - -<p>"You will have to give up the idea for a time, and not learn. You can -see for yourself what comes of it!"</p> - -<p>I pitied him. He was so crushed, so defenseless, and quite deafened by -the shrieks of the women. I had realized before that the old woman did -not like my studying, for she used to hinder me purposely, so I always -asked her before I sat down to my drawing:</p> - -<p>"There is nothing for me to do?"</p> - -<p>She would answer frowningly:</p> - -<p>"When there is I will tell you," and in a few minutes she would send -me on some errand, or she would say: "How beautifully you cleaned the -staircase to-day! The corners are full of dirt and dust. Go and sweep -them!"</p> - -<p>I would go and look, but there was never any dust. "Do you dare to -argue with me?" she would cry. One day she upset <i>kvass</i> all over -my drawings, and at another time she spilt oil from the image lamp -over them. She played tricks on me like a young girl, with childish -artfulness, and with childish ignorance trying to conceal her -artfulness. Never before or since have I met a person who was so -soon put into a temper and for such trivial reasons, nor any one so -passionately fond of complaining about every one and everything. -People, as a rule, are given to complaining, but she did it with a -peculiar delight, as if she were singing a song.</p> - -<p>Her love for her son was like an insanity. It amused me, but at the -same time it frightened me by what I can only describe as its furious -intensity. Sometimes, after her morning prayers, she would stand by the -stove, with her elbows resting on the mantel-board, and would whisper -hotly:</p> - -<p>"My luck! My idol! My little drop of hot blood, like a jewel! Light -as an angel! He sleeps. Sleep on, child! Clothe thy soul with happy -dreams! Dream to thyself a bride, beautiful above all others, a -princess and an heiress, the daughter of a merchant! As for your -enemies, may they perish as soon as they are born! And your friends, -may they live for a hundred years, and may the girls run after you like -ducks after the drake!"</p> - -<p>All this was inexpressibly ludicrous to me. Coarse, lazy Victor was -like a woodpecker, with a woodpecker's large, mottled nose, and the -same stubborn and dull nature. Sometimes his mother's whispers awoke -him, and he muttered sleepily:</p> - -<p>"Go to the devil, Mamasha! What do you mean by snorting right in my -face? You make life unbearable."</p> - -<p>Sometimes she stole away humbly, laughing:</p> - -<p>"Well, go to sleep! Go to sleep, saucy fellow!"</p> - -<p>But sometimes her legs seemed to give way, her feet came down heavily -on the edge of the stove, and she opened her mouth and panted loudly, -as if her tongue were on fire, gurgling out caustic words.</p> - -<p>"So-o? It's your mother you are sending to the devil. Ach! you! My -shame! Accursed heart-sore! The devil must have set himself in my heart -to ruin you from birth!"</p> - -<p>She uttered obscene words, words of the drunken streets. It was painful -to listen to her. She slept little, fitfully jumping down from the -stove sometimes several times in the night, and coming over to the -couch to wake me.</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"Be quiet!" she would whisper, crossing herself and looking at -something in the darkness. "O Lord, Elias the prophet, great martyr -Varvara, save me from sudden death!"</p> - -<p>She lighted the candle with a trembling hand. Her round, nosy face was -swollen tensely; her gray eyes, blinking alarmingly, gazed fixedly at -the surroundings, which looked different in the twilight. The kitchen, -which was large, but encumbered with cupboards and trunks, looked small -by night. There the moonbeams lived quietly; the flame of the lamp -burning before the icon quivered; the knives gleamed like icicles on -the walls; on the floor the black frying-pans looked like faces without -eyes.</p> - -<p>The old woman would clamber down cautiously from the stove, as if she -were stepping into the water from a river-bank, and, slithering along -with her bare feet, went into the corner, where over the wash-stand -hung a ewer that reminded me of a severed head. There was also a -pitcher of water standing there. Choking and panting, she drank the -water, and then looked out of the window through the pale-blue pattern -of hoar-frost on the panes.</p> - -<p>"Have mercy on me, O God! have mercy on me!" she prayed in a whisper. -Then putting out the candle, she fell on her knees, and whispered in an -aggrieved tone: "Who loves me, Lord? To whom am I necessary?"</p> - -<p>Climbing back on the stove, and opening the little door of the chimney, -she tried to feel if the flue-plate lay straight, soiling her hands -with soot, and fell asleep at that precise moment, just as if she had -been struck by an invisible hand. When I felt resentful toward her I -used to think what a pity it was that she had not married grandfather. -She would have led him a life!</p> - -<p>She often made me very miserable, but there were days when her puffy -face became sad, her eyes were suffused with tears, and she said very -touchingly:</p> - -<p>"Do you think that I have an easy time? I brought children into the -world, reared them, set them on their feet, and for what? To live with -them and be their general servant. Do you think that is sweet to me? -My son has brought a strange woman and new blood into the family. Is it -nice for me? Well?"</p> - -<p>"No, it is not," I said frankly.</p> - -<p>"Aha! there you are, you see!" And she began to talk shamelessly about -her daughter-in-law. "Once I went with her to the bath and saw her. Do -you think she has anything to flatter herself about? Can she be called -beautiful?"</p> - -<p>She always spoke objectionably about the relations of husband and wife. -At first her speeches aroused my disgust, but I soon accustomed myself -to listen to them with attention and with great interest, feeling that -there was something painfully true about them.</p> - -<p>"Woman is strength; she deceived God Himself. That is so," she hissed, -striking her hand on the table. "Through Eve are we all condemned to -hell. What do you think of that?"</p> - -<p>On the subject of woman's power she could talk endlessly, and it -always seemed as if she were trying to frighten some one in these -conversations. I particularly remembered that "Eve deceived God."</p> - -<p>Overlooking our yard was the wing of a large building, and of the eight -flats comprised in it, four were occupied by officers, and the fifth -by the regimental chaplain. The yard was always full of officers' -servants and orderlies, after whom ran laundresses, housemaids, and -cooks. Dramas and romances were being carried on in all the kitchens, -accompanied by tears, quarrels, and fights. The soldiers quarreled -among themselves and with the landlord's workmen; they used to beat -the women.</p> - -<p>The yard was a seething pot of what is called vice, immorality, the -wild, untamable appetites of healthy lads. This life, which brought -out all the cruel sensuality, the thoughtless tyranny, the obscene -boastfulness of the conqueror, was criticized in every detail by my -employers at dinner, tea, and supper. The old woman knew all the -stories of the yard, and told them with gusto, rejoicing in the -misfortunes of others. The younger woman listened to these tales in -silence, smiling with her swollen lips. Victor used to burst out -laughing, but the master would frown and say:</p> - -<p>"That will do, Mamasha!"</p> - -<p>"Good Lord! I mustn't speak now, I suppose!" the story-teller -complained; but Victor encouraged her.</p> - -<p>"Go on, Mother! What is there to hinder you? We are all your own -people, after all."</p> - -<p>I could never understand why one should talk shamelessly before one's -own people.</p> - -<p>The elder son bore himself toward his mother with contemptuous pity, -and avoided being alone with her, for if that happened, she would -surely overwhelm him with complaints against his wife, and would never -fail to ask him for money. He would hastily press into her hand a ruble -or so or several pieces of small silver.</p> - -<p>"It is not right, Mother; take the money. I do not grudge it to you, -but it is unjust."</p> - -<p>"But I want it for beggars, for candles when I go to church."</p> - -<p>"Now, where will you find beggars there? You will end by spoiling -Victor."</p> - -<p>"You don't love your brother. It is a great sin on your part."</p> - -<p>He would go out, waving her away.</p> - -<p>Victor's manner to his mother was coarse and derisive. He was very -greedy, and he was always hungry. On Sundays his mother used to bake -custards, and she always hid a few of them in a vessel under the couch -on which I slept. When Victor left the dinner-table he would get them -out and grumble:</p> - -<p>"Couldn't you have saved a few more, you old' fool?"</p> - -<p>"Make haste and eat them before any one sees you."</p> - -<p>"I will tell how you steal cakes for me behind their backs."</p> - -<p>Once I took out the vessel and ate two custards, for which Victor -nearly killed me. He disliked me as heartily as I disliked him. He used -to jeer at me and make me clean his boots about three times a day, and -when I slept in the loft, he used to push up the trapdoor and spit in -the crevice, trying to aim at my head.</p> - -<p>It may be that in imitation of his brother, who often said "wild fowl," -Victor also needed to use some catchwords, but his were all senseless -and particularly absurd.</p> - -<p>"Mamasha! Left wheel! where are my socks?"</p> - -<p>And he used to follow me about with stupid questions.</p> - -<p>"Alesha, answer me. Why do we write 'sinenki' and pronounce it -'phiniki'? Why do we say 'Kolokola' and not 'Okolokola'? Why do we say -'K'derevou' and not 'gdye plachou'?"</p> - -<p>I did not like the way any of them spoke, and having been educated in -the beautiful tongue which grandmother and grandfather spoke, I could -not understand at first how words that had no sort of connection came -to be coupled together, such as "terribly funny," "I am dying to eat," -"awfully happy." It seemed to me that what was funny could not be -terrible, that to be happy could not be awful, and that people did not -die for something to eat.</p> - -<p>"Can one say that?" I used to ask them; but they jeered at me:</p> - -<p>"I say, what a teacher! Do you want your ears plucked?"</p> - -<p>But to talk of "plucking" ears also appeared incorrect to me. One could -"pluck" grass and flowers and nuts, but not ears. They tried to prove -to me that ears could be plucked, but they did not convince me, and I -said triumphantly:</p> - -<p>"Anyhow, you have not plucked my ears."</p> - -<p>All around me I saw much cruel insolence, filthy shamelessness. It was -far worse here than in the Kunavin streets, which were full of "houses -of resort" and "street-walkers." Beneath the filth and brutality in -Kunavin there was a something which made itself felt, and which seemed -to explain it all—a strenuous, half-starved existence and hard work. -But here they were overfed and led easy lives, and the work went on -its way without fuss or worry. A corrosive, fretting weariness brooded -over all.</p> - -<p>My life was hard enough, anyhow, but I felt it still harder when -grandmother came to see me. She would appear from the black flight of -steps, enter the kitchen, cross herself before the icon, and then bow -low to her younger sister. That bow bent me down like a heavy weight, -and seemed to smother me.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Akulina, is it you?" was my mistress's cold and negligent greeting -to grandmother.</p> - -<p>I should not have recognized grandmother. Her lips modestly compressed, -her face changed out of knowledge, she set herself quietly on a bench -near the door, keeping silence like a guilty creature, except when she -answered her sister softly and submissively. This was torture to me, -and I used to say angrily: "What are you sitting there for?"</p> - -<p>Winking at me kindly, she replied:</p> - -<p>"You be quiet. You are not master here.".</p> - -<p>"He is always meddling in matters which do not concern him, however we -beat him or scold him," and the mistress was launched on her complaints.</p> - -<p>She often asked her sister spitefully:</p> - -<p>"Well, Akulina, so you are living like a beggar?"</p> - -<p>"That is a misfortune."</p> - -<p>"It is no misfortune where there is no shame."</p> - -<p>"They say that Christ also lived on charity."</p> - -<p>"Blockheads say so, and heretics, and you, old fool, listen to them! -Christ was no beggar, but the Son of God. He will come, it is said, in -glory, to judge the quick and dead—and dead, mind you. You will not -be able to hide yourself from Him, Matushka, although you may be burned -to ashes. He is punishing you and Vassili now for your pride, and on my -account, because I asked help from you when you were rich."</p> - -<p>"And I helped you as much as it was in my power to do," answered -grandmother, calmly, "and God will pay us back, you know."</p> - -<p>"It was little enough you did, little enough."</p> - -<p>Grandmother was bored and worried by her sister's untiring tongue. I -listened to her squeaky voice and wondered how grandmother could put up -with it. In that moment I did not love her.</p> - -<p>The young mistress came out of her room and nodded affably to -grandmother.</p> - -<p>"Come into the dining-room. It is all right; come along!"</p> - -<p>The master would receive grandmother joyfully.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Akulina, wisest of all, how are you? Is old man Kashirin still -alive?"</p> - -<p>And grandmother would give him her most cordial smile.</p> - -<p>"Are you still working your hardest?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; always working, like a convict."</p> - -<p>Grandmother conversed with him affectionately and well, but in the tone -of a senior. Sometimes he called my mother to mind.</p> - -<p>"Ye-es, Varvara Vassilievna. What a woman! A heroine, eh?"</p> - -<p>His wife turned to grandmother and put in:</p> - -<p>"Do you remember my giving her that cloak—black silk trimmed with jet?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I do."</p> - -<p>"It was quite a good one."</p> - -<p>"Ye-es," muttered the master, "a cloak, a palm; and life is a -trickster."<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> A play on the words "<i>tal'ma,</i> cloak; <i>pal'ma,</i> palm; -<i>shelma,</i> trickster.</p></div> - -<p>"What are you talking about?" asked his wife, suspiciously.</p> - -<p>"I? Oh, nothing in particular. Happy days and good people soon pass -away."</p> - -<p>"I don't know what is the matter with you," said my mistress, uneasily.</p> - -<p>Then grandmother was taken to see the new baby, and while I was -clearing away the dirty cups and saucers from the table the master said -to me:</p> - -<p>"She is a good old woman, that grandmother of yours."</p> - -<p>I was deeply grateful to him for those words, and when I was alone with -grandmother, I said to her, with a pain in my heart:</p> - -<p>"Why do you come here? Why? Can't you see how they—".</p> - -<p>"Ach, Olesha, I see everything," she replied, looking at me with a kind -smile on her wonderful face, and I felt conscience-stricken. Why, of -course she saw everything and knew everything, even what was going on -in my soul at that moment. Looking round carefully to see that no one -was coming, she embraced me, saying feelingly:</p> - -<p>"I would not come here if it were not for you. What are they to me? -As a matter of fact, grandfather is ill, and I am tired with looking -after him. I have not been able to do any work, so I have no money, and -my son Mikhail has turned Sascha out. I have him now to give food and -drink, too. They promised to give you six rubles a month, and I don't -suppose you have had a ruble from them, and you have been here nearly -half a year." Then she whispered in my ear: "They say they have to -lecture you, scold you, they say that you do not obey; but, dear heart, -stay with them. Be patient for two short years while you grow strong. -You will be patient, yes?"</p> - -<p>I promised. It was very difficult. That life oppressed me; it was a -threadbare, depressing existence. The only excitement was about food, -and I lived as in a dream. Sometimes I thought that I would have to run -away, but the accursed winter had set in. Snow-storms raged by night, -the wind rushed over the top of the house, and the stanchions cracked -with the pressure of the frost. Whither could I run away?</p> - -<p>*</p> - -<p>They would not let me go out, and in truth it was no weather for -walking. The short winter day, full of the bustle of housework, passed -with elusive swiftness. But they made me go to church, on Saturday to -vespers and on Sunday to high mass.</p> - -<p>I liked being in church. Standing somewhere in a corner where there -was more room and where it was darker, I loved to gaze from a distance -at the iconastasis, which looked as if it were swimming in the -candlelight flowing in rich, broad streams over the floor of the -reading-desk. The dark figures of the icons moved gently, the gold -embroidery on the vestments of the priests quivered joyfully, the -candle flames burned in the dark-blue atmosphere like golden bees, -and the heads of the women and children looked like flowers. All the -surroundings seemed to blend harmoniously with the singing the choir. -Everything seemed to be imbued with the weird spirit of legends. The -church seemed to oscillate like a cradle, rocking in pitch-black space.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I imagined that the church was sunk deep in a lake in which -it lived, concealed, a life peculiar to itself, quite different from -any other form of life. I have no doubt now that this idea had its -source in grandmother's stories of the town of Kitej, and I often found -myself dreamily swaying, keeping time, as it were, with the movement -around me. Lulled into somnolence by the singing of the choir, the -murmur of prayers, the breath of the congregation, I concentrated -myself upon the melodious, melancholy story:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"They are closing upon us, the accursed Tatars.<br /> -Yes, these unclean beasts are closing in upon Kite;<br /> -The glorious; yea, at the holy hour of matins.<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O Lord, our God!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Holy Mother of God!</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Save Thy servants</span><br /> -To sing their morning praises,<br /> -To listen to the holy chants!<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Oi,</i> let not the Tatars</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jeer at holy church;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let them not put to shame</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our women and maidens;</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seize the little maids to be their toys,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the old men to be put to a cruel death!</span><br /> -And the God of Sabaoth heard,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Holy Mother heard,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These human sighs,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">These Christians' plaints.</span><br /> -And He said, the Lord of Sabaoth,<br /> -To the Holy Angel Michael,<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Go thou, Michael,</span><br /> -Make the earth shake under Kite;;<br /> -Let Kite; sink into the lake!'<br /> -And there to this day<br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The people do pray,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Never resting, and never weary</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From matins to vespers,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through all the holy offices,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forever and evermore!"</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>At that time my head was full of grandmother's poetry, as full as a -beehive of honey. I used even to think in verse.</p> - -<p>I did not pray in church. I felt ashamed to utter the angry prayers -and psalms of lamentation of grandfather's God in the presence of -grandmother's God, Who, I felt sure, could take no more pleasure in -them than I did myself, for the simple reason that they were all -printed in books, and of course He knew them all by heart, as did all -people of education. And this is why, when my heart was oppressed by -a gentle grief or irritated by the petty grievances of every day, -I tried to make up prayers for myself. And when I began to think -about my uncongenial work, the words seemed to form themselves into a -complaint without any effort on my part:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Lord, Lord! I am very miserable!<br /> -Oh, let me grow up quickly,<br /> -For this life I can't endure.<br /> -O Lord, forgive!<br /> -From my studies I get no benefit,<br /> -For that devil's puppet, Granny Matrena,<br /> -Howls at me like a wolf,<br /> -And my life is very bitter!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>To this day I can remember some of these prayers. The workings of the -brain in childhood leave a very deep impression; often they influence -one's whole life.</p> - -<p>I liked being in church; I could rest there as I rested in the forests -and fields. My small heart, which was already familiar with grief and -soiled by the mire of a coarse life, laved itself in hazy, ardent -dreams. But I went to church only during the hard frosts, or when a -snow-storm swept wildly up the streets, when it seemed as if the very -sky were frozen, and the wind swept across it with a cloud of snow, and -the earth lay frozen under the snow-drifts as if it would never live -again.</p> - -<p>When the nights were milder I used to like to wander through the -streets of the town, creeping along by all the darkest corners. -Sometimes I seemed to walk as if I had wings, flying along like the -moon in the sky. My shadow crept in front of me, extinguishing the -sparkles of light in the snow, bobbing up and down comically. The night -watchman patrolled the streets, rattle in hand, clothed in a heavy -sheepskin, his dog at his side. Vague outlines of people came out of -yards and flitted along the streets, and the dog gave chase. Sometimes -I met gay young ladies with their escorts. I had an idea that they also -were playing truant from vespers.</p> - -<p>Sometimes through a lighted <i>fortochka</i><a name="FNanchor_1_2" id="FNanchor_1_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_2" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> there came a peculiar -smell, faint, unfamiliar, suggestive of a kind of life of which I was -ignorant. I used to stand under the windows and inhale it, trying to -guess what it was to live like the people in such a house lived. It was -the hour of vespers, and yet they were singing merrily, laughing, and -playing on a sort of guitar. The deep, stringy sound flowed through the -<i>fortochka.</i></p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_2" id="Footnote_1_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_2"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> A small square of glass in the double window which is set -on hinges and serves as a ventilator.</p></div> - -<p>Of special interest to me were the one-storied, dwarfed houses at -the corners of the deserted streets, Tikhonovski and Martinovski. -I stood there on a moonlight night in mid-Lent and listened to the -weird sounds—it sounded as if some one were singing loudly with his -mouth closed—which floated out through the <i>fortochka</i> together with -a warm steam. The words were indistinguishable, but the song seemed -to be familiar and intelligible to me; but when I listened to that, -I could not hear the stringy sound which languidly interrupted the -flow of song. I sat on the curbstone thinking what a wonderful melody -was being played on some sort of insupportable violin—insupportable -because it hurt me to listen to it. Sometimes they sang so loudly that -the whole house seemed to shake, and the panes of the windows rattled. -Like tears, drops fell from the roof, and from my eyes also.</p> - -<p>The night watchman had come close to me without my being aware of it, -and, pushing me off the curbstone, said:</p> - -<p>"What are you stuck here for?"</p> - -<p>"The music," I explained.</p> - -<p>"A likely tale! Be off now!"</p> - -<p>I ran quickly round the houses and returned to my place under the -window, but they were not playing now. From the <i>fortochka</i> proceeded -sounds of revelry, and it was so unlike the sad music that I thought I -must be dreaming. I got into the habit of running to this house every -Saturday, but only once, and that was in the spring, did I hear the -violoncello again, and then it played without a break till midnight. -When I reached home I got a thrashing.</p> - -<p>These walks at night beneath the winter sky through the deserted -streets of the town enriched me greatly. I purposely chose streets -far removed from the center, where there were many lamps, and friends -of my master who might have recognized me. Then he would find out how -I played truant from vespers. No "drunkards," "street-walkers," or -policemen interfered with me in the more remote streets, and I could -see into the rooms of the lower floors if the windows were not frozen -over or curtained.</p> - -<p>Many and diverse were the pictures which I saw through those windows. I -saw people praying, kissing, quarreling, playing cards, talking busily -and soundlessly the while. It was a cheap panoramic show representing a -dumb, fish-like life.</p> - -<p>I saw in one basement room two women, a young one and another who was -her senior, seated at a table; opposite them sat a school-boy reading -to them. The younger woman listened with puckered brows, leaning -back in her chair; but the elder, who was thin, with luxuriant hair, -suddenly covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders heaved. The -school-boy threw down the book, and when the younger woman had sprung -to her feet and gone away, he fell on his knees before the woman with -the lovely hair and began to kiss her hands.</p> - -<p>Through another window I saw a large, bearded man with a woman in a red -blouse sitting on his knee. He was rocking her as if she had been a -baby, and was evidently singing something, opening his mouth wide and -rolling his eyes. The woman was shaking with laughter, throwing herself -backward and swinging her feet. He made her sit up straight again, and -again began to sing, and again she burst out laughing. I gazed at them -for a long time, and went away only when I realized that they meant to -keep up their merriment all night.</p> - -<p>There were many pictures of this kind which will always remain in -my memory, and often I was so attracted by them that I was late in -returning home. This aroused the suspicions of my employers, who asked -me:</p> - -<p>"What church did you go to? Who was the officiating priest?"</p> - -<p>They knew all the priests of the town; they knew what gospel would be -read, in fact, they knew everything. It was easy for them to catch me -in a lie.</p> - -<p>Both women worshiped the wrathful God of my grandfather—the God Who -demanded that we should approach Him in fear. His name was ever on -their lips; even in their quarrels they threatened one another:</p> - -<p>"Wait! God will punish you! He will plague you for this! Just wait!"</p> - -<p>On the Sunday in the first week of Lent, the old woman cooked some -butters and burned them all. Flushed with the heat of the stove, she -cried angrily:</p> - -<p>"The devil take you!" And suddenly, sniffing at the frying-pan, her -face grew dark, and she threw the utensil on the floor and moaned: -"Bless me, the pan has been used for flesh food! It is unclean! It did -not catch when I used it clean on Monday."</p> - -<p>Falling on her knees, she entreated with tears: "Lord God, Father, -forgive me, accursed that I am! For the sake of Thy sufferings and -passion forgive me! Do not punish an old fool, Lord!"</p> - -<p>The burned fritters were given to the dog, the pan was destroyed, but -the young wife began to reproach her mother-in-law in their quarrels.</p> - -<p>"You actually cooked fritters in Lent in a pan which had been used for -flesh-meat."</p> - -<p>They dragged their God into all the household affairs, into every -corner of their petty, insipid lives, and thus their wretched life -acquired outward significance and importance, as if every hour was -devoted to the service of a Higher Power. The dragging of God into all -this dull emptiness oppressed me, and I used to look involuntarily into -the corners, aware of being observed by invisible beings, and at night -I was wrapped in a cloud of fear. It came from the corner where the -ever-burning lamp flickered before the icon.</p> - -<p>On a level with this shelf was a large window with two sashes joined by -a stanchion. Fathomless, deep-blue space looked into the window, and if -one made a quick movement, everything became merged in this deep-blue -gulf, and floated out to the stars, into the deathly stillness, without -a sound, just as a stone sinks when it is thrown into the water.</p> - -<p>I do not remember how I cured myself of this terror, but I did cure -myself, and that soon. Grandmother's good God helped me, and I think it -was then that I realized the simple truth, namely, that no harm could -come to me; that I should not be punished without fault of my own; that -it was not the law of life that the innocent should suffer; and that I -was not responsible for the faults of others.</p> - -<p>I played truant from mass too, especially in the spring, the -irresistible force of which would not let me go to church. If I had a -seven-copeck piece given me for the collection, it was my destruction. -I bought hucklebones, played all the time mass was going on, and was -inevitably late home. And one day I was clever enough to lose all the -coins which had been given me for prayers for the dead and the blessed -bread, so that I had to take some one else's portion when the priest -came from the altar and handed it round.</p> - -<p>I was terribly fond of gambling, and it became a craze with me. I was -skilful enough, and strong, and I swiftly gained renown in games of -hucklebones, billiards, and skittles in the neighboring streets.</p> - -<p>During Lent I was ordered to prepare for communion, and I went to -confession to our neighbor Father Dorimedont Pokrovski. I regarded him -as a hard man, and had committed many sins against him personally. I -had thrown stones at the summer-house in his garden, and had quarreled -with his children. In fact he might call to mind, if he chose, many -similar acts annoying to him. This made me feel very uneasy, and when I -stood in the poor little church awaiting my turn to go to confession my -heart throbbed tremulously.</p> - -<p>But Father Dorimedont greeted me with a good-natured, grumbling -exclamation.</p> - -<p>"Ah, it is my neighbor! Well, kneel down! What sins have you committed?"</p> - -<p>He covered my head with a heavy velvet cloth. I inhaled the odor of -wax and incense. It was difficult to speak, and I felt reluctant to do -so.</p> - -<p>"Have you been obedient to your elders?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Say, 'I have sinned.'"</p> - -<p>To my own surprise I let fall:</p> - -<p>"I have stolen."</p> - -<p>"How was that? Where?" asked the priest, thoughtfully and without haste.</p> - -<p>"At the church of the three bishops, at Pokrov, and at Nikoli."</p> - -<p>"Well, that is in all the churches. That was wrong, my child; it was a -sin. Do you understand?"</p> - -<p>"I understand."</p> - -<p>"Say, 'I have sinned.' What did you steal for? Was it for something to -eat?"</p> - -<p>"Sometimes and sometimes it was because I had lost money at play, and, -as I had to take home some blessed bread, I stole it."</p> - -<p>Father Dorimedont whispered something indistinctly and wearily, and -then, after a few more questions, suddenly inquired sternly:</p> - -<p>"Have you been reading forbidden books?"</p> - -<p>Naturally I did not understand this question, and I asked:</p> - -<p>"What books do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Forbidden books. Have you been reading any?"</p> - -<p>"No; not one."</p> - -<p>"Your sins are remitted. Stand up!"</p> - -<p>I glanced at his face in amazement. He looked thoughtful and kind. -I felt uneasy, conscience-stricken. In sending me to confession, my -employers had spoken about its terrors, impressing on me to confess -honestly even my slightest sins.</p> - -<p>"I have thrown stones at your summer-house," I deposed.</p> - -<p>The priest raised his head and, looking past me, said:</p> - -<p>"That was very wrong. Now go!"</p> - -<p>"And at your dog."</p> - -<p>"Next!" called out Father Dorimedont, still looking past me.</p> - -<p>I came away feeling deceived and offended. To be put to all that -anxiety about the terrors of confession, and to find, after all, that -it was not only far from terrible, but also uninteresting! The only -interesting thing about it was the question about the forbidden books, -of which I knew nothing. I remembered the school-boy reading to the -women in that basement room, and "Good Business," who also had many -black, thick books, with unintelligible illustrations.</p> - -<p>The next day they gave me fifteen copecks and sent me to communion. -Easter was late. The snow had been melted a long time, the streets -were dry, the roadways sent up a cloud of dust, and the day was -sunny and cheerful. Near the church was a group of workmen gambling -with hucklebones. I decided that there was plenty of time to go to -communion, and asked if I might join in.</p> - -<p>"Let me play."</p> - -<p>"The entrance-fee is one copeck," said a pock-marked, ruddy-faced man, -proudly.</p> - -<p>Not less proudly I replied:</p> - -<p>"I put three on the second pair to the left."</p> - -<p>"The stakes are on!" And the game began.</p> - -<p>I changed the fifteen-copeck piece and placed my three copecks on the -pair of hucklebones. Whoever hit that pair would receive that money, -but if he failed to hit them, he had to give me three copecks. I was -in luck. Two of them took aim and lost. I had won six copecks from -grown-up men. My spirits rose greatly. But one of the players remarked:</p> - -<p>"You had better look out for that youngster or he will be running away -with his winnings."</p> - -<p>This I regarded as an insult, and I said hotly: "Nine copecks on the -pair at the extreme left." However, this did not make much impression -on the players. Only one lad of my own age cried:</p> - -<p>"See how lucky he is, that little devil from the Zvezdrinki; I know -him."</p> - -<p>A thin workman who smelt like a furrier said maliciously:</p> - -<p>"He is a little devil, is he? Goo-oo-ood!"</p> - -<p>Taking a sudden aim, he coolly knocked over my stake, and, bending down -to me, said:</p> - -<p>"Will that make you howl?"</p> - -<p>"Three copecks on the pair to the right!"</p> - -<p>"I shall have another three," he said, but he lost.</p> - -<p>One could not put money on the same "horse" more than three times -running, so I chose other hucklebones and won four more copecks. I had -a heap of hucklebones. But when my turn came again, I placed money -three times, and lost it all. Simultaneously mass was finished, the -bell rang, and the people came out of church.</p> - -<p>"Are you married?" inquired the furrier, intending to seize me by the -hair; but I eluded him, and overtaking a lad in his Sunday clothes I -inquired politely:</p> - -<p>"Have you been to communion?"</p> - -<p>"Well, and suppose I have; what then?" he answered, looking at me -contemptuously.</p> - -<p>I asked him to tell me how people took communion, what words the priest -said, and what I ought to have done.</p> - -<p>The young fellow shook me roughly and roared out in a terrifying voice:</p> - -<p>"You have played the truant from communion, you heretic! Well, I am not -going to tell you anything. Let your father skin you for it!"</p> - -<p>I ran home expecting to be questioned, and certain that they would -discover that I had not been to communion; but after congratulating me, -the old woman asked only one question:</p> - -<p>"How much did you give to the clerk? Much?"</p> - -<p>"Five copecks," I answered, without turning a hair.</p> - -<p>"And three copecks for himself; that would leave you seven copecks, -animal!"</p> - -<p>It was springtime. Each succeeding spring was clothed differently, and -seemed brighter and pleasanter than the preceding one. The young grass -and the fresh green birch gave forth an intoxicating odor. I had an -uncontrollable desire to loiter in the fields and listen to the lark, -lying face downward on the warm earth; but I had to clean the winter -coats and help to put them away in the trunks, to cut up leaf tobacco, -and dust the furniture, and to occupy myself from morning till night -with duties which were to me both unpleasant and needless.</p> - -<p>In my free hours I had absolutely nothing to live for. In our wretched -street there was nothing, and beyond that I was not allowed to go. The -yard was full of cross, tired workmen, untidy cooks, and washerwomen, -and every evening I saw disgusting sights so offensive to me that I -wished that I was blind.</p> - -<p>I went up into the attic, taking some scissors and some colored paper -with me, and cut out some lacelike designs with which I ornamented the -rafters. It was, at any rate, something on which my sorrow could feed. -I longed with all my heart to go to some place where people slept less, -quarreled less, and did not so wearisomely beset God with complaints, -and did not so frequently offend people with their harsh judgments.</p> - -<p>On the Saturday after Easter they brought the miraculous icon of Our -Lady of Vlandimirski from the Oranski Monastery to the town. The image -became the guest of the town for half of the month of June, and blessed -all the dwellings of those who attended the church. It was brought to -my employers' house on a week-day. I was cleaning the copper things in -the kitchen when the young mistress cried out in a scared voice from -her room:</p> - -<p>"Open the front door. They are bringing the Oranski icon here."</p> - -<p>I rushed down, very dirty, and with greasy hands as rough as a brick -opened the door. A young man with a lamp in one hand and a thurible in -the other grumbled gently:</p> - -<p>"Are you all asleep? Give a hand here!"</p> - -<p>Two of the inhabitants carried the heavy icon-case up the narrow -staircase. I helped them by supporting the edge, of it with my dirty -hands and my shoulder. The monk came heavily behind me, chanting -unwillingly with his thick voice:</p> - -<p>"Holy Mother of God, pray for us!"</p> - -<p>I thought, with sorrowful conviction:</p> - -<p>"She is angry with me because I have touched her with dirty hands, and -she will cause my hands to wither."</p> - -<p>They placed the icon in the corner of the antichamber on two chairs, -which were covered with a clean sheet, and on each side of it stood two -monks, young and beautiful like angels. They had bright eyes, joyful -expressions, and lovely hair.</p> - -<p>Prayers were said.</p> - -<p>"O, Mother Renowned," the big priest chanted, and all the while he was -feeling the swollen lobe of his ear, which was hidden in his luxuriant -hair.</p> - -<p>"Holy Mother of God, pray for u-u-us!" sang the monks, wearily.</p> - -<p>I loved the Holy Virgin. According to grandmother's stories it was -she who sowed on the earth, for the consolation of the poor, all -the flowers, all the joys, every blessing and beauty. And when the -time came to salute her, without observing how the adults conducted -themselves toward her, I kissed the icon palpitatingly on the face, -the lips. Some one with powerful hands hurled me to the door. I do not -remember seeing the monks go away, carrying the icon, but I remember -very well how my employers sat on the floor around me and debated with -much fear and anxiety what would become of me.</p> - -<p>"We shall have to speak to the priest about him and have him taught," -said the master, who scolded me without rancor.</p> - -<p>"Ignoramus! How is it that you did not know that you should not kiss -the lips? You must have been taught that at school."</p> - -<p>For several days I waited, resigned, wondering what actually would -happen to me. I had touched the icon with dirty hands; I had saluted it -in a forbidden manner; I should not be allowed to go unpunished.</p> - -<p>But apparently the Mother of God forgave the involuntary sin which had -been prompted by sheer love, or else her punishment was so light that -I did not notice it among the frequent punishments meted out to me by -these good people.</p> - -<p>Sometimes, to annoy the old mistress, I said compunctiously:</p> - -<p>"But the Holy Virgin has evidently forgotten to punish me."</p> - -<p>"You wait," answered the old woman, maliciously. "We shall see."</p> - -<p>While I decorated the rafters of the attic with pink tea-wrappers, -silver paper, leaves from trees, and all kinds of things, I used to -sing anything that came into my head, setting the words to church -melodies, as the Kalmucks do on the roads.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"I am sitting in the attic<br /> -With scissors in my hand,<br /> -Cutting paper—paper.<br /> -A dunce am I, and dull.<br /> -If I were a dog,<br /> -I could run where'er I wished;<br /> -But now they all cry out to me:<br /> -'Sit down! Be silent, rogue,<br /> -While your skin is whole!'"<br /> -</p> - -<p>The old woman came to look at my work, and burst out laughing.</p> - -<p>"You should decorate the kitchen like that."</p> - -<p>One day the master came up to the attic, looked at my performance, and -said, with a sigh:</p> - -<p>"You are an amusing fellow, Pyeshkov; the devil you are? I wonder what -you will become, a conjurer or what? One can't guess." And he gave me a -large Nikolaivski five-copeck piece.</p> - -<p>By means of a thin wire I fastened the coin in the most prominent -position among my works of art. In the course of a few days it -disappeared. I believe that the old woman took it.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h5> - - -<p>However, I did run away in the spring. One morning when I went to the -shop for bread the shopkeeper, continuing in my presence a quarrel with -his wife, struck her on the forehead with a weight. She ran into the -street, and there fell down. People began to gather round at once. The -woman was laid on a stretcher and carried to the hospital, and I ran -behind the cab which took her there without noticing where I was going -till I found myself on the banks of the Volga, with two <i>grevens</i> in my -hand.</p> - -<p>The spring sun shone caressingly, the broad expanse of the Volga flowed -before me, the earth was full of sound and spacious, and I had been -living like a mouse in a trap. So I made up my mind that I would not -return to my master, nor would I go to grandmother at Kunavin; for as -I had not kept my word to her, I was ashamed to go and see her, and -grandfather would only gloat over my misfortunes.</p> - -<p>For two or three days I wandered by the river-side, being fed by -kind-hearted porters, and sleeping with them in their shelters. At -length one of them said to me:</p> - -<p>"It is no use for you to hang about here, my boy. I can see that. Go -over to the boat which is called <i>The Good.</i> They want a washer-up."</p> - -<p>I went. The tall, bearded steward in a black silk skullcap looked at -me through his glasses with his dim eyes, and said quietly:</p> - -<p>"Two rubles a month. Your passport?"</p> - -<p>I had no passport. The steward pondered and then said:</p> - -<p>"Bring your mother to see me."</p> - -<p>I rushed to grandmother. She approved the course I had taken, told -grandfather to go to the workman's court and get me a passport, and she -herself accompanied me to the boat.</p> - -<p>"Good!" said the steward, looking at us. "Come along."</p> - -<p>He then took me to the stern of the boat, where sat at a small table, -drinking tea and smoking a fat cigar at the same time, an enormous cook -in white overalls and a white cap. The steward pushed me toward him.</p> - -<p>"The washer-up."</p> - -<p>Then he went away, and the cook, snorting, and with his black mustache -bristling, called after him:</p> - -<p>"You engage any sort of devil as long as he is cheap."</p> - -<p>Angrily tossing his head of closely cropped hair, he opened his dark -eyes very wide, stretched himself, puffed, and cried shrilly:</p> - -<p>"And who may you be?"</p> - -<p>I did not like the appearance of this man at all. Although he was all -in white, he looked dirty. There was a sort of wool growing on his -fingers, and hairs stuck out of his great ears.</p> - -<p>"I am hungry," was my reply to him.</p> - -<p>He blinked, and suddenly his ferocious countenance was transformed by -a broad smile. His fat, brick-red cheeks widened to his very ears; he -displayed his large, equine teeth; his mustache drooped, and all at -once he had assumed the appearance of a kind, fat woman.</p> - -<p>Throwing the tea overboard out of his glass, he poured out a fresh lot -for me, and pushed a French roll and a large piece of sausage toward me.</p> - -<p>"Peg away! Are your parents living? Can you steal? You needn't be -afraid; they are all thieves here. You will soon learn."</p> - -<p>He talked as if he were barking. His enormous, blue, clean-shaven face -was covered all round the nose with red veins closely set together, -his swollen, purple nose hung over his mustache. His lower lip was -disfiguringly pendulous. In the corner of his mouth was stuck a smoking -cigarette. Apparently he had only just come from the bath. He smelt of -birch twigs, and a profuse sweat glistened on his temples and neck.</p> - -<p>After I had drunk my tea, he gave me a ruble-note.</p> - -<p>"Run along and buy yourself two aprons with this. Wait! I will buy them -for you myself."</p> - -<p>He set his cap straight and came with me, swaying ponderously, his feet -pattering on the deck like those of a bear.</p> - -<p>At night the moon shone brightly as it glided away from the boat to the -meadows on the left. The old red boat, with its streaked funnel, did -not hurry, and her propeller splashed unevenly in the silvery water. -The dark shore gently floated to meet her, casting its shadow on the -water, and beyond, the windows of the peasant huts gleamed charmingly. -They were singing in the village. The girls were merry-making and -singing—and when they sang "Aie Ludi," it sounded like "Alleluia."</p> - -<p>In the wake of the steamer a large barge, also red, was being towed by -a long rope. The deck was railed in like an iron cage, and in this cage -were convicts condemned to deportation or prison. On the prow of the -barge the bayonet of a sentry shone like a candle. It was quiet on the -barge itself. The moon bathed it in a rich light while behind the black -iron grating could be seen dimly gray patches. These were the convicts -looking out on the Volga. The water sobbed, now weeping, now laughing -timidly. It was as quiet here as in church, and there was the same -smell of oil.</p> - -<p>As I looked at the barge I remembered my early childhood; the journey -from Astrakhan to Nijni, the iron faces of mother and grandmother, the -person who had introduced me to this interesting, though hard, life, in -the world. And when I thought of grandmother, all that I found so bad -and repulsive in life seemed to leave me; everything was transformed -and became more interesting, pleasanter; people seemed to be better and -nicer altogether.</p> - -<p>The beauty of the nights moved me almost to tears, and especially the -barge, which looked so like a coffin, and so solitary on the broad -expanse of the flowing river in the pensive quietness of the warm -night. The uneven lines of the shore, now rising, now falling, stirred -the imagination pleasantly. I longed to be good, and to be of use to -others.</p> - -<p>The people on our steamboat had a peculiar stamp. They seemed to me to -be all alike, young and old, men and women. The boat traveled slowly. -The busy folk traveled by fast boat, and all the lazy rascals came on -our boat. They sang and ate, and soiled any amount of cups and plates, -knives and forks and spoons from morning to night. My work was to -wash up and clean the knives and forks, and I was busy with this work -from six in the morning till close on midnight. During the day, from -two till six o'clock, and in the evening, from ten till midnight, I -had less work to do; for at those times the passengers took a rest -from eating, and only drank, tea, beer, and vodka. All the buffet -attendants, my chiefs, were free at that time, too. The cook, Smouri, -drank tea at a table near the hatchway with his assistant, Jaakov -Ivanich; the kitchen-man, Maxim; and Sergei, the saloon steward, a -humpback with high cheek-bones, a face pitted with smallpox, and oily -eyes. Jaakov told all sorts of nasty stories, bursting out into sobbing -laughs and showing his long, discolored teeth. Sergei stretched his -frog-like mouth to his ears. Frowning Maxim was silent, gazing at them -with stern, colorless eyes.</p> - -<p>"Asiatic! Mordovan!" said the old cook now and again in his deep voice.</p> - -<p>I did not like these people. Fat, bald Jaakov Ivanich spoke of nothing -but women, and that always filthily. He had a vacant-looking face -covered with bluish pimples. On one cheek he had a mole with a tuft of -red hair growing from it. He used to pull out these hairs by twisting -them round a needle. Whenever an amiable, sprightly passenger of the -female sex appeared on the boat, he waited upon her in a peculiar, -timid manner like a beggar. He spoke to her sweetly and plaintively, -he licked her, as it were, with the swift movements of his tongue. For -some reason I used to think that such great fat creatures ought to be -hang-men.</p> - -<p>"One should know how to get round women," he would teach Sergei and -Maxim, who would listen to him much impressed, pouting their lips and -turning red.</p> - -<p>"Asiatics!" Smouri would roar in accents of disgust, and standing up -heavily, he gave the order, "Pyeshkov, march!"</p> - -<p>In his cabin he would hand me a little book bound in leather, and lie -down in his hammock by the wall of the ice-house.</p> - -<p>"Read!" he would say.</p> - -<p>I sat on a box and read conscientiously:</p> - -<p>"'The <i>umbra</i> projected by the stars means that one is on good terms -with heaven and free from profanity and vice.'"</p> - -<p>Smouri, smoking a cigarette, puffed out the smoke and growled:</p> - -<p>"Camels! They wrote—"</p> - -<p>"'Baring the left bosom means innocence of heart.'" "Whose bosom?"</p> - -<p>"It does not say."</p> - -<p>"A woman's, it means. Eh, and a loose woman."</p> - -<p>He closed his eyes and lay with his arms behind his head. His -cigarette, hardly alight, stuck in the corner of his mouth. He set -it straight with his tongue, stretched so that something whistled in -his chest, and his enormous face was enveloped in a cloud of smoke. -Sometimes I thought he had fallen asleep and I left off reading to -examine the accursed book, which bored me to nauseation. But he said -hoarsely: "Go on reading!"</p> - -<p>"'The venerable one answered, "Look! My dear brother Suvyerin—"'"</p> - -<p>"Syevyeverin—"</p> - -<p>"It is written Suvyerin."</p> - -<p>"Well, that's witchcraft. There is some poetry at the end. Run on from -there."</p> - -<p>I ran on.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Profane ones, curious to know our business,<br /> -Never will your weak eyes spy it out,<br /> -Nor will you learn how the fairies sing."<br /> -</p> - -<p>"Wait!" said Smouri. "That is not poetry. Give me the book."</p> - -<p>He angrily turned over the thick, blue leaves, and then put the book -under the mattress.</p> - -<p>"Get me another one."</p> - -<p>To my grief there were many books in his black trunk clamped with -iron. There were "Precepts of Peace," "Memories of the Artillery," -"Letters of Lord Sydanhall," "Concerning Noxious Insects and their -Extinction, with Advice against the Pest," books which seemed to have -no beginning and no end. Sometimes the cook set me to turn over all his -books and read out their titles to him, but as soon as I had begun he -called out angrily:</p> - -<p>"What is it all about? Why do you speak through your teeth? It is -impossible to understand you. What the devil has Gerbvase to do with -me? Gervase! <i>Umbra</i> indeed!"</p> - -<p>Terrible words, incomprehensible names were wearily remembered, and -they tickled my tongue. I had an incessant desire to repeat them, -thinking that perhaps by pronouncing them I might discover their -meaning. And outside the port-hole the water unweariedly sang and -splashed. It would have been pleasant to go to the stern, where the -sailors and stokers were gathered together among the chests, where the -passengers played cards, sang songs, and told interesting stories. -It would have been pleasant to sit among them and listen to simple, -intelligible conversation, to gaze on the banks of the Kama, at the -fir-trees drawn out like brass wires, at the meadows, wherein small -lakes remained from the floods, looking like pieces of broken glass as -they reflected the sun.</p> - -<p>Our steamer was traveling at some distance from the shore, yet the -sound of invisible bells came to us, reminding us of the villages and -people. The barks of the fishermen floated on the waves like crusts -of bread. There, on the bank a little village appeared, here a crowd -of small boys bathed in the river, men in red blouses could be seen -passing along a narrow strip of sand. Seen from a distance, from the -river, it was a very pleasing sight; everything looked like tiny toys -of many colors.</p> - -<p>I felt a desire to call out some kind, tender words to the shore and -the barge. The latter interested me greatly; I could look at it for an -hour at a time as it dipped its blunt nose in the turbid water. The -boat dragged it along as if it were a pig: the tow-rope, slackening, -lashed the water, then once more drew taut and pulled the barge along -by the nose. I wanted very much to see the faces of those people who -were kept like wild animals in an iron cage. At Perm, where they were -landed, I made my way to the gangway, and past me came, in batches of -ten, gray people, trampling dully, rattling their fetters, bowed down -by their heavy knapsacks. There were all sorts, young and old, handsome -and ugly, all exactly like ordinary people except that they were -differently dressed and were disfiguringly close-shaven. No doubt these -were robbers, but grandmother had told me much that was good about -robbers. Smouri looked much more like a fierce robber than they as he -glanced loweringly at the barge and said loudly:</p> - -<p>"Save me, God, from such a fate!"</p> - -<p>Once I asked him:</p> - -<p>"Why do you say that? You cook, while those others kill and steal."</p> - -<p>"I don't cook; I only prepare. The women cook," he said, bursting out -laughing; but after thinking a moment he added: "The difference between -one person and another lies in stupidity. One man is clever, another -not so clever, and a third may be quite a fool. To become clever one -must read the right books—black magic and what not. One must read all -kinds of books and then one will find the right ones."</p> - -<p>He was continually impressing upon me:</p> - -<p>"Read! When you don't understand a book, read it again and again, as -many as seven times; and if you do not understand it then, read it a -dozen times."</p> - -<p>To every one on the boat, not excluding the taciturn steward, Smouri -spoke roughly. Sticking out his lower lip as if he were disgusted, -and, stroking his mustache, he pelted them with words as if they were -stones. To me he always showed kindness and interest, but there was -something about his interest which rather frightened me. Sometimes I -thought he was crazy, like grandmother's sister. At times he said to me:</p> - -<p>"Leave off reading."</p> - -<p>And he would lie for a long time with closed eyes, breathing -stertorously, his great stomach shaking. His hairy fingers, folded -corpse-like on his chest, moved, knitting invisible socks with -invisible needles. Suddenly he would begin growling:</p> - -<p>"Here are you! You have your intelligence. Go and live! Rut -intelligence is given sparingly, and not to all alike. If all were -on the same level intellectually—but they are not. One understands, -another does not, and there are some people who do not even wish to -understand!"</p> - -<p>Stumbling over his words, he related stories of his life as a soldier, -the drift of which I could never manage to catch. They seemed very -uninteresting to me. Besides, he did not tell them from the beginning, -but as he recollected them.</p> - -<p>"The commander of the regiment called this soldier to him and asked: -'What did the lieutenant say to you?' So he told everything just as it -had happened—a soldier is bound to tell the truth—but the lieutenant -looked at him as if he had been a wall, and then turned away, hanging -his head. Yes—"</p> - -<p>He became indignant, puffed out clouds of smoke, and growled:</p> - -<p>"How was I to know what I could say and what I ought not to say? Then -the lieutenant was condemned to be shut up in a fortress, and his -mother said—ah, my God! I am not learned in anything."</p> - -<p>It was hot. Everything seemed to be quivering and tinkling. The water -splashed against the iron walls of the cabin, and the wheel of the boat -rose and fell. The river flowed in a broad stream between the rows of -lights. In the distance could be seen the line of the meadowed bank. -The trees drooped. When one's hearing had become accustomed to all the -sounds, it seemed as if all was quiet, although the soldiers in the -stern of the boat howled dismally, "Se-e-even! Se-e-ven!"</p> - -<p>I had no desire to take part in anything. I wanted neither to listen -nor to work, but only to sit somewhere in the shadows, where there was -no greasy, hot smell of cooking; to sit and gaze, half asleep, at the -quiet, sluggish life as it slipped away on the water.</p> - -<p>"Read!" the cook commanded harshly.</p> - -<p>Even the head steward was afraid of him, and that mild man of few -words, the dining-room steward, who looked like a <i>sandre</i>, was -evidently afraid of Smouri too.</p> - -<p><i>"Ei!</i> You swine!" he would cry to this man. "Come here! Thief! -Asiatic!"</p> - -<p>The sailors and stokers were very respectful to him, and expectant -of favors. He gave them the meat from which soup had been made, and -inquired after their homes and their families. The oily and smoke-dried -White Russian stokers were counted the lowest people on the boat. They -were all called by one name, Yaks, and they were teased, "Like a Yak, I -amble along the shore."</p> - -<p>When Smouri heard this, he bristled up, his face became suffused with -blood, and he roared at the stokers:</p> - -<p>"Why do you allow them to laugh at you, you mugs? Throw some sauce in -their faces."</p> - -<p>Once the boatswain, a handsome, but ill-natured, man, said to him:</p> - -<p>"They are the same as Little Russians; they hold the same faith."</p> - -<p>The cook seized him by the collar and belt, lifted him up in the air, -and said, shaking him:</p> - -<p>"Shall I knock you to smithereens?"</p> - -<p>They quarreled often, these two. Sometimes it even came to a fight, but -Smouri was never beaten. He was possessed of superhuman strength, and -besides this, the captain's wife, with a masculine face and smooth hair -like a boy's, was on his side.</p> - -<p>He drank a terrible amount of vodka, but never became drunk. He began -to drink the first thing in the morning, consuming a whole bottle in -four gulps, and after that he sipped beer till close on evening. His -face gradually grew brown, his eyes widened.</p> - -<p>Sometimes in the evening he sat for hours in the hatchway, looking -large and white, without breaking his silence, and his eyes were -fixed gloomily on the distant horizon. At those times they were all -more afraid of him than ever, but I was sorry for him. Jaakov Ivanich -would come out from the kitchen, perspiring and glowing with the heat. -Scratching his bald skull and waving his arm, he would take cover or -say from a distance:</p> - -<p>"The fish has gone off."</p> - -<p>"Well, there is the salted cabbage."</p> - -<p>"But if they ask for fish-soup or boiled fish?"</p> - -<p>"It is ready. They can begin gobbling."</p> - -<p>Sometimes I plucked up courage to go to him. He looked at me heavily.</p> - -<p>"What do you want?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing."</p> - -<p>"Good.".</p> - -<p>On one of these occasions, however, I asked him:</p> - -<p>"Why is every one afraid of you? For you are good."</p> - -<p>Contrary to my expectations, he did not get angry.</p> - -<p>"I am only good to you."</p> - -<p>But he added distinctly, simply, and thoughtfully:</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is true that I am good to every one, only I do not show it. It -does not do to show that to people, or they will be all over you. They -will crawl over those who are kind as if they were mounds in a morass, -and trample on them. Go and get me some beer."</p> - -<p>Having drunk the bottle, he sucked his mustache and said:</p> - -<p>"If you were older, my bird, I could teach you a lot. I have something -to say to a man. I am no fool. But you must read books. In them you -will find all you need. They are not rubbish—books. Would you like -some beer?"</p> - -<p>"I don't care for it."</p> - -<p>"Good boy! And you do well not to drink it. Drunkenness is a -misfortune. Vodka is the devil's own business. If I were rich, I would -spur you on to study. An uninstructed man is an ox, fit for nothing but -the yoke or to serve as meat. All he can do is to wave his tail."</p> - -<p>The captain's wife gave him a volume of Gogol. I read "The Terrible -Vengeance" and was delighted with it, but Smouri cried angrily:</p> - -<p>"Rubbish! A fairy-tale! I know. There are other books."</p> - -<p>He took the book away from me, obtained another one from the captain's -wife, and ordered me harshly:</p> - -<p>"Read Tarass'—what do you call it? Find it! She says it is good; good -for whom? It may be good for her, but not for me, eh? She cuts her hair -short. It is a pity her ears were not cut off too."</p> - -<p>When <i>Tarass</i> called upon <i>Ostap</i> to fight, the cook laughed loudly.</p> - -<p>"That's the way! Of course! You have learning, but I have strength. -What do they say about it? Camels!"</p> - -<p>He listened with great attention, but often grumbled:</p> - -<p>"Rubbish! You could n't cut a man in half from his shoulders to his -haunches; it can't be done. And you can't thrust a pike upward; it -would break it. I have been a soldier myself."</p> - -<p>Andrei's treachery aroused his disgust.</p> - -<p>'There's a mean creature, eh? Like women! <i>Tfoo!</i></p> - -<p>But when <i>Tarass</i> killed his son, the cook let his feet slip from the -hammock, bent himself double, and wept. The tears trickled down his -cheeks, splashed upon the deck as he breathed stertorously and muttered:</p> - -<p>"Oh, my God! my God!"</p> - -<p>And suddenly he shouted to me:</p> - -<p>"Go on reading, you bone of the devil!"</p> - -<p>Again he wept, with even more violence and bitterness, when I read how -<i>Ostap</i> cried, out before his death, "Father, dost thou hear?"</p> - -<p>"Ruined utterly!" exclaimed Smouri. "Utterly! Is that the end? <i>Ekh!</i> -What an accursed business! He was a man, that <i>Tar ass.</i> What do you -think? Yes, he was a man."</p> - -<p>He took the book out of my hands and looked at it with attention, -letting his tears fall on its binding.</p> - -<p>"It is a fine book, a regular treat."</p> - -<p>After this we read "Ivanhoe." Smouri was very pleased with Richard -Plantagenet.</p> - -<p>"That was a real king," he said impressively.</p> - -<p>To me the book had appeared dry. In fact, our tastes did not agree -at all. I had a great liking for "The Story of Thomas Jones," an old -translation of "The History of Tom Jones, Foundling," but Smouri -grumbled:</p> - -<p>"Rubbish! What do I care about your Thomas? Of what use is he to me? -There must be some other books."</p> - -<p>One day I told him that I knew that there were other books, forbidden -books. One could read them only at night, in underground rooms. He -opened his eyes wide.</p> - -<p>"Wha-a-t's that? Why do you tell me these lies?"</p> - -<p>"I am not telling lies. The priest asked me about them when I went to -confession, and, for that matter, I myself have seen people reading -them and crying over them."</p> - -<p>The cook looked sternly in my face and asked:</p> - -<p>"Who was crying?"</p> - -<p>"The lady who was listening, and the other actually ran away because -she was frightened."</p> - -<p>"You were asleep. You were dreaming," said Smouri, slowly covering his -eyes, and after a silence he muttered: "But of course there must be -something hidden from me somewhere. I am not so old as all that, and -with my character—well, however that may be—"</p> - -<p>He spoke to me eloquently for a whole hour.</p> - -<p>Imperceptibly I acquired the habit of reading, and took up a book with -pleasure. What I read therein was pleasantly different from life, which -was becoming harder and harder for me.</p> - -<p>Smouri also recreated himself by reading, and often took me from my -work.</p> - -<p>"Pyeshkov, come and read."</p> - -<p>"I have a lot of washing up to do."</p> - -<p>"Let Maxim wash up."</p> - -<p>He coarsely ordered the senior kitchen-helper to do my work, and this -man would break the glasses out of spite, while the chief steward told -me quietly:</p> - -<p>"I shall have you put off the boat."</p> - -<p>One day Maxim on purpose placed several glasses in a bowl of dirty -water and tea-leaves. I emptied the water overboard, and the glasses -went flying with it.</p> - -<p>"It is my fault," said Smouri to the head steward. "Put it down to my -account."</p> - -<p>The dining-room attendants began to look at me with lowering brows, and -they used to say:</p> - -<p><i>"Ei!</i> you bookworm! What are you paid for?"</p> - -<p>And they used to try and make as much work as they could for me, -soiling plates needlessly. I was sure that this would end badly for me, -and I was not mistaken.</p> - -<p>One evening, in a little shelter on the boat, there sat a red-faced -woman with a girl in a yellow coat and a new pink blouse. Both had been -drinking. The woman smiled, bowed to every one, and said on the note O, -like a church clerk:</p> - -<p>"Forgive me, my friends; I have had a little too much to drink. I have -been tried and acquitted, and I have been drinking for joy."</p> - -<p>The girl laughed, too, gazing at the other passengers with glazed eyes. -Pushing the woman away, she said:</p> - -<p>"But you, you plaguy creature—we know you."</p> - -<p>They had berths in the second-class cabin, opposite the cabin in which -Jaakov Ivanich and Sergei slept.</p> - -<p>The woman soon disappeared somewhere or other, and Sergei took her -place near the girl, greedily stretching his frog-like mouth.</p> - -<p>That night, when I had finished my work and had laid myself down to -sleep on the table, Sergei came to me, and seizing me by the arm, said:</p> - -<p>"Come along! We are going to marry you."</p> - -<p>He was drunk. I tried to tear my arm away from him, but he struck me.</p> - -<p>"Come along!"</p> - -<p>Maxim came running in, also drunk, and the two dragged me along the -deck to their cabin, past the sleeping passengers. But by the door of -the cabin stood Smouri, and in the doorway, holding on to the jamb, -Jaakov Ivanich. The girl stuck her elbow in his back, and cried in a -drunken voice:</p> - -<p>"Make way!"</p> - -<p>Smouri got me out of the hands of Sergei and Maxim, seized them by the -hair, and, knocking their heads together, moved away. They both fell -down.</p> - -<p>"Asiatic!" he said to Jaakov, slamming the door on him. Then he roared -as he pushed me along:</p> - -<p>"Get out of this!"</p> - -<p>I ran to the stern. The night was cloudy, the river black. In the wake -of the boat seethed two gray lines of water leading to the invisible -shore; between these two lines the barge dragged on its way. Now on -the right, now on the left appeared red patches of light, without -illuminating anything. They disappeared, hidden by the sudden winding -of the shore. After this it became still darker and more gruesome.</p> - -<p>The cook came and sat beside me, sighed deeply, and pulled at his -cigarette.</p> - -<p>"So they were taking you to that creature? <i>Ekh!</i> Dirty beasts! I heard -them trying."</p> - -<p>"Did you take her away from them?"</p> - -<p>"Her?" He abused the girl coarsely, and continued in a sad tone:</p> - -<p>"It is all nastiness here. This boat is worse than a village. Have you -ever lived in a village?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"In a village there is nothing but misery, especially in the winter."</p> - -<p>Throwing his cigarette overboard, he was silent. Then he spoke again.</p> - -<p>"You have fallen among a herd of swine, and I am sorry for you, my -little one. I am sorry for all of them, too. Another time I do not know -what I should have done. Gone on my knees and prayed. What are you -doing, sons of ——? What are you doing, blind creatures? Camels!"</p> - -<p>The steamer gave a long-drawn-out hoot, the tow-rope splashed in the -water, the lights of lanterns jumped up and down, showing where the -harbor was. Out of the darkness more lights appeared.</p> - -<p>"Pyani Bor [a certain pine forest]. Drunk," growled the cook. "And -there is a river called Pyanaia, and there was a captain called -Pyenkov, and a writer called Zapivokhin, and yet another captain called -Nepei-pivo.<a name="FNanchor_1_3" id="FNanchor_1_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_3" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> I am going on shore."</p> - -<p>The coarse-grained women and girls of Kamska dragged logs of wood from -the shore in long trucks. Bending under their load-straps, with pliable -tread, they arrived in pairs at the stoker's hold, and, emptying their -sooty loads into the black hole, cried ringingly:</p> - -<p>"Logs!"</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_3" id="Footnote_1_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_3"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Pyanaia means "drunk," and the other names mentioned come -from the same root. Nepei-pivo means, "Do not drink beer."</p></div> - -<p>When they brought the wood the sailors would take hold of them by the -breasts or the legs. The women squealed, spat at the men, turned back, -and defended themselves against pinches and blows with their trucks. I -saw this a hundred times, on every voyage and at every land-stage where -they took in wood, and it was always the same thing.</p> - -<p>I felt as if I were old, as if I had lived on that boat for many years, -and knew what would happen in a week's time, in the autumn, in a year.</p> - -<p>It was daylight now. On a sandy promontory above the harbor stood out -a forest of fir-trees. On the hills and through the forests women went -laughing and singing. They looked like soldiers as they pushed their -long trucks.</p> - -<p>I wanted to weep. The tears seethed in my breast; my heart was -overflowing with them. It was painful. But it would be shameful to cry, -and I went to help the sailor Blyakhin wash the deck.</p> - -<p>Blyakhin was an insignificant-looking man. He had a withered, faded -look about him, and always stowed himself away in corners, whence his -small, bright eyes shone.</p> - -<p>"My proper surname is not Blyakhin, but——because, you see, my mother -was a loose woman. I have a sister, and she also. That happened to be -their destiny. Destiny, my brother, is an anchor for all of us. You -want to go in one direction, but wait!"</p> - -<p>And now, as he swabbed the deck, he said softly to me:</p> - -<p>"You see what a lot of harm women do! There it is? Damp wood smolders -for a long time and then bursts into flame. I don't care for that -sort of thing myself; it does not interest me. And if I had been -born a woman, I should have drowned myself in a black pool. I should -have been safe then with Holy Christ, and could do no one any harm. -But while one is here there is always the chance of kindling a fire. -Eunuchs are no fools, I assure you. They are clever people, they are -good at divination, they put aside all small things and serve God -alone—cleanly."</p> - -<p>The captain's wife passed us, holding her skirts high as she came -through the pools of water. Tall and well built, she had a simple, -bright face. I wanted to run after her and beg her from my heart:</p> - -<p>"Say something to me! Say something!"</p> - -<p>The boat drew slowly away from the pier. Blyakhin crossed himself and -said:</p> - -<p>"We are off!"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h5> - - -<p>At Sarapulia, Maxim left the boat. He went away in silence, saying -farewell to no one, serious and calm. Behind him, laughing, came the -gay woman, and, following her, the girl, looking disheveled, with -swollen eyes. Sergei was on his knees a long time before the captain's -cabin, kissing the panel of the door, knocking his forehead against it, -and crying:</p> - -<p>"Forgive me! It was not my fault, but Maxim's."</p> - -<p>The sailors, the stewards, and even some of the passengers knew that he -was lying, yet they advised:</p> - -<p>"Come, forgive him!"</p> - -<p>But the captain drove him away, and even kicked him with such force -that he fell over. Notwithstanding, he forgave him, and Sergei at once -rushed on deck, carrying a tray of tea-things, looking with inquiring, -dog-like expression into the eyes of the passengers.</p> - -<p>In Maxim's place came a soldier from Viatski, a bony man, with a small -head and brownish red eyes. The assistant cook sent him first to kill -some fowls. He killed a pair, but let the rest escape on deck. The -passengers tried to catch them, but three hens flew overboard. Then the -soldier sat on some wood near the fowl-house, and cried bitterly.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter, you fool?" asked Smouri, angrily. "Fancy a soldier -crying!"</p> - -<p>"I belong to the Home Defense Corps," said the soldier in a low voice.</p> - -<p>That was his ruin. In half an hour every one on the boat was laughing -at him. They would come quite close to him, fix their eyes on his face, -and ask:</p> - -<p>"Is this the one?"</p> - -<p>And then they would go off into harsh, insulting, absurd laughter.</p> - -<p>At first the soldier did not see these people or hear their laughter; -he was drying his tears with the sleeve of his old shirt, exactly as if -he were hiding them up his sleeve. But soon his brown eyes flashed with -rage, and he said in the quick speech of Viatski:</p> - -<p>"What are you staring at me for? <i>Oi</i>, may you be torn to bits!"</p> - -<p>But this only amused the passengers the more, and they began to snap -their fingers at him, to pluck at his shirt, his apron, to play with -him as if he had been a goat, baiting him cruelly until dinner-time. At -dinner some one put a piece of squeezed lemon on the handle of a wooden -spoon, and tied it behind his back by the strings of his apron. As he -moved, the spoon waggled behind him, and every one laughed, but he was -in a fluster, like an entrapped mouse, ignorant of what had aroused -their laughter.</p> - -<p>Smouri sat behind him in silence. His face had become like a woman's. I -felt sorry for the soldier, and asked:</p> - -<p>"May I tell him about the spoon?"</p> - -<p>He nodded his head without speaking.</p> - -<p>When I explained to the soldier what they were laughing at, he hastily -seized the spoon, tore it off, threw it on the floor, crushed it with -his foot, and took hold of my hair with both hands. We began to fight, -to the great satisfaction of the passengers, who made a ring round us -at once.</p> - -<p>Smouri pushed the spectators aside, separated us, and, after boxing -my ear, seized the soldier by the ear. When the passengers saw how -the little man danced under the hand of the cook they roared with -excitement, whistled, stamped their feet, split their sides with -laughter.</p> - -<p>"Hurrah! Garrison! Butt the cook in the stomach!"</p> - -<p>This wild joy on the part of others made me feel that I wanted to throw -myself upon them and hit their dirty heads with a lump of wood.</p> - -<p>Smouri let the soldier go, and with his hands behind his back turned -upon the passengers like a wild boar, bristling, and showing his teeth -terrifyingly.</p> - -<p>"To your places! March! March!"</p> - -<p>The soldier threw himself upon me again, but Smouri seized him round -the body with one hand and carried him to the hatchway, where he began -to pump water on his head, turning his frail body about as if he were a -rag-doll.</p> - -<p>The sailors came running on the scene, with the boatswain and the -captain's mate. The passengers crowded about again. A head above the -others stood the head-steward, quiet, dumb, as always.</p> - -<p>The soldier, sitting on some wood near the kitchen door, took off his -boots and began to wring out his leggings, though they were not wet. -But the water dripped from his greasy hair, which again amused the -passengers.</p> - -<p>"All the same," said the soldier, "I am going to kill that boy."</p> - -<p>Taking me by the shoulder, Smouri said something to the captain's mate. -The sailors sent the passengers away, and when they had all dispersed, -he asked the soldier:</p> - -<p>"What is to be done with you?"</p> - -<p>The latter was silent, looking at me with wild eyes, and all the while -putting a strange restraint upon himself.</p> - -<p>"Be quiet, you devilskin!" said Smouri.</p> - -<p>"As you are not the piper, you can't call the tune," answered the -soldier.</p> - -<p>I saw that the cook was confused. His blown-out cheeks became flabby; -he spat, and went away, taking me with him. I walked after him, feeling -foolish, with backward glances at the soldier. But Smouri muttered in a -worried tone:</p> - -<p>"There's a wild creature for you! What? What do you think of him?"</p> - -<p>Sergei overtook us and said in a whisper:</p> - -<p>"He is going to kill himself."</p> - -<p>"Where is he?" cried Smouri, and he ran.</p> - -<p>The soldier was standing at the door of the steward's cabin with a -large knife in his hand. It was the knife which was used for cutting -off the heads of fowls and for cutting up sticks for the stoves. It was -blunt, and notched like a saw. In front of the cabin the passengers -were assembled, looking at the funny little man with the wet head. His -snub-nosed face shook like a jelly; his mouth hung wearily open; his -lips twitched. He roared:</p> - -<p>"Tormentors! Tormentors!"</p> - -<p>Jumping up on something, I looked over the heads of people into their -faces. They were smiling, giggling, and saying to one another:</p> - -<p>"Look! Look!"</p> - -<p>When he pushed his crumpled shirt down into his trousers with his -skinny, childish hand, a good-looking man near me said:</p> - -<p>"He is getting ready to die, and he takes the trouble to hitch up his -trousers."</p> - -<p>The passengers all laughed loudly. It was perfectly plain that they did -not think it probable that the soldier would really kill himself, nor -did I think so; but Smouri, after one glance at him, pushed the people -aside with his stomach, saying:</p> - -<p>"Get away, you fools!"</p> - -<p>He called them fools over and over again, and approaching one little -knot of people, said:</p> - -<p>"To your place, fool!"</p> - -<p>This was funny; but, however, it seemed to-be true, for they had all -been acting like one big fool from the first thing in the morning. -When he had driven the passengers-off, he approached the soldier, and, -holding out his hand, said:</p> - -<p>"Give me that knife."</p> - -<p>"I don't care," said the soldier, holding out the handle of the knife.</p> - -<p>The cook gave the knife to me, and pushed the soldier into the cabin.</p> - -<p>"Lie down and go to sleep. What is the matter with you, eh?"</p> - -<p>The soldier sat on a hammock in silence.</p> - -<p>"He shall bring you something to eat and some vodka. Do you drink -vodka?"</p> - -<p>"A little sometimes."</p> - -<p>"But, look you, don't you touch him. It was not he who made fun of you, -do you hear? I tell you that it was not he."</p> - -<p>"But why did they torment me?" asked the soldier, softly.</p> - -<p>Smouri answered gruffly after a pause:</p> - -<p>"How should I know?"</p> - -<p>As he came with me to the kitchen he muttered:</p> - -<p>"Well, they have fastened upon a poor wretch this time, and no mistake! -You see what he is? There you are! My lad, people can be sent out of -their minds; they can really. Stick to them like bugs, and the thing is -done. In fact, there are some people here like bugs—worse than bugs!"</p> - -<p>When I took bread, meat, and vodka to the soldier he was still sitting -in the hammock, rocking himself and crying softly, sobbing like a woman.</p> - -<p>I placed the plate on the table, saying:</p> - -<p>"Eat."</p> - -<p>"Shut the door."</p> - -<p>"That will make it dark."</p> - -<p>"Shut it, or they will come crawling in here."</p> - -<p>I went away. The sight of the soldier was unpleasant to me. He aroused -my commiseration and pity and made me feel uncomfortable. Times without -number grandmother had told me:</p> - -<p>"One must have pity on people. We are all unhappy. Life is hard for all -of us."</p> - -<p>"Did you take it to him?" asked the cook. "Well, how is he—the -soldier?"</p> - -<p>"I feel sorry for him."</p> - -<p>"Well, what's the matter now, eh?"</p> - -<p>"One can't help being sorry for people."</p> - -<p>Smouri took me by the arm, drew me to him, and said:</p> - -<p>"You do not pity in vain, but it is waste of time to chatter about it. -When you are not accustomed to mix jellies, you must teach yourself the -way."</p> - -<p>And pushing me away from him, he added gruffly: "This is no place for -you. Here, smoke."</p> - -<p>I was deeply distressed, quite crushed by the behavior of the -passengers. There was something inexpressibly insulting and oppressive -in the way they had worried the soldier and had laughed with glee when -Smouri had him by the ear. What pleasure could they find in such a -disgusting, pitiful affair? What was there to cause them to laugh so -joyfully?</p> - -<p>There they were again, sitting or lying under the awning, drinking, -making a buzz of talk, playing cards, conversing seriously and -sensibly, looking at the river, just as if they had never whistled and -hooted an hour ago. They were all as quiet and lazy as usual. From -morning to night they sauntered about the boat like pieces of fluff or -specks of dust in the sunbeams. In groups of ten they would stroll to -the hatchway, cross themselves, and leave the boat at the landing-stage -from which the same kind of people embarked as they landed, bending -their backs under the same heavy wallets and trunks and dressed in the -same fashion.</p> - -<p>This continual change of passengers did not alter the life on the boat -one bit. The new passengers spoke of the same things as those who -had left: the land, labor, God, women, and in the same words. "It is -ordained by the Lord God that we should suffer; all we can do is to be -patient. There is nothing else to be done. It is fate."</p> - -<p>It was depressing to hear such words, and they exasperated me. I -could not endure dirt, and I did not wish to endure evil, unjust, and -insulting behavior toward myself. I was sure that I did not deserve -such treatment. And the soldier had not deserved it, either. Perhaps he -had meant to be funny.</p> - -<p>Maxim, a serious, good-hearted fellow, had been dismissed from the -ship, and Sergei, a mean fellow, was left. And why did these people, -capable of goading a man almost to madness, always submit humbly to the -furious shouts of the sailors, and listen to their abuse without taking -offense?</p> - -<p>"What are you rolling about on the deck for?" cried the boatswain, -blinking his handsome, though malevolent, eyes. "If the boat heeled, it -would be the end of you, you devils."</p> - -<p>The "devils" went peaceably enough to the other deck, but they chased -them away from there, too, as if they had been sheep.</p> - -<p>"Ah, accursed ones!"</p> - -<p>On hot nights, under the iron awning, which had been made red-hot by -the sun during the day, it was suffocating. The passengers crawled over -the deck like beetles, and lay where they happened to fall. The sailors -awoke them at the landing-stages by prodding them with marlinespikes.</p> - -<p>"What are you sprawling in the way for? Go away to your proper place!"</p> - -<p>They would stand up, and move sleepily in the direction whither they -were pushed. The sailors were of the same class as themselves, only -they were dressed differently; but they ordered them about as if they -were policemen. The first thing which I noticed about these people was -that they were so quiet, so timid, so sadly meek. It was terrible when -through that crust of meekness burst the cruel, thoughtless spirit -of mischief, which had very little fun in it. It seemed to me that -they did not know where they were being taken; it was a matter of -indifference to them where they were landed from the boat. Wherever -they went on shore they stayed for a short time, and then they embarked -again on our boat or another, starting on a fresh journey. They all -seemed to have strayed, to have no relatives, as if all the earth were -strange to them. And every single one of them was senselessly cowardly.</p> - -<p>Once, shortly after midnight, something burst in the machinery and -exploded like a report from a cannon. The deck was at once enveloped -in a cloud of steam, which rose thickly from the engine-room and crept -through every crevice. An invisible person shouted deafeningly:</p> - -<p>"Gavrilov, some red lead—and some felt!"</p> - -<p>I slept near the engine-room, on the table on which the dishes were -washed up, and the explosion and shaking awoke me. It was quiet on -deck. The engine uttered a hot, steamy whisper; a hammer sounded -repeatedly. But in the course of a few minutes all the saloon -passengers howled, roared with one voice, and suddenly a distressing -scene was in progress.</p> - -<p>In a white fog which swiftly rarefied, women with their hair loose, -disheveled men with round eyes like fishes' eyes, rushed about, -trampling one another, carrying bundles, bags, boxes, stumbling, -falling, calling upon God and St. Nicholas, striking one another. It -was very terrible, but at the same time it was interesting. I ran after -them to see what they would do next.</p> - -<p>This was my first experience of a night alarm, yet I understood at -once that the passengers had made a mistake. The boat had not slowed -down. On the right hand, quite near, gleamed the life-belts. The night -was light, the full moon stood high. But the passengers rushed wildly -about the deck, and now those traveling in the other classes had come -up, too. Some one jumped overboard. He was followed by another, and yet -a third. Two peasants and a monk with heavy pieces of wood broke off a -bench which was screwed to the desk. A large cage of fowls was thrown -into the water from the stern. In the center of the deck, near the -steps leading to the captain's bridge, knelt a peasant who prostrated -himself before the people as they rushed past him, and howled like a -wolf:</p> - -<p>"I am Orthodox and a sinner—"</p> - -<p>"To the boats, you devils!" cried a fat gentleman who wore only -trousers and no shirt, and he beat his breast with his fist.</p> - -<p>The sailors came running, seized people by the collars, knocked their -heads together, and threw them on the deck. Smouri approached heavily, -wearing his overcoat over his night-clothes, addressed them all in a -resounding voice:</p> - -<p>"Yes, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. What are you making all -this fuss for? Has the steamer stopped, eh? Are we going slower? There -is the shore. Those fools who jumped into the water have caught the -life-belts, they have had to drag them out. There they are. Do you see? -Two boats—"</p> - -<p>He struck the third-class passengers on the head with his fist, and -they sank like sacks to the deck.</p> - -<p>The confusion was not yet hushed when a lady in a cloak flew to Smouri -with a tablespoon in her hand, and, flourishing it in his face, cried:</p> - -<p>"How dare you?"</p> - -<p>A wet gentleman, restraining her, sucked his mustache and said -irritably:</p> - -<p>"Let him alone, you imbecile!"</p> - -<p>Smouri, spreading out his hands, blinked with embarrassment, and asked -me:</p> - -<p>"What's the matter, eh? What does she want with me? This is nice, I -must say! Why, I never saw her before in my life!"</p> - -<p>And a peasant, with his nose bleeding, cried:</p> - -<p>"Human beings, you call them? Robbers!"</p> - -<p>Before the summer I had seen two panics on board the steamboat, and -on both occasions they were caused not by real danger, but by the -mere possibility of it. On a third occasion the passengers caught two -thieves, one of them was dressed like a foreigner, beat them for almost -an hour, unknown to the sailors, and when the latter took their victims -away from them, the passengers abused them.</p> - -<p>"Thieves shield thieves. That is plain. You are rogues yourselves, and -you sympathize with rogues."</p> - -<p>The thieves had been beaten into unconsciousness. They could not stand -when they were handed over to the police at the next stopping-place.</p> - -<p>There were many other occasions on which my feelings were aroused to -a high pitch, and I could not make up my mind as to whether people -were bad or good, peaceful or mischief-making, and why they were so -peculiarly cruel, lusting to work malevolence, and ashamed of being -kind.</p> - -<p>I asked the cook about this, but he enveloped his face in a cloud of -smoke, and said briefly in a tone of vexation:</p> - -<p>"What are you chattering about now? Human creatures are human -creatures. Some are clever, some are fools. Read, and don't talk so -much. In books, if they are the right sort, you will find all you want -to know."</p> - -<p>I wanted to please him by giving him a present of some books.</p> - -<p>In Kazan I bought, for five copecks, "The Story of how a Soldier Saved -Peter the Great"; but at that time the cook was drinking and was very -cross, so I began to read it myself. I was delighted with it, it was so -simple, easy to understand, interesting, and short. I felt that this -book would give great pleasure to my teacher; but when I took it to -him he silently crushed it in his hand into a round ball and threw it -overboard.</p> - -<p>"That for your book, you fool!" he said harshly. "I teach you like a -dog, and all you want to do is to gobble up idle tales, eh?" He stamped -and roared. "What kind of book is that? Do I read nonsense? Is what is -written there true? Well, speak!"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Well, I do know. If a man's head were cut off, his body would fall -down the staircase, and the other man would not have climbed on the -haystack. Soldiers are not fools. He would have set fire to the hay, -and that would have been the end. Do you understand?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"That's right. I know all about Czar Peter, and that never happened to -him. Run along."</p> - -<p>I realized that the cook was right, but nevertheless the book pleased -me. I bought the "Story" again and read it a second time. To my -amazement, I discovered that it was really a bad book. This puzzled me, -and I began to regard the cook with even more respect, while he said to -me more frequently and more crossly than ever:</p> - -<p>"Oh, what a lot you need to be taught! This is no place for you."</p> - -<p>I also felt that it was no place for me. Sergei behaved disgustingly -to me, and several times I observed him stealing pieces of the -tea-service, and giving them to the passengers on the sly. I knew that -this was theft. Smouri had warned me more than once:</p> - -<p>"Take care. Do not give the attendants any of the cups and plates from -your table."</p> - -<p>This made life still harder for me, and I often longed to run away from -the boat into the forest; but Smouri held me back. He was more tender -to me every day, and the incessant movement on the boat held a terrible -fascination for me. I did not like it when we stayed in port, and I was -always expecting something to happen, and that we should sail from -Kama to Byela, as far as Viatka, and so up the Volga, and I should see -new places, towns, and people. But this did not happen. My life on the -steamer came to an abrupt end. One evening when we were going from -Kazan to Nijni the steward called me to him. I went. He shut the door -behind me, and said to Smouri, who sat grimly on a small stool:</p> - -<p>"Here he is."</p> - -<p>Smouri asked me roughly:</p> - -<p>"Have you been giving Serejka any of the dinner- and tea-services?"</p> - -<p>"He helps himself when I am not looking."</p> - -<p>The steward said softly:</p> - -<p>"He does not look, yet he knows."</p> - -<p>Smouri struck his knee with his fist; then he scratched his knee as he -said:</p> - -<p>"Wait; take time."</p> - -<p>I pondered. I looked at the steward. He looked at me, and there seemed -to be no eyes behind his glasses.</p> - -<p>He lived without making a noise. He went about softly, spoke in low -tones. Sometimes his faded beard and vacant eyes peeped out from some -corner and instantly vanished. Before going to bed he knelt for a long -time in the buffet before the icon with the ever-burning lamp. I could -see him through the chink of the door, looking like a black bundle; but -I had never succeeded in learning how the steward prayed, for he simply -knelt and looked at the icon, stroking his beard and sighing.</p> - -<p>After a silence Smouri asked:</p> - -<p>"Has Sergei ever given you any money?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Never?"</p> - -<p>"Never."</p> - -<p>"He does not tell lies," said Smouri to the steward, who answered at -once in his low voice:</p> - -<p>"It comes to the same thing, please—"</p> - -<p>"Come!" cried the cook to me, and he came to my table, and rapped my -crown lightly with his fingers.</p> - -<p>"Fool! And I am a fool, too. I ought to have looked after you."</p> - -<p>At Nijni the steward dismissed me. I received nearly eight rubles, the -first large money earned by me. When Smouri took farewell of me he said -roughly:</p> - -<p>"Well, here you are. Now keep your eyes open,—do you understand? You -mustn't go about with your mouth open."</p> - -<p>He put a tobacco-pouch of colored beads into my hand.</p> - -<p>"There you are! That is good handwork. My godchild made it for me. -Well, good-by. Read books; that is the best thing you can do."</p> - -<p>He took me under the arms, lifted me up, kissed me, and placed me -firmly on the jetty. I was sorry for him and for myself. I could hardly -keep from crying when I saw him returning to the steamer, pushing aside -the porters, looking so large, heavy, solitary. So many times since -then I have met people like him, kind, lonely, cut off from the lives -of other people.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h5> - - -<p>Grandfather and grandmother had again gone into the town. I went to -them, prepared to be angry and warlike; but my heart was heavy. Why had -they accounted me a thief?</p> - -<p>Grandmother greeted me tenderly, and at once went to prepare the -samovar. Grandfather asked as mockingly as usual:</p> - -<p>"Have you saved much money?"</p> - -<p>"What there is belongs to me," I answered, taking a seat by the window. -I triumphantly produced a box of cigarettes from my pocket and began to -smoke importantly.</p> - -<p>"So-o-o," said grandfather, looking at me fixedly—"so that sit! You -smoke the devil's poison? Isn't it rather soon?"</p> - -<p>"Why, I have even had a pouch given to me," I boasted.</p> - -<p>"A pouch?" squeaked grandfather. "What! Are you saying this to annoy -me?"</p> - -<p>He rushed upon me, with his thin, strong hands outstretched, his green -eyes flashing. I leaped up, and stuck my head into his stomach. The old -man sat on the floor, and for several oppressive moments looked at me, -amazedly blinking, his dark mouth open. Then he asked quietly:</p> - -<p>"You knock me down, your grandfather? The father of your mother?"</p> - -<p>"You have knocked me about enough in the past," I muttered, not -understanding that I had acted abominably.</p> - -<p>Withered and light, grandfather rose from the floor, sat beside me, -deftly snatched the cigarette from me, threw it out of the window, and -said in a tone of fear:</p> - -<p>"You mad fool! Don't you understand that God will punish you for this -for the rest of your life? Mother,"—he turned to grandmother,—"did -you see that? He knocked me down—he! Knocked me down! Ask him!"</p> - -<p>She did not wait to ask. She simply came over to me, seized me by the -hair, and beat me, saying:</p> - -<p>"And for that—take this—and this!"</p> - -<p>I was not hurt, but I felt deeply insulted, especially by grandfather's -laughter. He jumped on a chair, slapped his legs with his hands, and -croaked through his laughter:</p> - -<p>"Th-a-t's right! Tha-a-t's right!"</p> - -<p>I tore myself away, and ran out to the shed, where I lay in a corner -crushed, desolate, listening to the singing of the samovar.</p> - -<p>Then grandmother came to me, bent over me, and whispered hardly audibly:</p> - -<p>"You must forgive me, for I purposely did not hurt you. I could not -do otherwise than I did, for grandfather is an old man. He has to be -treated with care. He has fractured some of his small bones, and, -besides, sorrow has eaten into his heart. You must never do him any -harm. You are not a little boy now. You must remember that. You must, -Olesha! He is like a child, and nothing more."</p> - -<p>Her words laved me like warm water. That friendly whisper made me feel -ashamed of myself, and, light-hearted, I embraced her warmly. We kissed.</p> - -<p>"Go to him. Go along. It is all right, only don't smoke before him yet. -Give him time to get used to the idea."</p> - -<p>I went back to the room, glanced at grandfather, and could hardly keep -from laughing. He really was as pleased as a child. He was radiant, -twisting his feet, and running his paws through his red hair as he sat -by the table.</p> - -<p>"Well, goat, have you come to butt me again? Ach, you—brigand! Just -like your father! Freemason! You come back home, never cross yourself; -and start smoking at once. Ugh, you—Bonaparte! you copeck's worth of -goods!"</p> - -<p>I said nothing. He had exhausted his supply of words and was silent -from fatigue. But at tea he began to lecture me.</p> - -<p>"The fear of God is necessary to men; it is like a bridle to a horse. -We have no friend except God. Man is a cruel enemy to man." That men -were my enemies, I felt was the truth, but the rest did not interest me.</p> - -<p>"Now you will go back to Aunt Matrena, and in the spring you can go on -a steamboat again. Live with them during the winter. And you need not -tell them that you are leaving in the spring."</p> - -<p>"Now, why should he deceive people?" said grandmother, who had just -deceived grandfather by pretending to give me a beating.</p> - -<p>"It is impossible to live without deceit," declared grandfather. "Just -tell me now. Who lives without deceiving others?"</p> - -<p>In the evening, while grandfather was reading his office, grandmother -and I went out through the gate into the fields. The little cottage -with two windows in which grandfather lived was on the outskirts of the -town, at the back of Kanatni Street, where grandfather had once had his -own house.</p> - -<p>"So here we are again!" said grandmother, laughing. "The old man cannot -find a resting-place for his soul, but must be ever on the move. And he -does not even like it here; but I do."</p> - -<p>Before us stretched for about three versts fields of scanty herbage, -intersected by ditches, bounded by woods and the line of birches on -the Kazan highroad. From the ditches the twigs of bushes projected, -the rays of a cold sunset reddened them like blood. A soft evening -breeze shook the gray blades of grass. From a nearer pathway, also like -blades of grass, showed the dark form of town lads and girls. On the -right, in the distance, stood the red walls of the burial-ground of the -Old Believers. They called it "The Bugrovski Hermitage." On the left, -beyond the causeway, rose a dark group of trees; there was the Jewish -cemetery. All the surroundings were poor, and seemed to lie close to -the wounded earth. The little houses on the outskirts of the town -looked timidly with their windows on the dusty road. Along the road -wandered small, ill-fed fowl. Toward the Dyevichia Monastery went a -herd of lowing cows, from the camp came the sound of martial music. The -brass instruments brayed.</p> - -<p>A drunken man came along, ferociously holding out a harmonica. He -stumbled and muttered:</p> - -<p>"I am coming to thee—without fail."</p> - -<p>"Fool!" said grandmother, blinking in the red sunlight. "Where are you -going? Soon you will fall down and go to sleep, and you will be robbed -in your sleep. You will lose your harmonica, your consolation."</p> - -<p>I told her all about the life on the boat as I looked about me. After -what I had seen I found it dull here; I felt like a fish out of water. -Grandmother listened in silence and with attention, just as I liked to -listen to her. When I told her about Smouri she crossed herself and -said:</p> - -<p>"He is a good man, help him, Mother of God; he is good! Take care, you, -that you do not forget him! You should always remember what is good, -and what is bad simply forget."</p> - -<p>It was very difficult for me to tell her why they had dismissed me, but -I took courage and told her. It made no impression whatever on her. -She merely said calmly:</p> - -<p>"You are young yet; you don't know how to live."</p> - -<p>"That is what they all say to one another, 'You don't know how to -live'—peasants, sailors, Aunt Matrena to her son. But how does one -learn?"</p> - -<p>She compressed her lips and shook her head.</p> - -<p>"I don't know myself."</p> - -<p>"And yet you say the same as the others!"</p> - -<p>"And why should I not say it?" replied grandmother, calmly. "You must -not be offended. You are young; you are not expected to know. And who -does know, after all? Only rogues. Look at your grandfather. Clever and -well educated as he is, yet he does not know."</p> - -<p>"And you—have you managed your life well?"</p> - -<p>"I? Yes. And badly also; all ways."</p> - -<p>People sauntered past us, with their long shadows following them. The -dust rose like smoke under their feet, burying those shadows. Then the -evening sadness became more oppressive. The sound of grandfather's -grumbling voice flowed from the window:</p> - -<p>"Lord, in Thy wrath do not condemn me, nor in Thy rage punish me!"</p> - -<p>Grandmother said, smiling:</p> - -<p>"He has made God tired of him. Every evening he has his tale of woe, -and about what? He is old now, and he does not need anything; yet he is -always complaining and working himself into a frenzy about something. -I expect God laughs when He hears his voice in the evening. There's -Vassili Kashirin grumbling again!' Come and go to bed now." . . . . . . -. .</p> - -<p>I made up my mind to take up the occupation of catching singing-birds. -I thought it would be a good way of earning a living. I would catch -them, and grandmother would sell them. I bought a net, a hoop, and a -trap, and made a cage. At dawn I took my place in a hollow among the -bushes, while grandmother went in the woods with a basket and a bag to -find the last mushrooms, bulbs, and nuts.</p> - -<p>The tired September sun had only just risen. Its pale rays were now -extinguished by clouds, now fell like a silver veil upon me in the -causeway. At the bottom of the hollow it was still dusk, and a white -mist rose from it. Its clayey sides were dark and bare, and the other -side, which was more sloping, was covered with grass, thick bushes, and -yellow, brown, and scarlet leaves. A fresh wind raised them and swept -them along the ditch.</p> - -<p>On the ground, among the turnip-tops, the goldfinch uttered its cry. I -saw, among the ragged, gray grass, birds with red caps on their lively -heads. About me fluttered curious titmouses. They made a great noise -and fuss, comically blowing out their white cheeks, just like the young -men of Kunavin Street on a Sunday. Swift, clever, spiteful, they wanted -to know all and to touch everything, and they fell into the trap one -after the other. It was pitiful to see how they beat their wings, but -my business was strictly commerce. I changed the birds over into the -spare cage and hid them in a bag. In the dark they kept quiet.</p> - -<p>A flock of siskins settled on a hawthorn-bush. The bush was suffused -by sunlight. The siskins were glad of the sun and chirped more merrily -than ever. Their antics were like those of schoolboys. The thirsty, -tame, speckled magpie, late in setting out on his journey to a warmer -country, sat on the bending bough of a sweetbriar, cleaning his wing -feathers and insolently looking at his prey with his black eyes. The -lark soared on high, caught a bee, and, carefully depositing it on a -thorn, once more settled on the ground, with his thievish head alert. -Noiselessly flew the talking-bird,—the hawfinch,—the object of my -longing dreams, if only I could catch him. A bullfinch, driven from the -flock, was perched on an alder-tree. Red, important, like a general, he -chirped angrily, shaking his black beak.</p> - -<p>The higher the sun mounted, the more birds there were, and the more -gayly they sang. The hollow was full of the music of autumn. The -ceaseless rustle of the bushes in the wind, and the passionate songs -of the birds, could not drown that soft, sweetly melancholy noise. I -heard in it the farewell song of summer. It whispered to me words meant -for my ears alone, and of their own accord they formed themselves into -a song. At the same time my memory unconsciously recalled to my mind -pictures of the past. From somewhere above grandmother cried:</p> - -<p>"Where are you?"</p> - -<p>She sat on the edge of the pathway. She had spread out a handkerchief -on which she had laid bread, cucumber, turnips, and apples. In the -midst of this display a small, very beautiful cut-glass decanter stood. -It had a crystal stopper, the head of Napoleon, and in the goblet was a -measure of vodka, distilled from herbs.</p> - -<p>"How good it is, O Lord!" said grandmother, gratefully.</p> - -<p>"I have composed a song."</p> - -<p>"Yes? Well?"</p> - -<p>I repeated to her something which I thought was like poetry.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"That winter draws near the signs are many;<br /> -Farewell to thee, my summer sun!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>But she interrupted without hearing me out.</p> - -<p>"I know a song like that, only it is a better one."</p> - -<p>And she repeated in a singsong voice:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"<i>Oi</i>, the summer sun has gone<br /> -To dark nights behind the distant woods!<br /> -<i>Ekh!</i> I am left behind, a maiden,<br /> -Alone, without the joys of spring.<br /> -Every morn I wander round;<br /> -I trace the walks I took in May.<br /> -The bare fields unhappy look;<br /> -There it was I lost my youth.<br /> -<i>Oi,</i> my friends, my kind friends,<br /> -Take my heart from my white breast,<br /> -Bury my heart in the snow!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>My conceit as an author suffered not a little, but I was delighted with -this song, and very sorry for the girl.</p> - -<p>Grandmother said:</p> - -<p>"That is how grief sings. That was made up by a young girl, you know. -She went out walking all the springtime, and before the winter her dear -love had thrown her over, perhaps for another girl. She wept because -her heart was sore. You cannot speak well and truly on what you have -not experienced for yourself. You see what a good song she made up."</p> - -<p>When she sold a bird for the first time, for forty copecks, she was -very surprised.</p> - -<p>"Just look at that! I thought it was all nonsense, just a boy's -amusement; and it has turned out like this!"</p> - -<p>"You sold it too cheaply."</p> - -<p>"Yes; well?"</p> - -<p>On market-days she sold them for a ruble, and was more surprised than -ever. What a lot one might earn by just playing about!</p> - -<p>"And a woman spends whole days washing clothes or cleaning floors for a -quarter of a ruble, and here you just catch them! But it is n't a nice -thing to do, you know, to keep birds in a cage. Give it up, Olesha!"</p> - -<p>But bird-catching amused me greatly; I liked it. It gave me my -independence and inconvenienced no one but the birds. I provided myself -with good implements. Conversations with old bird-catchers taught me a -lot. I went alone nearly three versts to catch birds: to the forest of -Kstocski, on the banks of the Volga, where in the tall fir-trees lived -and bred crossbills, and most valuable to collectors, the Apollyon -titmouse, a long-tailed, white bird of rare beauty.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I started in the evening and stayed out all night, wandering -about on the Kasanski high-road, and sometimes in the autumn rains and -through deep mud. On my back I carried an oilskin bag in which were -cages, with food to entice the birds. In my hand was a solid cane of -walnut wood. It was cold and terrifying in the autumn darkness, very -terrifying. There stood by the side of the road old lightning-riven -birches; wet branches brushed across my head. On the left under the -hill, over the black Volga, floated rare lights on the masts of the -last boats and barges, looking as if they were in an unfathomable -abyss. The wheels splashed in the water, the sirens shrieked.</p> - -<p>From the hard ground rose the huts of the road-side villages. Angry, -hungry dogs ran in circles round my legs. The watchman collided with -me, and cried in terror:</p> - -<p>"Who is that? He whom the devils carry does not come out till night, -they say."</p> - -<p>I was very frightened lest my tackle should be taken from me, and I -used to take five-copeck pieces with me to give to the watchmen. The -watchman of the village of Thokinoi made friends with me, and was -always groaning over me.</p> - -<p>"What, out again? O you fearless, restless night-bird, eh?"</p> - -<p>His name was Niphront. He was small and gray, like a saint. He drew out -from his breast a turnip, an apple, a handful of peas, and placed them -in my hand, saying:</p> - -<p>"There you are, friend. There is a little present for you. Eat and -enjoy it." And conducting me to the bounds of the village, he said, -"Go, and God be with you!"</p> - -<p>I arrived at the forest before dawn, laid my traps, and spreading out -my coat, lay on the edge of the forest and waited for the day to come. -It was still. Everything was wrapped in the deep autumn sleep. Through -the gray mist the broad meadows under the hill were hardly visible. -They were cut in two by the Volga, across which they met and separated -again, melting away in the fog. In the distance, behind the forest on -the same side as the meadows, rose without hurry the bright sun. On -the black mane of the forest lights flashed out, and my heart began -to stir strangely, poignantly. Swifter and swifter the fog rose from -the meadows, growing silver in the rays of the sun, and, following it, -the bushes, trees, and hayricks rose from the ground. The meadows were -simply flooded with the sun's rays and flowed on each side, red-gold. -The sun just glanced at the still water by the bank, and it seemed as -if the whole river moved toward the sun as it rose higher and higher, -joyfully blessed and warmed the denuded, chilled earth, which gave -forth the sweet smell of autumn. The transparent air made the earth -look enormous, boundlessly wide. Everything seemed to be floating in -the distance, and to be luring one to the farthest ends of the world. -I saw the sunrise ten times during those months, and each time a new -world was born before my eyes, with a new beauty.</p> - -<p>I loved the sun so much that its very name delighted me. The sweet -sound of it was like a bell hidden in it. I loved to close my eyes and -place my face right in the way of its hot rays to catch it in my hands -when it came, like a sword, through the chinks of the fence or through -the branches. Grandfather had read over and over again "Prince Mikhail -Chemigovski and the Lady Theodora who would not Worship the Sun," and -my idea of these people was that they were black, like Gipsies, harsh, -malignant, and always had bad eyes, like poor Mordovans. When the sun -rose over the meadows I involuntarily smiled with joy.</p> - -<p>Over me murmured the forest of firs, shaking off the drops of dew with -its green paws. In the shadows and on the fern-leaves glistened, like -silver brocade, the rime of the morning frost. The reddening grass was -crushed by the rain; immovable stalks bowed their heads to the ground: -but when the sun's rays fell on them a slight stir was noticeable among -the herbs, as if, may be, it was the last effort of their lives.</p> - -<p>The birds awoke. Like gray balls of down, they fell from bough to -bough. Flaming crossbills pecked with their crooked beaks the knots -on the tallest firs. On the end of the fir-branches sang a white -Apollyon titmouse, waving its long, rudder-like tail, looking askance -suspiciously with its black, beady eyes at the net which I had spread. -And suddenly the whole forest, which a minute ago had been solemnly -pensive, was filled with the sound of a thousand bird-voices, with the -bustle of living beings, the purest on the earth. In their image, man, -the father of earthly beauty, created for his own consolation, elves, -cherubim, and seraphim, and all the ranks of angels.</p> - -<p>I was rather sorry to catch the little songsters, and had scruples -about squeezing them into cages. I would rather have merely looked at -them; but the hunter's passion and the desire to earn money drove away -my pity.</p> - -<p>The birds mocked me with their artfulness. The blue titmouse, after -a careful examination of the trap, understood her danger, and, -approaching sidewise without running any risk, helped herself to some -seed between the sticks of the trap. Titmouses are very clever, but -they are very curious, and that is their undoing. The proud bullfinches -are stupid, and flocks of them fall into the nets, like over-fed -citizens into a church. When they find themselves shut up, they are -very astonished, roll their eyes, and peck my fingers with their stout -beaks. The crossbill entered the trap calmly and seriously. This -grasping, ignorant bird, unlike all the others, used to sit for a long -time before the net, stretching out his long beak, and leaning on -his thick tail. He can run up the trunk of trees like the woodpecker, -always escorting the titmouse. About this smoke-gray singing-bird there -is something unpleasant. No one loves it. And it loves no one. Like the -magpie, it likes to steal and hide bright things.</p> - -<p>Before noon I had finished my catch, and went home through the forest. -If I had gone by the high-road past the villages, the boys and young -men would have taken my cages away from me and broken up my tackle. I -had already experienced that once.</p> - -<p>I arrived home in the evening tired and hungry, but I felt that I had -grown older, had learned something new, and had gained strength during -that day. This new strength gave me the power to listen calmly and -without resentment to grandfather's jeers; seeing which, grandfather -began to speak sensibly and seriously.</p> - -<p>"Give up this useless business! Give it up! No one ever got on through -birds. Such a thing has never happened that I know of. Go and find -another place, and let your intelligence grow up there. Man has not -been given life for nothing; he is God's grain, and he must produce an -ear of corn. Man is like a ruble; put out at good interest it produces -three rubles. You think life is easy to live? No, it is not all easy. -The world of men is like a dark night, but every man must make his own -light. To every person is given enough for his ten fingers to hold, but -every one wants to grasp by handfuls. One should be strong, but if one -is weak, one must be artful. He who has little strength is weak, and -he is neither in heaven nor in hell. Live as if you are with others, -but remember that you are alone. Whatever happens, never trust any -one. If you believe your own eyes, you will measure crookedly. Hold -your tongue. Neither town or house was built by the tongue, but rubles -are made by the ax. You are neither a fool nor a Kalmuck, to whom all -riches are like lice on sheep."</p> - -<p>He could talk like this all the evening, and I knew his words by heart. -The words pleased me, but I distrusted their meaning. From what he said -it was plain that two forces hindered man from doing as he wished, God -and other people.</p> - -<p>Seated at the window, grandmother wound the cotton for her lace. The -spindle hummed under her skilful hands. She listened for a long time to -grandfather's speech in silence, then she suddenly spoke.</p> - -<p>"It all depends upon whether the Mother of God smiles upon us."</p> - -<p>"What's that?" cried grandfather. "God! I have not forgotten about God. -I know all about God. You old fool, has God sown fools on the earth, -eh?"</p> - -<p>*</p> - -<p>In my opinion the happiest people on earth were Cossacks and soldiers. -Their lives were simple and gay. On fine mornings they appeared in the -hollow near our house quite early. Scattering over the bare fields like -white mushrooms, they began a complicated, interesting game. Agile -and strong in their white blouses, they ran about the field with -guns in their hands, disappeared in the hollow, and suddenly, at the -sound of the bugle, again spread themselves over the field with shouts -of "Hurrah!" accompanied by the ominous sounds of the drum. They ran -straight at our house with fixed bayonets, and they looked as if they -would knock it down and sweep it away, like a hayrick, in a minute. -I cried "Hurrah!" too, and ran with them, quite carried away. The -wicked rattle of the drum aroused in me a passionate desire to destroy -something, to break down the fence, to hit other boys. When they were -resting, the soldiers used to give me a treat by teaching me how to -signal and by showing me their heavy guns. Sometimes one of them would -stick his bayonet into my stomach and cry, with a pretense of anger:</p> - -<p>"Stick the cockroach!"</p> - -<p>The bayonet gleamed; it looked as if it were alive, and seemed to wind -about like a snake about to coil itself up. It was rather terrifying, -but more pleasant.</p> - -<p>The Mordovan drummer taught me to strike the drum with my fingers. At -first he used to take me by the wrist, and, moving them so that he hurt -me, would thrust the sticks into my crushed fingers.</p> - -<p>"Hit it—one, two-one-tw-o-o! Rum te—tum! Beat it—left—softly, -right—loudly, rum te—!" he shouted threateningly, opening wide his -bird-like eyes.</p> - -<p>I used to run about the field with the soldiers, almost to the end of -the drill, and after it was finished, I used to escort them across -the town to the barracks, listening to their loud songs, looking into -their kind faces, all as new as five-ruble pieces just coined. The -close-packed mass of happy men passing up the streets in one united -body aroused a feeling of friendliness in me, a desire to throw myself -in among them as into a river, to enter into them as into a forest. -These men were frightened of nothing; they could conquer anything; they -were capable of anything; they could do anything they liked; and they -were all simple and good.</p> - -<p>But one day during the time they were resting a young non-commissioned -officer gave me a fat cigarette.</p> - -<p>"Smoke this! I would not give them to any one. In fact I hardly like to -give you one, my dear boy, they are so good."</p> - -<p>I smoked it. He moved away a few steps, and suddenly a red flame -blinded me, burning my fingers, my nose, my eyebrows. A gray, acrid -smoke made me splutter and cough. Blinded, terrified, I stamped on the -ground, and the soldiers, who had formed a ring around me, laughed -loudly and heartily. I ran away home. Whistles and laughter followed -me; something cracked like a shepherd's whip. My burned fingers hurt -me, my face smarted, tears flowed from my eyes; but it was not the pain -which oppressed me, only a heavy, dull amazement. Why should this amuse -these good fellows?</p> - -<p>When I reached home I climbed up to the attic and sat there a long time -brooding over this inexplicable cruelty which stood so repulsively -in my path. I had a peculiarly clear and vivid memory of the little -soldier from Sarapulia standing before me, as large as life, and saying:</p> - -<p>"Well, do you understand?"</p> - -<p>Soon I had to go through something still more depressing and disgusting.</p> - -<p>I had begun to run about in the barracks of the Cossacks, which -stood near the Pecherski Square. The Cossacks seemed different from -the soldiers, not because they rode so skilfully oh horseback and -were dressed more beautifully, but because they spoke in a different -way, sang different songs, and danced beautifully. In the evening, -after they had seen to their horses, they used to gather in a ring -near the stables, and a little red-haired Cossack, shaking his tufts -of hair, sang softly in a high-pitched voice, like a trumpet. The -long-drawn-out, sad song flowed out upon the Don and the blue Dounia. -His eyes were closed, like the eyes of a linnet, which often sings till -it falls dead from the branch to the ground. The collar of his Cossack -shirt was undone. His collar-bone was visible, looking like a copper -band. In fact, he was altogether metallic, coppery. Swaying on his thin -legs, as if the earth under him were rocking, spreading out his hands, -he seemed sightless, but full of sound. He, as it were, ceased to be -a man, and became a brass instrument. Sometimes it seemed to me that -he was falling, that he would fall on his back to the ground, and die -like the linnet, because he put into the song all his soul and all his -strength.</p> - -<p>With their hands in their pockets or behind their broad backs, his -comrades stood round in a ring, sternly looking at his brassy face. -Beating time with their hands, softly spitting into space, they joined -in earnestly, softly, as if they were in the choir in church. All of -them, bearded and shaven, looked like icons, stern and set apart from -other people. The song was long, like a long street, and as level, as -broad and as wide. When I listened to him I forgot everything else, -whether it was day or night upon the earth, whether I was an old man or -a little boy. Everything else was forgotten. The voice of the singer -died away. The sighs of the horses were audible as they grieved for -their native steppes, and gently, but surely, the autumn night crept -up from the fields. My heart swelled and almost burst with a multitude -of extraordinary feelings, and a great, speechless love for human -creatures and the earth.</p> - -<p>The little copper-colored Cossack seemed to me to be no man, but -something much more significant—a legendary being, better and on a -higher plane than ordinary people. I could not talk to him. When he -asked me a question I smiled blissfully and remained shyly silent. I -was ready to follow him anywhere, silently and humbly, like a dog. All -I wanted was to see him often, and to hear him sing.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h5> - - -<p>When the snows came, grandfather once more took me to grandmother's -sister.</p> - -<p>"It will do you no harm," he said to me.</p> - -<p>I seemed to have had a wonderful lot of experience during the summer. -I felt that I had grown older and cleverer, and the dullness of my -master's house seemed worse than ever. They fell ill as often as -ever, upsetting their stomachs with offensive poisons, and giving one -another detailed accounts of the progress of their illnesses. The old -woman prayed to God in the same terrible and malignant way. The young -mistress had grown thin, but she moved about just as pompously and -slowly as when she was expecting her child. When she stitched at the -baby-clothes she always sang the same song softly to herself:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Spiria, Spiria, Spiridon,<br /> -Spiria, my little brother,<br /> -I will sit in the sledge myself<br /> -And Spiria on the foot-board."<br /> -</p> - -<p>If any one went into the room she left off singing at once and cried -angrily:</p> - -<p>"What do you want?"</p> - -<p>I fully believed that she knew no other song but that.</p> - -<p>In the evenings they used to call me into the sitting-room, and the -order was given:</p> - -<p>"Now tell us how you lived on the boat."</p> - -<p>I sat on a chair near the door and spoke. I liked to recall a different -life from this which I was forced to lead against my will. I was so -interested that I forgot my audience, but not for long.</p> - -<p>The women, who had never been on a boat, asked me:</p> - -<p>"But it was very alarming, was n't it?"</p> - -<p>I did not understand. Why should it be alarming?</p> - -<p>"Why, the boat might go down any moment, and every one would be -drowned."</p> - -<p>The master burst out laughing, and I, although I knew that boats did -not sink just because there were deep places, could not convince the -women. The old woman was certain that the boat did not float on the -water, but went along on wheels on the bottom of the river, like a cart -on dry land.</p> - -<p>"If they are made of iron, how can they float? An ax will not float; no -fear!"</p> - -<p>"But a scoop does not sink in the water."</p> - -<p>"There's a comparison to make! A scoop is a small thing, nothing to -speak of."</p> - -<p>When I spoke of Smouri and his books they regarded me with contempt. -The old lady said that only fools and heretics wrote books.</p> - -<p>"What about the Psalms and King David?"</p> - -<p>"The Psalms are sacred writings, and King David prayed God to forgive -him for writing the Psalms."</p> - -<p>"Where does it say so?"</p> - -<p>"In the palms of my hands; that's where! When I get hold of you by the -neck you will learn where."</p> - -<p>She knew everything; she spoke on all subjects with conviction and -always savagely.</p> - -<p>"A Tatar died on the Pechorka, and his soul came out of his mouth as -black as tar."</p> - -<p>"Soul? Spirit?" I said, but she cried contemptuously:</p> - -<p>"Of a Tatar! Fool!"</p> - -<p>The young mistress was afraid of books, too.</p> - -<p>"It is very injurious to read books, and especially when you are -young," she said. "At home, at Grebeshka, there was a young girl of -good family who read and read, and the end of it was that she fell in -love with the deacon, and the deacon's wife so shamed her that it was -terrible to see. In the street, before everybody."</p> - -<p>Sometimes I used words out of Smouri's books, in one of which, one -without beginning or end, was written, "Strictly speaking, no one -person really invented powder; as is always the case, it appeared at -the end of a long series of minor observations and discoveries." I do -not know why I remembered these words so well. What I liked best of -all was the joining of two phrases, "strictly speaking, no one person -really invented powder." I was aware of force underlying them; but they -brought me sorrow, ludicrous sorrow. It happened thus.</p> - -<p>One day when my employers proposed that I should tell them about -something which had happened on the boat I answered:</p> - -<p>"I have n't anything left to tell, strictly speaking." This amazed -them. They cried:</p> - -<p>"What? What's that you said?"</p> - -<p>And all four began to laugh in a friendly fashion, repeating:</p> - -<p>"'Strictly speaking,'—ah, Lord!"</p> - -<p>Even the master said to me:</p> - -<p>"You have thought that out badly, old fellow." And for a long time -after that they used to call me:</p> - -<p>"Hi, 'strictly speaking,' come here and wipe up the floor after the -baby, strictly speaking."</p> - -<p>This stupid banter did not offend, but it greatly surprised, me. I -lived in a fog of stupefying grief, and I worked hard in order to -fight against it. I did not feel my inefficiencies when I was at work. -In the house were two young children. The nurses never pleased the -mistresses, and were continually being changed. I had to wait upon the -children, to wash baby-clothes every day, and every week I had to go to -the Jandarmski Fountain to rinse the linen. Here I was derided by the -washerwomen:</p> - -<p>"Why are you doing women's work?"</p> - -<p>Sometimes they worked me up to such a pitch that I slapped them with -the wet, twisted linen. They paid me back generously for this, but I -found them merry and interesting.</p> - -<p>The Jandarmski Fountain ran along the bottom of a deep causeway -and fell into the Oka. The causeway cut the town off from the field -which was called, from the name of an ancient god, Yarilo. On that -field, near Semika, the inhabitants of the town had made a promenade. -Grandmother had told me that in the days of her youth people still -believed in Yarilo and offered sacrifices to him. They took a wheel, -covered it with tarred tow, and let it roll down the hill with cries -and songs, watching to see if the burning wheel would roll as far as -the Oka. If it did, the god Yarilo had accepted the sacrifice; the -summer would be sunny and happy.</p> - -<p>The washerwomen were for the most part from Yarilo, bold, headstrong -women who had the life of the town at their finger-ends. It was very -interesting to hear their tales of the merchants, <i>chinovniks</i>, and -officers for whom they worked. To rinse the linen in winter in the -icy water of the river was work for a galley-slave. All the women had -their hands so frost-bitten that the skin was broken. Bending over -the stream, inclosed in a wooden trough, under an old penthouse full -of crevices, which was no protection against either wind or snow, the -women rinsed the linen. Their faces were flushed, pinched by the frost. -The frost burned their wet fingers; they could not bend them. Tears -trickled from their eyes, but they chatted all the time, telling one -another different stories, bearing themselves with a peculiar bravery -toward every one and everything.</p> - -<p>The best of all the stories were told by Natalia Kozlovski, a woman of -about thirty, fresh-faced, strong, with laughing eyes and a peculiarly -facile and sharp tongue. All her companions had a high regard for her; -she was consulted on all sorts of affairs, and much admired for her -skill in work, for the neatness of her attire, and because she had -been able to send her daughter to the high school. When, bending under -the weight of two baskets of wet linen, she came down the hill on the -slippery footpath, they greeted her gladly, and asked solicitously:</p> - -<p>"Well, and how is the daughter?"</p> - -<p>"Very well, thank you; she is learning well, thank God!"</p> - -<p>"Look at that now! She will be a lady."</p> - -<p>"That's why I am having her taught. Where do the ladies with the -painted faces come from? They all come from us, from the black earth. -And where else should they come from? He who has the most knowledge has -the longest arms and can take more, and the one who takes the most has -the honor and glory. God sends us into the world as stupid children and -expects to take us back as wise old people, which means that we must -learn!"</p> - -<p>When she spoke every one was silent, listening attentively to her -fluent, self-confident speech. They praised her to her face and behind -her back, amazed at her cleverness, her intellect; but no one tried to -imitate her. She had sewn brown leather from the leg of a boot, over -the sleeve of her bodice which saved her from the necessity of baring -her arms to the elbow, and prevented her sleeves from getting wet. -They all said what a good idea it was, but not one of them followed her -example. When I did so they laughed at me.</p> - -<p>"<i>Ekh</i>, you? Letting a woman teach you!"</p> - -<p>With reference to her daughter she said:</p> - -<p>"That is an important affair. There will be one more young lady in the -world. Is that a small thing? But of course she may not be able to -finish her studies; she may die. And it is not an easy life for those -who are students, you see. There was that daughter of the Bakhilovs. -She studied and studied, and even became a teacher herself. Once you -become a teacher, you know, you are settled for life."</p> - -<p>"Of course, if they marry, they can do without education; that is, if -they have something else to recommend them."</p> - -<p>"A woman's wit lies not in her head."</p> - -<p>It was strange and embarrassing to hear them speak about themselves -with such lack of reticence. I knew how sailors, soldiers, and tillers -of the soil spoke about women. I heard men always boasting among -themselves of their skill in deceiving women, of cunning in their -relations with them. I felt that their attitude toward "females" -was hostile, but generally there was a ring of something in these -boastings which led me to suppose that these stories were merely brag, -inventions, and not the truth.</p> - -<p>The washerwomen did not tell one another about their love adventures, -but in whatever they said about men I detected an undercurrent of -derision, of malice, and I thought it might be true that woman was -strength.</p> - -<p>"Even when they don't go about among their fellows and make friends, -they come to women, every one of them!" said Natalia one day, and an -old woman cried to her in a rheumy voice:</p> - -<p>"And to whom else should they go? Even from God monks and hermits come -to us."</p> - -<p>These conversations amid the weeping splash of the water, the slapping -of wet clothes on the ground, or against the dirty chinks, which -not even the snow could hide with its clean cover—these shameless, -malicious conversations about secret things, about that from which all -races and peoples have sprung, roused in me a timid disgust, forced -my thoughts and feelings to fix themselves on "the romances" which -surrounded and irritated me. For me the understanding of the "romances" -was closely intertwined with representations of obscure, immoral -stories.</p> - -<p>However, whether I was with the washerwomen, or in the kitchen with the -orderlies or in cellars where lived the field laborers, I found it much -more interesting than to be at home, where the stilted conversations -were always on the same lines, where the same things happened over -and over again, arousing nothing but a feeling of constraint and -embittered boredom. My employers dwelt within the magic circle of food, -illness, sleep, and the anxieties attendant on preparing for eating -and sleeping. They spoke of sin and of death, of which they were much -afraid. They rubbed against one another as grains of corn are rubbed -against the grindstone, which they expect every moment to crush them. -In my free time I used to go into the shed to chop wood, desiring to be -alone. But that rarely happened. The orderlies used to come and talk -about the news of the yard.</p> - -<p>Ermokhin and Sidorov came more often than the others. The former was -a long, bow-backed Kalougan, with thick, strong veins all over him, -a small head, and dull eyes. He was lazy and irritatingly stupid; he -moved slowly and clumsily, and when he saw a woman he blinked and bent -forward, just as if he were going to throw himself at her feet. All the -yard was amazed by his swift conquest of the cooks and the maids, and -envied him. They were all afraid of his bear-like strength. Sidorov, a -lean, bony native of Tula, was always sad, spoke softly, and loved to -gaze into dark corners. He would relate some incident in a low voice, -or sit in silence, looking into the darkest corner.</p> - -<p>"What are you looking at?"</p> - -<p>"I thought I saw a mouse running about. I love mice; they run to and -fro so quietly."</p> - -<p>I used to write letters home for these orderlies—love-letters. I liked -this, but it was pleasanter to write letters for Sidorov than for any -of the others. Every Saturday regularly he sent a letter to his sister -at Tula.</p> - -<p>He invited me into his kitchen, sat down beside me at the table, and, -rubbing his close-cropped hair hard, whispered in my ear:</p> - -<p>"Well, go on. Begin it as it ought to be begun. 'My dearest sister, may -you be in good health for many years'—you know how it ought to go. And -now write, 'I received the ruble; only you need not have sent it. But -I thank you. I want for nothing; we live well here.' As a matter of -fact, we do not live at all well, but like dogs; but there is no need -to write that. Write that we live well. She is little, only fourteen -years old. Why should she know? Now write by yourself, as you have been -taught."</p> - -<p>He pressed upon me from the left side, breathing into my ear hotly and -odorously, and whispered perseveringly:</p> - -<p>"Write 'if any one speaks tenderly to you, you are not to believe him. -He wants to deceive you, and ruin you.'"</p> - -<p>His face was flushed by his effort to keep back a cough. Tears stood in -his eyes. He leaned on the table and pushed against me.</p> - -<p>"You are hindering me!"</p> - -<p>"It is all right; go on! 'Above all, never believe gentlemen. They will -lead a girl wrong the first time they see her. They know exactly what -to say. And if you have saved any money, give it to the priest to keep -for you, if he is a good man. But the best thing, is to bury it in the -ground, and remember the spot.'"</p> - -<p>It was miserable work trying to listen to this whisper, which was -drowned by the squeaking of the tin ventilator in the <i>fortochka.</i> -I looked at the blackened front of the stove, at the china cupboard -covered with flies. The kitchen was certainly very dirty, overrun with -bugs, redolent with an acrid smell of burnt fat, kerosene, and smoke. -On the stove, among the sticks of wood, cockroaches crawled in and out. -A sense of melancholy stole over my heart. I could have cried with pity -for the soldier and his sister. Was it possible, was it right that -people should live like this?</p> - -<p>I wrote something, no longer listening to Sidorov's whisper. I wrote of -the misery and repulsiveness of life, and he said to me, sighing:</p> - -<p>"You have written a lot; thank you. Now she will know what she has to -be afraid of."</p> - -<p>"There is nothing for her to be afraid of," I said angrily, although I -was afraid of many things myself.</p> - -<p>The soldier laughed, and cleared his throat.</p> - -<p>"What an oddity you are! How is there nothing to be afraid of? What -about gentlemen, and God? Is n't that something?"</p> - -<p>When he received a letter from his sister he said restlessly:</p> - -<p>"Read it, please. Be quick!"</p> - -<p>And he made me read the badly scrawled, insultingly short, and -nonsensical letter three times.</p> - -<p>He was good and kind, but he behaved toward women like all the others; -that is, with the primitive coarseness of an animal. Willingly and -unwillingly, as I observed these affairs, which often went on under my -eyes, beginning and ending with striking and impure swiftness, I saw -Sidorov arouse in the breast of a woman a kind feeling of pity for him -in his soldier's life, then intoxicate her with tender lies, and then -tell Ermokhin of his conquest, frowning and spitting his disgust, just -as if he had been taking some bitter medicine. This made my heart ache, -and I angrily asked the soldiers why they all deceived women, lied to -them, and then, jeering among themselves at the woman they had treated -so, gave her away and often beat her.</p> - -<p>One of them laughed softly, and said:</p> - -<p>"It is not necessary for you to know anything about such things. It is -all very bad; it is sin. You are young; it is too early for you."</p> - -<p>But one day I obtained a more definite answer, which I have always -remembered.</p> - -<p>"Do you think that she does not know that I am deceiving her?" he -said, blinking and coughing. "She kno-o-ows. She wants to be deceived. -Everybody lies in such affairs; they are a disgrace to all concerned. -There is no love on either side; it is simply an amusement. It is a -dreadful disgrace. Wait, and you will know for yourself. It was for -that God drove them out of paradise, and from that all unhappiness has -come."</p> - -<p>He spoke so well, so sadly, and so penitently that he reconciled me a -little to these "romances." I began to have a more friendly feeling -toward him than towards Ermokhin, whom I hated, and seized every -occasion of mocking and teasing. I succeeded in this, and he often -pursued me across the yard with some evil design, which only his -clumsiness prevented him from executing.</p> - -<p>"It is forbidden," went on Sidorov, speaking of women.</p> - -<p>That it was forbidden I knew, but that it was the cause of human -unhappiness I did not believe. I saw that people were unhappy, but I -did not believe what he said, because I sometimes saw an extraordinary -expression in the eyes of people in love, and was aware of a peculiar -tenderness in those who loved. To witness this festival of the heart -was always pleasant to me.</p> - -<p>However, I remember that life seemed to me to grow more and more -tedious, cruel, fixed for ever in those forms of it which I saw from -day to day. I did not dream of anything better than that which passed -interminably before my eyes.</p> - -<p>But one day the soldiers told me a story which stirred me deeply. In -one of the flats lived a cutter-out, employed by the best tailor in -the town, a quiet, meek foreigner. He had a little, childless wife -who read books all day long. Over the noisy yard, amid houses full of -drunken people, these two lived, invisible and silent. They had no -visitors, and never went anywhere themselves except to the theater in -holiday-time.</p> - -<p>The husband was engaged from early morning until late at night. -The wife, who looked like an undersized girl, went to the library -twice a week. I often saw her walking with a limp, as if she were -slightly lame, as far as the dike, carrying books in a strap, like a -school-girl. She looked unaffected, pleasant, new, clean, with gloves -on her small hands. She had a face like a bird, with little quick eyes, -and everything about her was pretty, like a porcelain figure on a -mantel-shelf. The soldiers said that she had some ribs missing in her -left side, and that was what made her sway so curiously as she walked; -but I thought this very nice, and at once set her above all the other -ladies in the yard—the officers' wives. The latter, despite their loud -voices, their variegated attire, and <i>haut tournure</i>, had a soiled look -about them, as if they had been lying forgotten for a long time, in a -dark closet among other unneeded things.</p> - -<p>The little wife of the cutter-out was regarded in the yard as half -witted. It was said that she had lost her senses over books, and had -got into such a condition that she could not manage the housekeeping; -that her husband had to go to the market himself in search of -provisions, and order the dinner and supper of the cook, a great, huge -foreign female. She had only one red eye, which was always moist, and a -narrow pink crevice in place of the other. She was like her mistress, -they said of her. She did not know how to cook a dish of fried veal -and onions properly, and one day she ignominiously bought radishes, -thinking she was buying parsley. Just think what a dreadful thing that -was!</p> - -<p>All three were aliens in the building, as if they had fallen by -accident into one of the compartments of a large hen-house. They -reminded me of a titmouse which, taking refuge from the frost, flies -through the <i>fortochka</i> into a stifling and dirty habitation of man.</p> - -<p>And then the orderlies told me how the officers had played an insulting -and wicked trick on the tailor's little wife. They took turns to write -her a letter every day, declaring their love for her, speaking of their -sufferings and of her beauty. She answered them, begging them to leave -her in peace, regretting that she had been the cause of unhappiness to -any one, and praying God that He would help them to give up loving her. -When any one of them received a letter like that, they used to read -it all together, and then make up another letter to her, signed by a -different person.</p> - -<p>When they told me this story, the orderlies laughed too, and abused the -lady.</p> - -<p>"She is a wretched fool, the crookback," said Ermokhin in a bass voice, -and Sidorov softly agreed with him.</p> - -<p>"Whatever a woman is, she likes being deceived. She knows all about it."</p> - -<p>I did not believe that the wife of the cutter-out knew that they -were laughing at her, and I resolved at once to tell her about it. -I watched for the cook to go down into the cellar, and I ran up the -dark staircase to the flat of the little woman, and slipped into the -kitchen. It was empty. I went on to the sitting-room. The tailor's -wife was sitting at the table. In one hand she held a heavy gold cup, -and in the other an open book. She was startled. Pressing the book to -her bosom, she cried in a low voice:</p> - -<p>"Who is that? Auguste! Who are you?"</p> - -<p>I began to speak quickly and confusedly, expecting every minute -that she would throw the book at me. She was sitting in a large, -raspberry-colored armchair, dressed in a pale-blue wrap with a fringe -at the hem and lace on the collar and sleeves over her shoulders was -spread her flaxen, wavy hair. She looked like an angel from the gates -of heaven. Leaning against the back of her chair, she looked at me with -round eyes, at first angrily, then in smiling surprise.</p> - -<p>When I had said what I wanted to say, and, losing my courage, turned to -the door, she cried after me:</p> - -<p>"Wait!"</p> - -<p>Placing the cup on the tray, throwing the book on the table, and -folding her hands, she said in a husky, grown-up voice:</p> - -<p>"What a funny boy you are! Come closer!"</p> - -<p>I approached very cautiously. She took me by the hand, and, stroking it -with her cold, small fingers, said:</p> - -<p>"Are you sure that no one sent you to tell me this? No? All right; I -see that you thought of it yourself."</p> - -<p>Letting my hand go, she closed her eyes, and said softly and drawingly:</p> - -<p>"So that is how the soldiers speak of me?"</p> - -<p>"Leave this place," I advised her earnestly.</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"They will get the better of you."</p> - -<p>She laughed pleasantly. Then she asked:</p> - -<p>"Do you study? Are you fond of books?"</p> - -<p>"I have no time for reading."</p> - -<p>"If you were fond of it, you would find the time. Well, thank you."</p> - -<p>She held out a piece of silver money to me, grasped between her first -finger and her thumb. I felt ashamed to take that cold thing from her, -but I did not dare to refuse. As I went out, I laid it on the pedestal -of the stair-banisters.</p> - -<p>I took away with me a deep, new impression from that woman. It was as -if a new day had dawned for me. I lived for several days in a state of -joy, thinking of the spacious room and the tailor's wife sitting in -it, dressed in pale blue and looking like an angel. Everything around -her was unfamiliarly beautiful. A dull-gold carpet lay under her feet; -the winter day looked through the silver panes of the window, warming -itself in her presence. I wanted very much to look at her again. How -would it be if I went to her and asked her for a book?</p> - -<p>I acted upon this idea. Once more I saw her in the same place, also -with a book in her hand; but she had a red handkerchief tied round her -face, and her eyes were swollen. As she gave me a book with a black -binding, she indistinctly called out something. I went away feeling -sad, carrying the book, which smelt of creosote and aniseed drops. I -hid it in the attic, wrapping it up in a clean shirt and some paper; -for I was afraid that my employers might find it and spoil it.</p> - -<p>They used to take the "Neva" for the sake of the patterns and prizes, -but they never read it. When they had looked at the pictures, they put -it away in a cupboard in the bedroom, and at the end of the year they -had been bound, placing them under the bed, where already lay three -volumes of "The Review of Painting." When I washed the floor in the -bedroom dirty water flowed under these books. The master subscribed to -the "Russian Courier," but when he read it in the evening he grumbled -at it.</p> - -<p>"What the devil do they want to write all tins for? Such dull stuff!"</p> - -<p>On Saturday, when I was putting away the linen in the attic, I -remembered about the book. I undid it from its wrappings, and read -the first lines: "Houses are like people; they all have physiognomies -of their own." The truth of this surprised me, and I went on reading -farther, standing at the dormer-window until I was too cold to stay -longer. But in the evening, when they had gone to vespers, I carried -the book into the kitchen and buried myself in the yellow, worn pages, -which were like autumn leaves. Without effort, they carried me into -another life, with new names and new standards, showed me noble heroes, -gloomy villains, quite unlike the people with whom I had to do. This -was a novel by Xavier de Montepaine. It was long, like all his novels, -simply packed with people and incidents, describing an unfamiliar, -vehement life. Everything in this novel was wonderfully clear and -simple, as if a mellow light hidden between the lines illuminated -the good and evil. It helped one to love and hate, compelling one -to follow with intense interest the fates of the people, who seemed -so inextricably entangled. I was seized with sudden desires to help -this person, to hinder that, forgetting that this life, which had so -unexpectedly opened before me, had its existence only on paper. I -forgot everything else in the exciting struggles. I was swallowed up by -a feeling of joy on one page, and by a feeling of grief on the next.</p> - -<p>I read until I heard the bell ring in the front hall. I knew at once -who it was that was ringing, and why.</p> - -<p>The candle had almost burned out. The candlestick, which I had cleaned -only that morning, was covered with grease; the wick of the lamp, -which I ought to have looked after, had slipped out of its place, and -the flame had gone out. I rushed about the kitchen trying to hide -the traces of my crime. I slipped the book under the stove-hole, and -began to put the lamp to rights. The nurse came running out of the -sitting-room.</p> - -<p>"Are you deaf? They have rung!"</p> - -<p>I rushed to open the door.</p> - -<p>"Were you asleep?" asked the master roughly. His wife, mounting the -stairs heavily, complained that she had caught cold. The old lady -scolded me. In the kitchen she noticed the burned-out candle at once, -and began to ask me what I had been doing. I said nothing. I had only -just come down from the heights, and I was all to pieces with fright -lest they should find the book. She cried out that I would set the -house on fire. When the master and his wife came down to supper she -complained to them.</p> - -<p>"There, you see, he has let the candle gutter, he will set the house on -fire."</p> - -<p>While they were at supper the whole four of them lashed me with their -tongues, reminding me of all my crimes, wilful and involuntary, -threatening me with perdition; but I knew quite well that they were all -speaking not from ill-feeling, or for my good, but simply because they -were bored. And it was curious to observe how empty and foolish they -were compared with the people in books.</p> - -<p>When they had finished eating, they grew heavy, and went wearily to -bed. The old woman, after disturbing God with her angry complaints, -settled herself on the stove and was silent. Then I got up, took the -book from the stove-hole, and went to the window. It was a bright -night, and the moon looked straight into the window; but my sight -was not good enough to see the small print. My desire to read was -tormenting me. I took a brass saucepan from the shelf and reflected -the light of the moon from it on the book; but it became still more -difficult and blurred. Then I betook myself to the bench in the corner -where the icon was, and, standing upon it, began to read by the light -of the small lamp. But I was very tired, and dozed, sinking down on the -bench. I was awakened by the cries and blows of the old woman. She was -hitting me painfully over the shoulders with the book, which she held -in her hand. She was red with rage, furiously tossing her brown head, -barefooted, and wearing only her night-dress. Victor roared from the -loft:</p> - -<p>"Mamasha, don't make such a noise! You make life unbearable."</p> - -<p>"She has found the book. She will tear it up!" I thought.</p> - -<p>My trial took place at breakfast-time. The master asked me, sternly:</p> - -<p>"Where did you get that book?"</p> - -<p>The women exclaimed, interrupting each other. Victor sniffed -contemptuously at the pages and said:</p> - -<p>"Good gracious! what does it smell of?"</p> - -<p>Learning that the book belonged to the priest, they looked at it again, -surprised and indignant that the priest should read novels. However, -this seemed to calm them down a little, though the master gave me -another long lecture to the effect that reading was both injurious and -dangerous.</p> - -<p>"It is the people who read books who rob trains and even commit -murders."</p> - -<p>The mistress cried out, angry and terrified:</p> - -<p>"Have you gone out of your mind? What do you want to say such things to -him for?"</p> - -<p>I took Montepaine to the soldier and told him what had happened. -Sidorov took the book, opened a small trunk, took out a clean towel, -and, wrapping the novel in it, hid it in the trunk.</p> - -<p>"Don't you take any notice of them. Come and read here. I shan't tell -any one. And if you come when I am not here, you will find the key -hanging behind the icon. Open the trunk and read."</p> - -<p>The attitude my employers had taken with regard to the book raised it -to the height of an important and terrible secret in my mind. That -some "readers" had robbed a train or tried to murder some one did not -interest me, but I remembered the question the priest had asked me in -confession, the reading of the gymnasiast in the basement, the words -of Smouri, the "proper books," and grandfather's stories of the black -books of freemasonry. He had said:</p> - -<p>"In the time of the Emperor Alexander Pavlovich of blessed memory -the nobles took up the study of 'black books' and freemasonry. They -planned to hand over the whole Russian people to the Pope of Rome, if -you please! But General Arakcheev caught them in the act, and, without -regard to their position, sent them all to Siberia, into prison. And -there they were; exterminated like vermin."</p> - -<p>I remembered the <i>"umbra"</i> of Smouri's book and "Gervase" and the -solemn, comical words:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -Profane ones who are curious to know our business,<br /> -Never shall your weak eyes spy it out!<br /> -</p> - -<p>I felt that I was on the threshold of the discovery of some great -secret, and went about like a lunatic. I wanted to finish reading -the book, and was afraid that the soldier might lose it or spoil it -somehow. What should I say to the tailor's wife then?</p> - -<p>The old woman watched me sharply to see that I did not run to the -orderly's room, and taunted me:</p> - -<p>"Bookworm! Books! They teach dissoluteness. Look at that woman, the -bookish one. She can't even go to market herself. All she can do is -to carry on with the officers. She receives them in the daytime. I -kno-o-w."</p> - -<p>I wanted to cry, "That's not true. She does not carry on," but I was -afraid to defend the tailor's wife, for then the old woman might guess -that the book was hers.</p> - -<p>I had a desperately bad time of it for several days. I was distracted -and worried, and could not sleep for fear that Montepaine had come -to grief. Then one day the cook belonging to the tailor's household -stopped me in the yard and said:</p> - -<p>"You are to bring back that book."</p> - -<p>I chose the time after dinner, when my employers lay down to rest, -and appeared before the tailor's wife embarrassed and crushed. She -looked now as she had the first time, only she was dressed differently. -She wore a gray skirt and a black velvet blouse, with a turquoise -cross upon her bare neck. She looked like a hen bullfinch. When I -told her that I had not had time to read the book, and that I had -been forbidden to read, tears filled my eyes. They were caused by -mortification, and by joy at seeing this woman.</p> - -<p>"Foo! what stupid people!" she said, drawing her fine brows together. -"And your master has such an interesting face, too! Don't you fret -about it. I will write to him."</p> - -<p>"You must not! Don't write!" I begged her. "They will laugh at you and -abuse you. Don't you know that no one in the yard likes you, that they -all laugh at you, and say that you are a fool, and that some of your -ribs are missing?"</p> - -<p>As soon as I had blurted this out I knew that I had said something -unnecessary and insulting to her. She bit her lower lip, and clapped -her hands on her hips as if she were riding on horseback. I hung my -head in confusion and wished that I could sink into the earth; but she -sank into a chair and laughed merrily, saying over and over again:</p> - -<p>"Oh, how stupid! how stupid! Well, what is to be done?" she asked, -looking fixedly at me. Then she sighed and said, "You are a strange -boy, very strange."</p> - -<p>Glancing into the mirror beside her, I saw a face with high cheek-bones -and a short nose, a large bruise on the forehead, and hair, which had -not been cut for a long time, sticking out in all directions. That is -what she called "a strange boy." The strange boy was not in the least -like a fine porcelain figure.</p> - -<p>"You never took the money that I gave you. Why?"</p> - -<p>"I did not want it."</p> - -<p>She sighed.</p> - -<p>"Well, what is to be done? If they will allow you to read, come to me -and I will give you some books."</p> - -<p>On the mantel-shelf lay three books. The one which I had brought back -was the thickest. I looked at it sadly. The tailor's wife held out her -small, pink hand to me.</p> - -<p>"Well, good-by!"</p> - -<p>I touched her hand timidly, and went away quickly.</p> - -<p>It was certainly true what they said about her not knowing anything. -Fancy calling two <i>gravities</i> money! It was just like a child.</p> - -<p>But it pleased me.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></h5> - - -<p>I have sad and ludicrous reasons for remembering the burdensome -humiliations, insults, and alarms which my swiftly developed passion -for reading brought me.</p> - -<p>The books of the tailor's wife looked as if they were terribly -expensive, and as I was afraid that the old mistress might burn them in -the stove, I tried not to think of them, and began to buy small colored -books from the shop where I bought bread in the mornings.</p> - -<p>The shopkeeper was an ill-favored fellow with thick lips. He was given -to sweating, had a white, wizen face covered with scrofulous scars -and pimples, and his eyes were white. He had short, clumsy fingers on -puffy hands. His shop took the place of an evening club for grown-up -people; also for the thoughtless young girls living in the street. My -master's brother used to go there every evening to drink beer and play -cards. I was often sent to call him to supper, and more than once I -saw, in the small, stuffy room behind the shop, the capricious, rosy -wife of the shopkeeper sitting on the knee of Victorushka or some other -young fellow. Apparently this did not offend the shopkeeper; nor was he -offended when his sister, who helped him in the shop, warmly embraced -the drunken men, or soldiers, or, in fact any one who took her fancy. -The business done at the shop was small. He explained this by the fact -that it was a new business, although the shop had been open since -the autumn. He showed obscene pictures to his guests and customers, -allowing those who wished to copy the disgraceful verses beneath them.</p> - -<p>I read the foolish little books of Mischa Evstignev, paying so many -copecks for the loan of them. This was dear, and the books afforded me -no pleasure at all. "Guyak, or, the Unconquerable Truth," "Franzl, the -Venitian," "The Battle of the Russians with the Kabardines," or "The -Beautiful Mahomedan Girl, Who Died on the Grave of her Husband,"—all -that kind of literature did not interest me either, and often aroused a -bitter irritation. The books seemed to be laughing at me, as at a fool, -when they told in dull words such improbable stories.</p> - -<p>"The Marksmen," "Youri Miloslavski," "Monks' Secrets," "Yapacha, the -Tatar Freebooter," and such books I like better. I was the richer for -reading them; but what I liked better than all was the lives of the -saints. Here was something serious in which I could believe, and which -at times deeply stirred me. All the martyrs somehow reminded me of -"Good Business," and the female martyrs of grandmother, and the holy -men of grandfather in his best moments.</p> - -<p>I used to read in the shed when I went there to chop wood, or in the -attic, which was equally uncomfortable and cold. Sometimes, if a book -interested me or I had to read it quickly, I used to get up in the -night and light the candle; but the old mistress, noticing that my -candle had grown smaller during the night, began to measure the candles -with a piece of wood, which she hid away somewhere. In the morning, if -my candle was not as long as the measure, or if I, having found the -measure, had not broken it to the length of the burned candle, a wild -cry arose from the kitchen. Sometimes Victorushka called out loudly -from the loft:</p> - -<p>"Leave off that howling, Mamasha! You make life unbearable. Of course -he burns the candles, because he reads books. He gets them from the -shop. I know. Just look among his things in the attic."</p> - -<p>The old woman ran up to the attic, found a book, and burned it to ashes.</p> - -<p>This made me very angry, as you may imagine, but my love of reading -increased. I understood that if a saint had entered that household, -my employers would have set to work to teach him, tried to set him to -their own tune. They would have done this for something to do. If they -had left off judging people, scolding them, jeering at them, they would -have forgotten how to talk, would have been stricken with dumbness, and -would not have been themselves at all. When a man is aware of himself, -it must be through his relations with other people. My employers -could not behave themselves toward those about them otherwise than as -teachers, always ready to condemn; and if they had taught somebody to -live exactly as they lived themselves, to think and feel in the same -way, even then they would have condemned him for that very reason. -They were that sort of people.</p> - -<p>I continued to read on the sly. The old woman destroyed books several -times, and I suddenly found myself in debt to the shopkeeper for the -enormous amount of forty-seven copecks. He demanded the money, and -threatened to take it from my employers' money when they sent me to -make purchases.</p> - -<p>"What would happen then?" he asked jeeringly.</p> - -<p>To me he was unbearably repulsive. Apparently he felt this, and -tortured me with various threats from which he derived a peculiar -enjoyment. When I went into the shop his pimply face broadened, and he -would ask gently:</p> - -<p>"Have you brought your debt?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>This startled him. He frowned.</p> - -<p>"How is that? Am I supposed to give you things out of charity? I shall -have to get it from you by sending you to the reformatory."</p> - -<p>I had no way of getting the money, my wages were paid to grandfather. -I lost my presence of mind. What would happen to me? And in answer to -my entreaty that he wait for settlement of the debt, the shopkeeper -stretched out his oily, puffy hand, like a bladder, and said:</p> - -<p>"Kiss my hand and I will wait."</p> - -<p>But when I seized a weight from the counter and brandished it at him, -he ducked and cried:</p> - -<p>"What are you doing? What are you doing? I was only joking."</p> - -<p>Knowing well that he was not joking, I resolved to steal the money -to get rid of him. In the morning when I was brushing the master's -clothes, money jingled in his trousers' pockets, and sometimes it fell -out and rolled on the floor. Once some rolled into a crack in the -boards under the staircase. I forgot to say anything about this, and -remembered it only several days afterward when I found two <i>greven</i> -between the boards. When I gave it back to the master his wife said to -him:</p> - -<p>"There, you see! You ought to count your money when you leave it in -your pockets."</p> - -<p>But my master, smiling at me, said:</p> - -<p>"He would not steal, I know."</p> - -<p>Now, having made up my mind to steal, I remembered these words and -his trusting smile, and felt how hard it would be for me to rob him. -Several times I took silver out of the pockets and counted it, but I -could not take it. For three days I tormented myself about this, and -suddenly the whole affair settled itself quickly and simply. The master -asked me unexpectedly:</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you, Pyeshkov? You have become dull lately. -Are n't you well, or what?"</p> - -<p>I frankly told him all my troubles. He frowned.</p> - -<p>"Now you see what books lead to! From them, in some way or another, -trouble always comes."</p> - -<p>He gave me half a ruble and admonished me sternly:</p> - -<p>"Now look here; don't you go telling my wife or my mother, or there -will be a row."</p> - -<p>Then he smiled kindly and said:</p> - -<p>"You are very persevering, devil take you! Never mind; it is a good -thing. Anyhow, give up books. When the New Year comes, I will order a -good paper, and you can read that."</p> - -<p>And so in the evenings, from tea-time till supper-time, I read aloud -to my employers "The Moscow Gazette," the novels of Bashkov, Rokshnin, -Rudinskovski, and other literature, for the nourishment of people who -suffered from deadly dullness.</p> - -<p>I did not like reading aloud, for it hindered me from understanding -what I read. But my employers listened attentively, with a sort of -reverential eagerness, sighing, amazed at the villainy of the heroes, -and saying proudly to one another:</p> - -<p>"And we live so quietly, so peacefully; we know nothing of such things, -thank God!"</p> - -<p>They mixed up the incidents, ascribed the deeds of the famous brigand -Churkin to the post-boy Thoma Kruchin, and mixed the names. When I -corrected their mistakes they were surprised.</p> - -<p>"What a memory he has!"</p> - -<p>Occasionally the poems of Leonide Grave appeared in "The Moscow -Gazette." I was delighted with them. I copied several of them into a -note-book, but my employers said of the poet:</p> - -<p>"He is an old man, you know; so he writes poetry." "A drunkard or an -imbecile, it is all the same."</p> - -<p>I liked the poetry of Strujkin, and the Count Memento Mori, but both -the women said the verses were clumsy.</p> - -<p>"Only the Petrushki or actors talk in verse."</p> - -<p>It was a hard life for me on winter evenings, under the eyes of my -employers, in that close, small room. The dead night lay outside the -window, now and again the ice cracked. The others sat at the table -in silence, like frozen fish. A snow-storm would rattle the windows -and beat against the walls, howl down the chimney, and shake the -flue-plate. The children cried in the nursery. I wanted to sit by -myself in a dark corner and howl like a wolf.</p> - -<p>At one end of the table sat the women, knitting socks or sewing. At the -other sat Victorushka, stooping, copying plans unwillingly, and from -time to time calling out:</p> - -<p>"Don't shake the table! Goats, dogs, mice!"</p> - -<p>At the side, behind an enormous embroidery-frame, sat the master, -sewing a tablecloth in cross-stitch. Under his fingers appeared red -lobsters, blue fish, yellow butterflies, and red autumn leaves. He had -made the design himself, and had sat at the work for three winters. He -had grown very tired of it, and often said to me in the daytime, when I -had some spare time:</p> - -<p>"Come along, Pyeshkov; sit down to the tablecloth and do some of it!"</p> - -<p>I sat down, and began to work with the thick needle. I was sorry for -my master, and always did my best to help him. I had an idea that one -day he would give up drawing plans, sewing, and playing at cards, and -begin doing something quite different, something interesting, about -which he often thought, throwing his work aside and gazing at it -with fixed, amazed eyes, as at something unfamiliar to him. His hair -fell over his forehead and cheeks; he looked like a laybrother in a -monastery.</p> - -<p>"What are you thinking of?" his wife would ask him.</p> - -<p>"Nothing in particular," he would reply, returning to his work.</p> - -<p>I listened in dumb amazement. Fancy asking a man what he was thinking -of. It was a question which could not be answered. One's thoughts were -always sudden and many, about all that passed before one's eyes, of -what one saw yesterday or a year ago. It was all mixed up together, -elusive, constantly moving and changing.</p> - -<p>The serial in "The Moscow Gazette" was not enough to last the evening, -and I went on to read the journals which were put away under the bed in -the bedroom. The young mistress asked suspiciously:</p> - -<p>"What do you find to read there? It is all pictures."</p> - -<p>But under the bed, besides the "Painting Review," lay also "Flames," -and so we read "Count Tyatin-Baltiski," by Saliass. The master -took a great fancy to the eccentric hero of the story, and laughed -mercilessly, till the tears ran down his cheeks, at the melancholy -adventures of the hero, crying:</p> - -<p>"Really, that is most amusing!"</p> - -<p>"Piffle!" said the mistress to show her independence of mind.</p> - -<p>The literature under the bed did me a great service. Through it, I had -obtained the right to read the papers in the kitchen, and thus made it -possible to read at night.</p> - -<p>To my joy, the old woman went to sleep in the nursery for the nurse -had a drunken fit. Victorushka did not interfere with me. As soon as -the household was asleep, he dressed himself quietly, and disappeared -somewhere till morning. I was not allowed to have a light, for they -took the candles into the bedrooms, and I had no money to buy them for -myself; so I began to collect the tallow from the candlesticks on the -quiet, and put it in a sardine tin, into which I also poured lamp oil, -and, making a wick with some thread, was able to make a smoky light. -This I put on the stove for the night.</p> - -<p>When I turned the pages of the great volumes, the bright red tongue -of flame quivered agitatedly, the wick was drowned in the burning, -evil-smelling fat, and the smoke made my eyes smart. But all this -unpleasantness was swallowed up in the enjoyment with which I looked at -the illustrations and read the description of them. These illustrations -opened up before me a world which increased daily in breadth—a world -adorned with towns, just like the towns of story-land. They showed me -lofty hills and lovely seashores. Life developed wonderfully for me. -The earth became more fascinating, rich in people, abounding in towns -and all kinds of things. Now when I gazed into the distance beyond the -Volga, I knew that it was not space which lay beyond, but before that, -when I had looked, it used to make me feel oddly miserable. The meadows -lay flat, bushes grew in clumps, and where the meadows ended, rose the -indented black wall of the forest. Above the meadows it was dull, cold -blue. The earth seemed an empty, solitary place. And my heart also -was empty. A gentle sorrow nipped it; all desires had departed, and I -thought of nothing. All I wanted was to shut my eyes. This melancholy -emptiness promised me nothing, and sucked out of my heart all that -there was in it.</p> - -<p>The description of the illustrations told me in language which I could -understand about other countries, other peoples. It spoke of various -incidents of the past and present, but there was a lot which I did not -understand, and that worried me. Sometimes strange words stuck in my -brain, like "metaphysics," "chiliasm," "chartist." They were a source -of great anxiety to me, and seemed to grow into monsters obstructing my -vision. I thought that I should never understand anything. I did not -succeed in finding out the meaning of those words. In fact, they stood -like sentries on the threshold of all secret knowledge. Often whole -phrases stuck in my memory for a long time, like a splinter in my -finger, and hindered me from thinking of anything else.</p> - -<p>I remembered reading these strange verses:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"All clad in steel, through the unpeopled land,<br /> -Silent and gloomy as the grave,<br /> -Rides the Czar of the Huns, Attilla.<br /> -Behind him comes a black mass of warriors, crying,<br /> -'Where, then, is Rome; where is Rome the mighty?'"<br /> -</p> - -<p>That Rome was a city, I knew; but who on earth were the Huns? I simply -had to find that out. Choosing a propitious moment, I asked my master. -"The Huns?" he cried in amazement. "The devil knows who they are. Some -trash, I expect."</p> - -<p>And shaking his head disapprovingly, he said:</p> - -<p>"That head of yours is full of nonsense. That is very bad, Pyeshkov."</p> - -<p>Bad or good, I wanted to know.</p> - -<p>I had an idea that the regimental chaplain, Soloviev, ought to know -who the Huns were, and when I caught him in the yard, I asked him. The -pale, sickly, always disagreeable man, with red eyes, no eyebrows, and -a yellow beard, pushing his black staff into the earth, said to me:</p> - -<p>"And what is that to do with you, eh?"</p> - -<p>Lieutenant Nesterov answered my question by a ferocious:</p> - -<p>"What-a-t?"</p> - -<p>Then I concluded that the right person to ask about the Huns was the -dispenser at the chemist's. He always looked at me kindly. He had a -clever face, and gold glasses on his large nose.</p> - -<p>"The Huns," said the dispenser, "were a nomad race, like the people of -Khirgiz. There are no more of these people now. They are all dead."</p> - -<p>I felt sad and vexed, not because the Huns were dead, but because the -meaning of the word that had worried me for so long was quite simple, -and was also of no use to me.</p> - -<p>But I was grateful to the Huns after my collision with the word ceased -to worry me so much, and thanks to Attilla, I made the acquaintance of -the dispenser Goldberg.</p> - -<p>This man knew the literal meaning of all words of wisdom. He had the -keys to all knowledge. Setting his glasses straight with two fingers, -he looked fixedly into my eyes and said, as if he were driving small -nails into my forehead:</p> - -<p>"Words, my dear boy, are like leaves on a tree. If we want to find out -why the leaves take one form instead of another, we must learn how -the tree grows. We must study books, my dear boy. Men are like a good -garden in which everything grows, both pleasant and profitable."</p> - -<p>I often had to run to the chemist's for soda-water and magnesia for the -adults of the family, who were continually suffering from heartburn, -and for castor-oil and purgatives for the children.</p> - -<p>The short instructions which the dispenser gave me instilled into -my mind a still deeper regard for books. They gradually became as -necessary to me as vodka to the drunkard. They showed me a new life, -a life of noble sentiments and strong desires which incite people to -deeds of heroism and crimes. I saw that the people about me were fitted -for neither heroism nor crime. They lived apart from everything that -I read about in books, and it was hard to imagine what they found -interesting in their lives. I had no desire to live such a life. I was -quite decided on that point. I would not.</p> - -<p>From the letterpress which accompanied the drawings I had learned that -in Prague, London, and Paris there are no open drains in the middle of -the city, or dirty gulleys choked with refuse. There were straight, -broad streets, and different kinds of houses and churches. There they -did not have a six-months-long winter, which shuts people up in their -houses, and no great fast, when only fermenting cabbage, pickled -mushrooms, oatmeal, and potatoes cooked in disgusting vegetable oil can -be eaten. During the great fast books are forbidden, and they took away -the "Review of Painting" from me, and that empty, meager life again -closed about me. Now that I could compare it with the life pictured in -books, it seemed more wretched and ugly than ever. When I could read -I felt well and strong; I worked well and quickly, and had an object -in life. The sooner I was finished, the more time I should have for -reading. Deprived of books, I became lazy, and drowsy, and became a -victim to forgetfulness, to which I had been a stranger before.</p> - -<p>I remember that even during those dull days something mysterious -happened. One evening when we had all gone to bed the bell of the -cathedral suddenly rang out, arousing every one in the house at once. -Half-dressed people rushed to the windows, asking one another:</p> - -<p>"Is it a fire? Is that the alarm-bell?"</p> - -<p>In the other flats one could hear the same bustle going on. Doors -slammed; some one ran across the yard with a horse ready saddled. The -old mistress shrieked that the cathedral had been robbed, but the -master stopped her.</p> - -<p>"Not so loud, Mamasha! Can't you hear that that is not an alarm-bell?"</p> - -<p>"Then the archbishop is dead."</p> - -<p>Victorushka climbed down from the loft, dressed himself, and muttered:</p> - -<p>"I know what has happened. I know!"</p> - -<p>The master sent me to the attic to see if the sky was red. I ran -up-stairs and climbed to the roof through the dormer-window. There was -no red light in the sky. The bell tolled slowly in the quiet frosty -air. The town lay sleepily on the earth. In the darkness invisible -people ran about, scrunching the snow under their feet. Sledges -squealed, and the bell wailed ominously. I returned to the sitting-room.</p> - -<p>"There is no red light in the sky."</p> - -<p>"Foo, you! Good gracious!" said the master, who had on his greatcoat -and cap. He pulled up his collar and began to put his feet into his -goloshes undecidedly.</p> - -<p>The mistress begged him:</p> - -<p>"Don't go out! Don't go out!"</p> - -<p>"Rubbish!"</p> - -<p>Victorushka, who was also dressed, teased them all.</p> - -<p>"I know what has happened."</p> - -<p>When the brothers went out into the street the women, having sent me to -get the samovar ready, rushed to the window. But the master rang the -street door-bell almost directly, ran up the steps silently, shut the -door, and said thickly:</p> - -<p>"The Czar has been murdered!"</p> - -<p>"How murdered?" exclaimed the old lady.</p> - -<p>"He has been murdered. An officer told me so. What will happen now?"</p> - -<p>Victorushka rang, and as he unwillingly took off his coat said angrily:</p> - -<p>"And I thought it was war!"</p> - -<p>Then they all sat down to drink tea, and talked together calmly, but in -low voices and cautiously. The streets were quiet now, the bells had -given up tolling. For two days they whispered together mysteriously, -and went to and fro. People also came to see them, and related some -event in detail. I tried hard to understand what had happened, but they -hid the newspapers from me. When I asked Sidorov why they had killed -the Czar he answered, softly:</p> - -<p>"It is forbidden to speak of it."</p> - -<p>But all this soon wore away. The old empty life was resumed, and I soon -had a very unpleasant experience.</p> - -<p>On one of those Sundays when the household had gone to early mass I -set the samovar ready and turned my attention to tidying the rooms. -While I was so occupied the eldest child rushed into the kitchen, -removed the tap from the samovar, and set himself under the table to -play with it. There was a lot of charcoal in the pipe of the samovar, -and when the water had all trickled away from it, it came unsoldered. -While I was doing the other rooms, I heard an unusual noise. Going into -the kitchen, I saw with horror that the samovar was all blue. It was -shaking, as if it wanted to jump from the floor. The broken handle of -the tap was drooping miserably, the lid was all on one side, the pewter -was melted and running away drop by drop. In fact the purplish blue -samovar looked as if it had drunken shivers. I poured water over it. It -hissed, and sank sadly in ruins on the floor.</p> - -<p>The front door-bell rang. I went to open the door. In answer to the old -lady's question as to whether the samovar was ready, I replied briefly:</p> - -<p>"Yes; it is ready."</p> - -<p>These words, spoken, of course, in my confusion and terror, were taken -for insolence. My punishment was doubled. They half killed me. The -old lady beat me with a bunch of fir-twigs, which did not hurt much, -but left under the skin of my back a great many splinters, driven in -deeply. Before night my back was swollen like a pillow, and by noon the -next day the master was obliged to take me to the hospital.</p> - -<p>When the doctor, comically tall and thin, examined me, he said in a -calm, dull voice:</p> - -<p>"This is a case of cruelty which will have to be investigated."</p> - -<p>My master blushed, shuffled his feet, and said something in a low voice -to the doctor, who looked over his head and said shortly:</p> - -<p>"I can't. It is impossible."</p> - -<p>Then he asked me:</p> - -<p>"Do you want to make a complaint?"</p> - -<p>I was in great pain, but I said:</p> - -<p>"No, make haste and cure me."</p> - -<p>They took me into another room, laid me on a table, and the doctor -pulled out the splinters with pleasantly cold pincers. He said, -jestingly:</p> - -<p>"They have decorated your skin beautifully, my friend; now you will be -waterproof."</p> - -<p>When he had finished his work of pricking me unmercifully, he said:</p> - -<p>"Forty-two splinters have been taken out, my friend. Remember that. It -is something to boast of! Come back at the same time to-morrow to have -the dressing replaced. Do they often beat you?"</p> - -<p>I thought for a moment, then said:</p> - -<p>"Not so often as they used to."</p> - -<p>The doctor burst into a hoarse laugh.</p> - -<p>"It is all for the best, my friend, all for the best." When he took me -back to my master he said to him:</p> - -<p>"I hand him over to you; he is repaired. Bring him back to-morrow -without fail. I congratulate you. He is a comical fellow you have -there."</p> - -<p>When we were in the cab my master said to me:</p> - -<p>"They used to beat me too, Pyeshkov. What do you think of that? They -did beat me, my lad! And you have me to pity you; but I had no one, no -one. People are very hard everywhere; but one gets no pity—no, not -from any one. Ekh! Wild fowl!"</p> - -<p>He grumbled all the way home. I was very sorry for him, and grateful to -him for treating me like a man.</p> - -<p>They welcomed me at the house as if it had been my name-day. The women -insisted on hearing in detail how the doctor had treated me and what he -had said. They listened and sighed, then kissed me tenderly, wrinkling -their brows. This intense interest in illness, pain, and all kinds of -unpleasantness always amazed me.</p> - -<p>I saw that they were pleased with me for not complaining of them, and I -took advantage of the moment to ask if I might have some books from the -tailor's wife. They did not have the heart to refuse me. Only the old -lady cried in surprise:</p> - -<p>"What a demon he is!"</p> - -<p>The next day I stood before the tailor's wife, who said to me kindly:</p> - -<p>"They told me that you were ill, and that you had been taken to -hospital. You see what stories get about."</p> - -<p>I was silent. I was ashamed to tell her the truth. Why should she -know of such sad and coarse things? It was nice to think that she was -different from other people.</p> - -<p>Once more I read the thick books of Dumas <i>père</i>, Ponson de Terraille, -Montepaine, Zakonier, Gaboriau, and Bourgobier. I devoured all these -books quickly, one after the other, and I was happy. I felt myself -to be part of a life which was out of the ordinary, which stirred -me sweetly and aroused my courage. Once more I burned my improvised -candle, and read all through the night till the morning, so that my -eyes began to hurt me a little. The old mistress said to me kindly:</p> - -<p>"Take care, bookworm. You will spoil your sight and grow blind!"</p> - -<p>However, I soon realized that all these interestingly complicated -books, despite the different incidents, and the various countries -and towns about which they were written, had one common theme: good -people made unhappy and oppressed by bad people, the latter were always -more successful and clever than the good, but in the end something -unexpected always overthrowing the wicked, and the good winning. The -"love," of which both men and women spoke in the same terms, bored me. -In fact, it was not only uninteresting to me, but it aroused a vague -contempt.</p> - -<p>Sometimes from the very first chapters I began to wonder who would win -or who would be vanquished, and as soon as the course of the story -became clear, I would set myself to unravel the skein of events by the -aid of my own fancy. When I was not reading I was thinking of the books -I had on hand, as one would think about the problems in an arithmetic. -I became more skilful every day in guessing which of the characters -would enter into the paradise of happiness and which would be utterly -confounded.</p> - -<p>But through all this I saw the glimmer of living and, to me, -significant truths, the outlines of another life, other standards. It -was clear to me that in Paris the cabmen, working men, soldiers, and -all "black people"<a name="FNanchor_1_4" id="FNanchor_1_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_4" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> were not at all as they were in Nijni, Kazan, -or Perm. They dared to speak to gentlefolk, and behaved toward them -more simply and independently than our people. Here, for example, was -a soldier quite unlike any I had known, unlike Sidorov, unlike the -Viatskian on the boat, and still more unlike Ermokhin. He was more -human than any of these. He had something of Smouri about him, but he -was not so savage and coarse. Here was a shopkeeper, but he was much -better than any of the shopkeepers I had known. And the priests in -books were not like the priests I knew. They had more feeling, and -seemed to enter more into the lives of their flocks. And in general -it seemed to me that life abroad, as it appeared in books, was more -interesting, easier, better than the life I knew. Abroad, people did -not behave so brutally. They never jeered at other human creatures -as cruelly as the Viatskian soldier had been jeered at, nor prayed -to God as importunately as the old mistress did. What I noticed -particularly was that, when villains, misers, and low characters were -depicted in books, they did not show that incomprehensible cruelty, -that inclination to jeer at humanity, with which I was acquainted, and -which was often brought to my notice. There was method in the cruelty -of these bookish villains. One could almost always understand why they -were cruel; but the cruelty which I witnessed was aimless, senseless, -an amusement from which no one expected to gain any advantage.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_4" id="Footnote_1_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_4"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The common people.</p></div> - -<p>With every book that I read this dissimilarity between Russian life and -that of other countries stood out more clearly, causing a perplexed -feeling of irritation within me, strengthening my suspicion of the -veracity of the old, well-read pages with their dirty "dogs'-ears."</p> - -<p>And then there fell into my hands Goncourt's novel, "The Brothers -Zemganno." I read it through in one night, and, surprised at the new -experience, read the simple, pathetic story over again. There was -nothing complicated about it, nothing interesting at first sight. In -fact, the first pages seemed dry, like the lives of the saints. Its -language, so precise and stripped of all adornment, was at first an -unpleasant surprise to me; but the paucity of words, the strongly -constructed phrases, went straight to the heart. It so aptly described -the drama of the acrobat brothers that my hands trembled with the -enjoyment of reading the book. I wept bitterly as I read how the -unfortunate artist, with his legs broken, crept up to the loft where -his brother was secretly engaged in his favorite art.</p> - -<p>When I returned this glorious book to the tailor's wife I begged her to -give me another one like it.</p> - -<p>"How do you mean like that?" she asked, laughing.</p> - -<p>This laugh confused me, and I could not explain what I wanted. Then she -said:</p> - -<p>"That is a dull book. Just wait! I will give you another more -interesting."</p> - -<p>In the course of a day or two she gave me Greenwood's "The True History -of a little Waif." The title of the book at first turned me against it, -but the first pages called up a smile of joy, and still smiling, I read -it from beginning to end, re-reading some of the pages two or three -times.</p> - -<p>So in other countries, also, boys lived hard and harassing lives! After -all, I was not so badly off; I need not complain.</p> - -<p>Greenwood gave me a lot of courage, and soon after that I was given a -"real" book, "Eugénie Grandet."</p> - -<p><i>Old Grandet</i> reminded me vividly of grandfather. I was annoyed -that the book was so small, and surprised at the amount of truth it -contained. Truths which were familiar and boring to me in life were -shown to me in a different light in this book, without malice and quite -calmly. All the books which I had read before Greenwood's, condemned -people as severely and noisily as my employers did, often arousing my -sympathy for the villain and a feeling of irritation with the good -people. I was always sorry to see that despite enormous expenditure of -intelligence and willpower, a man still failed to obtain his desires. -The good characters stood awaiting events from first to last page, as -immovable as stone pillars, and although all kinds of evil plots were -formed against these stone pillars, stones do not arouse sympathy. No -matter how beautiful and strong a wall may be, one does not love it -if one wants to get the apple on the tree on the other side of it. It -always seemed to me that all that was most worth having, and vigorous -was hidden behind the "good" people.</p> - -<p>In Goncourt, Greenwood, and Balzac there were no villains, but just -simple people, wonderfully alive. One could not doubt that, whatever -they were alleged to have said and done, they really did say and do, -and they could not have said and done anything else.</p> - -<p>In this fashion I learned to understand what a great treat a "good and -proper" book can be. But how to find it? The tailor's wife could not -help me in this.</p> - -<p>"Here is a good book," she said, laying before me Arsène Huissier's -"Hands full of Roses, Gold, and Blood." She also gave me the novels of -Beyle, Paul de Kock and Paul Féval, and I read them all with relish. -She liked the novels of Mariette and Vernier, which to me appeared -dull. I did not care for Spielhagen, but I was much taken with the -stories of Auerbach. Sue and Huga, also, I did not like, preferring -Walter Scott. I wanted books which excited me, and made me feel happy, -like wonderful Balzac.</p> - -<p>I did not care for the porcelain woman as much as I had done at first. -When I went to see her, I put on a clean shirt, brushed my hair, and -tried to appear good-looking. In this I was hardly successful. I always -hoped that, seeing my good looks, she would speak to me in a simple and -friendly manner, without that hsh-like smile on her frivolous face. But -all she did was to smile and ask me in her sweet, tired voice:</p> - -<p>"Have you read it? Did you like it?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>Slightly raising her eyebrows, she looked at me, and, drawing in her -breath, spoke through her nose.</p> - -<p>"But why?"</p> - -<p>"I have read about all that before."</p> - -<p>"Above what?"</p> - -<p>"About love."</p> - -<p>Her eyes twinkled, as she burst out into her honeyed laugh.</p> - -<p>"<i>Ach</i>, but you see all books are written about love!"</p> - -<p>Sitting in a big arm-chair, she swung her small feet, incased in fur -slippers, to and fro, yawned, wrapped her blue dressing-gown around -her, and drummed with her pink fingers on the cover of the book on her -knee. I wanted to say to her:</p> - -<p>"Why don't you leave this flat? The officers write letters to you, and -laugh at you."</p> - -<p>But I had not the audacity to say this, and went away, bearing with me -a thick book on "Love," a sad sense of disenchantment in my heart.</p> - -<p>They talked about this woman in the yard more evilly, derisively, -and spitefully than ever. It offended me to hear these foul and, no -doubt, lying stories. When I was away from her, I pitied the woman, and -suffered for her; but when I was with her, and saw her small, sharp -eyes, the cat-like flexibility of her small body, and that always -frivolous face, pity and fear disappeared, vanished like smoke.</p> - -<p>In the spring she suddenly went away, and in a few days her husband -moved to new quarters.</p> - -<p>While the rooms stood empty, awaiting a new tenant, I went to look at -the bare walls, with their square patches where pictures had hung, bent -nails, and wounds made by nails. Strewn about the stained floor were -pieces of different-colored cloth, balls of paper, broken boxes from -the chemist, empty scent-bottles. A large brass pin gleamed in one spot.</p> - -<p>All at once I felt sad and wished that I could see the tailor's little -wife once more to tell her how grateful I was to her.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></h5> - - -<p>Before the departure of the tailor's wife there had come to live under -the flat occupied by my employers a black-eyed young lady, with her -little girl and her mother, a gray-haired old woman, everlastingly -smoking cigarettes in an amber mouthpiece. The young lady was very -beautiful, imperious, and proud. She spoke in a pleasant, deep voice. -She looked at every one with head held high and unblinking eyes, as if -they were all far away from her, and she could hardly see them. Nearly -every day her black soldier-servant, Tuphyaev, brought a thin-legged, -brown horse to the steps of her flat. The lady came out in a long, -steel-colored, velvet dress, wearing white gauntleted gloves and tan -boots. Holding the train of her skirt and a whip with a lilac-colored -stone in its handle in one hand, with the other little hand she -lovingly stroked the horse's muzzle. He fixed his great eyes upon her, -trembling all over, and softly trampled the soaked ground under his -hoofs.</p> - -<p>"Robaire, Robaire," she said in a low voice, and patted the beautiful, -arched neck of the steed with a firm hand.</p> - -<p>Then setting her foot on the knee of Tuphyaev, she sprang lightly into -the saddle, and the horse, prancing proudly, went through the gateway. -She sat in the saddle as easily as if she were part of it. She was -beautiful with that rare kind of beauty which always seems new and -wonderful, and always fills the heart with an intoxicating joy. When -I looked at her I thought that Diana of Poitiers, Queen Margot, the -maiden La Vallière, and other beauties, heroines of historical novels, -were like her.</p> - -<p>She was constantly surrounded by the officers of the division which was -stationed in the town, and in the evenings they used to visit her, and -play the piano, violin, guitar, and dance and sing. The most frequent -of her visitors was Major Olessov, who revolved about her on his short -legs, stout, red-faced, gray-haired, and as greasy as an engineer on a -steamboat. He played the guitar well, and bore himself as the humble, -devoted servant of the lady.</p> - -<p>As radiantly beautiful as her mother was the little five-year-old, -curly-haired, chubby girl. Her great, dark-blue eyes looked about her -gravely, calmly expectant, and there was an air of thoughtfulness about -her which was not at all childish.</p> - -<p>Her grandmother was occupied with housekeeping from morning to -night, with the help of Tuphyaev, a morose, taciturn man, and a fat, -cross-eyed housemaid. There was no nursemaid, and the little girl lived -almost without any notice being taken of her, playing about all day on -the front steps or on a heap of planks near them. I often went out to -play with her in the evenings, for I was very fond of her. She soon -became used to me, and would fall asleep in my arms while I was telling -her a story. When this happened, I used to carry her to bed. Before -long it came about that she would not go to sleep, when she was put to -bed, unless I went to say good night to her. When I went to her, she -would hold out her plump hand with a grand air and say:</p> - -<p>"Good-by till to-morrow. Grandmother, how ought I to say it?"</p> - -<p>"God preserve you!" said the grandmother, blowing a cloud of dark-blue -smoke from her mouth and thin nose.</p> - -<p>"God preserve you till to-morrow! And now I am going to sleep," said -the little girl, rolling herself up in the bedclothes, which were -trimmed with lace.</p> - -<p>The grandmother corrected her.</p> - -<p>"Not till to-morrow, but for always."</p> - -<p>"But does n't to-morrow mean for always?"</p> - -<p>She loved the word "to-morrow," and whatever pleased her specially -she carried forward into the future. She would stick into the ground -flowers that had been plucked or branches that had been broken by the -wind, and say:</p> - -<p>"To-morrow this will be a garden."</p> - -<p>"To-morrow, some time, I shall buy myself a horse, and ride on -horseback like mother."</p> - -<p>She was a clever child, but not very lively, and would often break off -in the midst of a merry game to become thoughtful, or ask unexpectedly:</p> - -<p>"Why do priests have hair like women?"</p> - -<p>If she stung herself with nettles, she would shake her finger at them, -saying:</p> - -<p>"You wait! I shall pray God to do something vewy bady to you. God can -do bad things to every one; He can even punish mama." Sometimes a soft, -serious melancholy descended upon her. She would press close to me, -gazing up at the sky with her blue, expectant eyes, and say:</p> - -<p>"Sometimes grandmother is cross, but mama never; she on'y laughs. Every -one loves her, because she never has any time. People are always coming -to see her and to look at her because she is so beautiful. She is -'ovely, mama is. 'Oseph says so—'ovely!"</p> - -<p>I loved to listen to her, for she spoke of a world of which I knew -nothing. She spoke willingly and often about her mother, and a new life -gradually opened out before me. I was again reminded of Queen Margot, -which deepened my faith in books and also my interest in life. One day -when I was sitting on the steps waiting for my people, who had gone for -a walk, and the little girl had dozed off in my arms, her mother rode -up on horseback, sprang lightly to the ground, and, throwing back her -head, asked:</p> - -<p>"What, is she asleep?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"That's right."</p> - -<p>The soldier Tuphyaev came running to her and took the horse. She stuck -her whip into her belt and, holding out her arms, said:</p> - -<p>"Give her to me!"</p> - -<p>"I'll carry her in myself."</p> - -<p>"Come on!" cried the lady, as if I had been a horse, and she stamped -her foot on the step.</p> - -<p>The little girl woke up, blinking, and, seeing her mother, held out her -arms to her. They went away.</p> - -<p>I was used to being shouted at, but I did not like this lady to shout -at me. She had only to give an order quietly, and every one obeyed her.</p> - -<p>In a few minutes the cross-eyed maid came out for me. The little girl -was naughty, and would not go to sleep without saying good night.</p> - -<p>It was not without pride in my bearing toward the mother that I entered -the drawing-room, where the little girl was sitting on the knees of her -mother, who was deftly undressing her.</p> - -<p>"Here he is," she said. "He has come—this monster."</p> - -<p>"He is not a monster, but my boy."</p> - -<p>"Really? Very good. Well, you would like to give something to your boy, -would n't you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I should."</p> - -<p>"A good idea! I will see to it, and you will go to bed."</p> - -<p>"Good-by till to-morrow," said the little girl, holding out her hand to -me. "God preserve you till to-morrow!"</p> - -<p>The lady exclaimed in surprise:</p> - -<p>"Who taught you to say that? Grandmother?"</p> - -<p>"Ye-es."</p> - -<p>When the child had left the room the lady beckoned to me.</p> - -<p>"What shall we give you?"</p> - -<p>I told her that I did not want anything; but could she let me have a -book to read?</p> - -<p>She lifted my chin with her warm, scented fingers, and asked, with a -pleasant smile:</p> - -<p>"So you are fond of reading? Yes; what books have you read?"</p> - -<p>When she smiled she looked more beautiful than ever. I confusedly told -her the names of several books.</p> - -<p>"What did you find to like in them?" she asked, laying her hand on the -table and moving her fingers slightly.</p> - -<p>A strong, sweet smell of some sort of flowers came from her, mixed with -the odor of horse-sweat. She looked at me through her long eyelashes, -thoughtfully grave. No one had ever looked at me like that before.</p> - -<p>The room was packed as tightly as a bird's nest with beautiful, soft -furniture. The windows were covered with thick green curtains; the -snowy white tiles of the stove gleamed in the half-light; beside the -stove shone the glossy surface of a black piano; and from the walls, -in dull-gold frames, looked dark writings in large Russian characters. -Under each writing hung a large dark seal by a cord. Everything about -her looked at that woman as humbly and timidly as I did.</p> - -<p>I explained to her as well as I could that my life was hard and -uninteresting and that reading helped me to forget it.</p> - -<p>"Yes; so that's what it is," she said, standing up. "It is not a bad -idea, and, in fact, it is quite right. Well, what shall we do? I will -get some books for you, but just now I have none. But wait! You can -have this one."</p> - -<p>She took a tattered book with a yellow cover from the couch.</p> - -<p>"When you have read this I will give you the second volume; there are -four."</p> - -<p>I went away with the "Secrets of Peterburg," by Prince Meshtcheski, -and began to read the book with great attention. But before I had read -many pages I saw that the Peterburgian "secrets" were considerably less -interesting than those of Madrid, London, or Paris. The only part which -took my fancy was the fable of <i>Svoboda</i> (Liberty) and <i>Palka</i> (stick).</p> - -<p>"I am your superior," said <i>Svoboda</i>, "because I am cleverer."</p> - -<p>But <i>Palka</i> answered her:</p> - -<p>"No, it is I who am your superior, because I am stronger than you."</p> - -<p>They disputed and disputed and fought about it. <i>Palka</i> beat <i>Svoboda</i>, -and, if I remember rightly, <i>Svoboda</i> died in the hospital as the -result of her injuries.</p> - -<p>There was some talk of nihilists in this book. I remember that, -according to Prince Meshtcheski, a nihilist was such a poisonous person -that his very glance would kill a fowl. What he wrote about nihilists -struck me as being offensive and rude, but I understood nothing else, -and fell into a state of melancholy. It was evident that I could not -appreciate good books; for I was convinced that it was a good book. -Such a great and beautiful lady could never read bad books.</p> - -<p>"Well, did you like it?" she asked me when I took back the yellow novel -by Meshtcheski.</p> - -<p>I found it very hard to answer no; I thought it would make her angry. -But she only laughed, and going behind the <i>portière</i> which led into -her sleeping-chamber, brought back a little volume in a binding of -dark-blue morocco leather.</p> - -<p>"You will like this one, only take care not to soil it."</p> - -<p>This was a volume of Pushkin's poems. I read all of them at once, -seizing upon them with a feeling of greed such as I experienced -whenever I happened to visit a beautiful place that I had never seen -before. I always tried to run all over it at once. It was like roaming -over mossy hillocks in a marshy wood, and suddenly seeing spread before -one a dry plain covered with flowers and bathed in sun-rays. For a -second one gazes upon it enchanted, and then one begins to race about -happily, and each contact of one's feet with the soft growth of the -fertile earth sends a thrill of joy through one.</p> - -<p>Pushkin had so surprised me with the simplicity and music of poetry -that for a long time prose seemed unnatural to me, and it did not come -easy to read it. The prologue to "Ruslan" reminded me of grandmother's -best stories, all wonderfully compressed into one, and several lines -amazed me by their striking truth.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -There, by ways which few observe,<br /> -Are the trails of invisible wild creatures.<br /> -</p> - -<p>I repeated these wonderful words in my mind, and I could see those -footpaths so familiar to me, yet hardly visible to the average being. I -saw the mysterious footprints which had pressed down the grass, which -had not had time to shake off the drops of dew, as heavy as mercury. -The full, sounding lines of poetry were easily remembered. They -adorned everything of which they spoke as if for a festival. They made -me happy, my life easy and pleasant. The verses rang out like bells -heralding me into a new life. What happiness it was to be educated!</p> - -<p>The magnificent stories of Pushkin touched me more closely, and were -more intelligible to me than anything I had read. When I had read them -a few times I knew them by heart, and when I went to bed I whispered -the verses to myself, with my eyes closed, until I fell asleep. Very -often I told these stories to the orderlies, who listened and laughed, -and abused me jokingly. Sidorov stroked my head and said softly:</p> - -<p>"That's fine, is n't it? O Lord—"</p> - -<p>The awakening which had come to me was noticed by my employers. The old -lady scolded me.</p> - -<p>"You read too much, and you have not cleaned the samovar for four -days, you young monkey! I shall have to take the rolling-pin to you—"</p> - -<p>What did I care for the rolling-pin? I took refuge in verses.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -Loving black evil with all thy heart,<br /> -O old witch that thou art!<br /> -</p> - -<p>The lady rose still higher in my esteem. See what books she read! She -was not like the tailor's porcelain wife.</p> - -<p>When I took back the book, and handed it to her with regret, she said -in a tone which invited confidence:</p> - -<p>"Did you like it? Had you heard of Pushkin before?"</p> - -<p>I had read something about the poet in one of the newspapers, but I -wanted her to tell me about him, so I said that I had never heard of -him.</p> - -<p>Then she briefly told me the life and death of Pushkin, and asked, -smiling like a spring day:</p> - -<p>"Do you see how dangerous it is to love women?"</p> - -<p>All the books I had read had shown me it was really dangerous, but also -pleasant, so I said:</p> - -<p>"It is dangerous, yet every one falls in love. And women suffer for -love, too."</p> - -<p>She looked at me, as she looked at every one, through her lashes, and -said gravely:</p> - -<p>"You think so? You understand that? Then the best thing I can wish you -is that you may not forget it."</p> - -<p>And then she asked me what verses I liked best.</p> - -<p>I began to repeat some from memory, with gesticulations. She listened -silently and gravely, then rose, and, walking up and down the room, -said thoughtfully:</p> - -<p>"We shall have to have you taught, my little wild animal. I must think -about it. Your employers—are they relatives of yours?"</p> - -<p>When I answered in the affirmative she exclaimed: "Oh!" as if she -blamed me for it.</p> - -<p>She gave me "The Songs of Béranger," a special edition with engravings, -gilt edges, and a red leather binding. These songs made me feel giddy, -with their strange mixture of bitter grief and boisterous happiness.</p> - -<p>With a cold chill at my heart I read the bitter words of "The Old -Beggar."</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -Homeless worm, have I disturbed you?<br /> -Crush me under your feet!<br /> -Why be pitiful? Crush me quickly!<br /> -Why is it that you have never taught me,<br /> -Nor given me an outlet for my energy?<br /> -From the grub an ant might have come.<br /> -I might have died in the love of my fellows.<br /> -But dying as an old tramp,<br /> -I shall be avenged on the world!<br /> -</p> - -<p>And directly after this I laughed till I cried over the "Weeping -Husband." I remembered especially the words of Béranger:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -A happy science of life<br /> -Is not hard for the simple.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Béranger aroused me to moods of joyfulness, to a desire to be saucy, -and to say something rude to people,—rude, sharp words. In a very -short time I had become proficient in this art. His verses I learned by -heart, and recited them with pleasure to the orderlies, running into -the kitchen, where they sat for a few minutes at a time.</p> - -<p>But I soon had to give this up because the lines,</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -But such a hat is not becoming<br /> -To a young girl of seventeen,<br /> -</p> - -<p>gave rise to an offensive conversation about girls that made me -furiously disgusted, and I hit the soldier Ermokhin over the head with -a saucepan. Sidorov and the other orderlies tore me away from his -clumsy hands, but I made up my mind from that time to go no more to the -officers' kitchen.</p> - -<p>I was not allowed to walk about the streets. In fact, there was no time -for it, since the work had so increased. Now, in addition to my usual -duties as housemaid, yardman, and errand-boy, I had to nail calico to -wide boards, fasten the plans thereto, and copy calculations for my -master's architectural work. I also had to verify the contractor's -accounts, for my master worked from morning to night, like a machine.</p> - -<p>At that time the public buildings of the <i>Yarmarka</i><a name="FNanchor_1_5" id="FNanchor_1_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_5" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> were private -property. Rows of shops were built very rapidly, and my master had -the contracts for the reconstruction of old shops and the erection of -new ones. He drew up plans for the rebuilding of vaults, the throwing -out of a dormer-window, and such changes. I took the plans to an old -architect, together with an envelop in which was hidden paper money -to the value of twenty-five rubles. The architect took the money, and -wrote under the plans: "The plans are correct, and the inspection of -the work has been performed by me. Imraik." As a matter of fact, he had -not seen the original of the plans, and he could not inspect the work, -as he was always obliged to stay at home by reason of his malady.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_5" id="Footnote_1_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_5"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Market-place.</p></div> - -<p>I used to take bribes to the inspector of the <i>Yarmarka</i> and to other -necessary people, from whom I received what the master called papers, -which permitted all kinds of illegalities. For this service I obtained -the right to wait for my employers at the door on the front steps when -they went out to see their friends in the evenings. This did not often -happen, but when it did, they never returned until after midnight. I -used to sit at the top of the steps, or on the heap of planks opposite -them, for hours, looking into the windows of my lady's flat, thirstily -listening to the gay conversation and the music.</p> - -<p>The windows were open. Through the curtains and the screen of flowers -I could see the fine figures of officers moving about the room. The -rotund major waddled about, and she floated about, dressed with -astonishing simplicity, but beautifully.</p> - -<p>In my own mind I called her "Queen Margot."</p> - -<p>"This is the gay life that they write about in French books," I -thought, looking in at the window. And I always felt rather sad about -it. A childish jealousy made it painful for me to see "Queen Margot" -surrounded by men, who buzzed about her like bees over flowers.</p> - -<p>Her least-frequent visitor was a tall, unhappy-looking officer, with a -furrowed brow and deep-sunken eyes, who always brought his violin with -him and played marvelously—so marvelously that the passers-by used -to stop under the window, and all the dwellers in the street used to -gather round. Even my employers, if they happened to be at home, would -open the window, listen, and praise. I never remember their praising -any one else except the subdeacon of the cathedral, and I knew that a -fish-pie was more pleasing to them than any kind of music.</p> - -<p>Sometimes this officer sang, or recited verses in a muffled voice, -sighing strangely and pressing his hand to his brow. Once when I was -playing under the window with the little girl and "Queen Margot" asked -him to sing, he refused for a long time. Then he said clearly:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Only a song has need of beauty,<br /> -While beauty has no need of songs."<br /> -</p> - -<p>I thought these lines were lovely, and for some reason I felt sorry for -the officer.</p> - -<p>What I liked best was to look at my lady when she sat at the piano, -alone in the room, and played. Music intoxicated me, and I could see -nothing but the window, and beyond that, in the yellow light of the -lamp, the finely formed figure of the woman, with her haughty profile -and her white hands hovering like birds over the keys. I gazed at her, -listened to the plaintive music, and dreamed. If I could find some -treasure, I would give it all to her, so that she should be rich. If -I had been Skobelev, I would have declared war on the Turks again. I -would have taken money for ransoms, and built a house for her on the -Otkossa, the best site in the whole town, and made her a present of it. -If only she would leave this street, where every one talked offensively -about her. The neighbors, the servants belonging to our yard, and -my employers more than all spoke about "Queen Margot" as evilly and -spitefully as they had talked about the tailor's wife, though more -cautiously, with lowered voices, and looking about them as they spoke.</p> - -<p>They were afraid of her, probably because she was the widow of a very -distinguished man. The writings on the walls of her rooms, too, were -privileges bestowed on her husband's ancestors by the old Russian -emperors Goudonov, Alexei, and Peter the Great. This was told me by -the soldier Tuphyaev, a man of education, who was always reading the -gospels. Or it may have been that people were afraid lest she should -thrash them with her whip with the lilac-colored stone in the handle. -It was said that she had once struck a person of position with it.</p> - -<p>But words uttered under the breath are no better than words uttered -aloud. My lady lived in a cloud of enmity—an enmity which I could not -understand and which tormented me.</p> - -<p>Now that I knew there was another life; that there were different -people, feelings, and ideas, this house and all its tenants aroused -in me a feeling of disgust that oppressed me more and more. It was -entangled in the meshes of a dirty net of disgraceful tittle-tattle, -there was not a single person in it of whom evil was not spoken. The -regimental chaplain, though he was ill and miserable, had a reputation -for being a drunkard and a rake; the officers and their wives were -living, according to my employers, in a state of sin; the soldiers' -conversation about women, which ran on the same lines, had become -repulsive to me. But my employers disgusted me most of all. I knew -too well the real value of their favorite amusement, namely, the -merciless judgment of other people. Watching and commenting on the -crimes of others was the only amusement in which they could indulge -without paying for it. They amused themselves by putting those about -them verbally on the rack, and, as it were, revenged themselves on -others because they lived so piously, laboriously, and uninterestingly -themselves.</p> - -<p>When they spoke vilely about "Queen Margot" I was seized by a -convulsion of feeling which was not childish at all. My heart swelled -with hatred for the backbiters. I was overcome by an irresistible -desire to do harm to every one, to be insolent, and sometimes a flood -of tormenting pity for myself and every one else swept over me. That -dumb pity was more painful than hatred.</p> - -<p>I knew more about my queen than they did, and I was always afraid that -they would find out what I knew.</p> - -<p>On Sundays, when my employers had gone to the cathedral for high mass, -I used to go to her the first thing in the morning. She would call -me into her bedroom, and I sat in a small arm-chair, upholstered in -gold-colored silk, with the little girl on my knee, and told the mother -about the books I had read. She lay in a wide bed, with her cheek -resting on her small hands, which were clasped together. Her body was -hidden under a counterpane, gold in color, like everything else in the -bedroom; her dark hair lay in a plait over her swarthy shoulder and her -breast, and sometimes fell over the side of the bed till it touched the -floor.</p> - -<p>As she listened to me she looked into my face with her soft eyes and a -hardly perceptible smile and said:</p> - -<p>"That's right."</p> - -<p>Even her kind smile was, in my eyes, the condescending smile of a -queen. She spoke in a deep, tender voice, and it seemed to me that it -said always:</p> - -<p>"I know that I am immeasurably above all other people; no one of them -is necessary to me."</p> - -<p>Sometimes I found her before her mirror, sitting in a low chair and -doing her hair, the ends of which lay on her knees, over the arms, and -back of the chair, and fell almost to the floor. Her hair was as long -and thick as grandmother's. She put on her stockings in my presence, -but her clean nudity aroused in me no feeling of shame. I had only a -joyful feeling of pride in her. A flowerlike smell always came from -her, protecting her from any evil thoughts concerning her.</p> - -<p>I felt sure that the love of the kitchen and the pantry was unknown to -Queen Margot. She knew something different, a higher joy, a different -kind of love.</p> - -<p>But one day, late in the afternoon, on going into her drawing-room, I -heard from the bedroom the ringing laugh of the lady of my heart. A -masculine voice said:</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute! Good Lord! I can't believe—"</p> - -<p>I ought to have gone away. I knew that, but I could not.</p> - -<p>"Who is that?" she asked. "You? Come in!"</p> - -<p>The bedroom was heavy with the odor of flowers. It was darkened, for -the curtains were drawn. Queen Margot lay in bed, with the bedclothes -drawn up to her chin, and beside her, against the wall, sat, clad only -in his shirt, with his chest bared, the officer violinist. On his -breast was a scar which lay like a red streak from the right shoulder -to the nipple and was so vivid that even in the half-light I could see -it distinctly. The hair of the officer was ruffled comically, and for -the first time I saw a smile on his sad, furrowed countenance. He was -smiling strangely. His large, feminine eyes looked at the "queen" as if -it were the first time he had gazed upon her beauty.</p> - -<p>"This is my friend," said Queen Margot. I did not know whether she were -referring to me or to him.</p> - -<p>"What are you looking so frightened about?" I heard her voice as if -from a distance. "Come here."</p> - -<p>When I went to her she placed her hands on my bare neck and said:</p> - -<p>"You will grow up and you will be happy. Go along!"</p> - -<p>I put the book on the shelf, took another, and went away as best I -could.</p> - -<p>Something seemed to grate in my heart. Of course I did not think for a -moment that my queen loved as other women nor did the officer give me -reason to think so. I saw his face before me, with that smile. He was -smiling for joy, like a child who has been pleasantly surprised, and -his sad face was wonderfully transfigured. He had to love her. Could -any one not love her? And she also had cause to bestow her love upon -him generously. He played so wonderfully, and could quote poetry so -touchingly.</p> - -<p>But the very fact that I had to find these consolations showed me -clearly that all was not well with my attitude toward what I had seen -or even toward Queen Margot herself. I felt that I had lost something, -and I lived for several days in a state of deep dejection. One day I -was turbulently and recklessly insolent, and when I went to my lady for -a book, she said to me sternly:</p> - -<p>"You seem to be a desperate character from what I have heard. I did not -know that."</p> - -<p>I could not endure this, and I began to explain how nauseating I found -the life I had to lead, and how hard it was for me to hear people -speaking ill of her. Standing in front of me, with her hand on my -shoulder, she listened at first attentively and seriously; but soon she -was laughing and pushing me away from her gently.</p> - -<p>"That will do; I know all about it. Do you understand? I know."</p> - -<p>Then she took both my hands and said to me very tenderly:</p> - -<p>"The less attention you pay to all that, the better for you. You wash -your hands very badly."</p> - -<p>She need not have said this. If she had had to clean the brasses, and -wash the floor and the dirty cloths, her hands would not have been any -better than mine, I think.</p> - -<p>"When a person knows how to live, he is slandered; they are jealous of -him. And if he doesn't know how to live, they despise him," she said -thoughtfully, drawing me to her, and looking into my eyes with a smile. -"Do you love me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Very much?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"But how?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Thank you! You are a good boy. I like people to love me." She smiled, -looked as if she were going to say something more, but remained silent, -still keeping me in her arms. "Come oftener to see me; come whenever -you can."</p> - -<p>I took advantage of this, and she did me a lot of good. After dinner my -employers used to lie down, and I used to run down-stairs. If she was -at home, I would stay with her for an hour and sometimes even longer.</p> - -<p>"You must read Russian books; you must know all about Russian life."</p> - -<p>She taught me, sticking hair-pins into her fragrant hair with rosy -fingers. And she enumerated the Russian authors, adding:</p> - -<p>"Will you remember them?"</p> - -<p>She often said thoughtfully, and with an air of slight vexation:</p> - -<p>"We must have you taught, and I am always forgetting. <i>Ach</i>, my God!"</p> - -<p>After sitting with her, I ran down-stairs with a new book in my hands, -feeling as if I had been washed inside.</p> - -<p>I had already read Aksakov's "Family Chronicle," the glorious Russian -poem "In the Forests," the amazing "Memoirs of a Hunter," several -volumes of Grebenkov and Solugub, and the poetry of Venevitinov, -Odoevski, and Tutchev. These books laved my soul, washing away the -husks of barren and bitter reality. I felt that these were good books, -and realized that they were indispensable to me. One result of reading -them was that I gained a firm conviction that I was not alone in the -world, and the fact that I should not be lost took root in my soul.</p> - -<p>When grandmother came to see me I used to tell her joyfully about Queen -Margot, and she, taking a pinch of snuff with great enjoyment, said -heartily:</p> - -<p>"Well, well; that is very nice. You see, there are plenty of good -people about. You only have to look for them, and then you will find -them."</p> - -<p>And one day she suggested:</p> - -<p>"How would it be if I went to her and said thank you for what she does -for you?"</p> - -<p>"No; it is better not."</p> - -<p>"Well, if you don't want me to——Lord! Lord! how good it all is! I -would like to go on living for ever and ever!"</p> - -<p>Queen Margot never carried out her project of having me taught, for an -unpleasant affair happened on the feast of the Holy Trinity that nearly -ruined me.</p> - -<p>Not long before the holiday my eyelids became terribly swollen, and my -eyes were quite closed up. My employers were afraid that I should go -blind, and I also was afraid. They took me to the well-known doctor, -Genrikh Rodzevich, who lanced my eyelids and for days I lay with my -eyes bandaged, in tormenting, black misery. The day before the feast of -the Trinity my bandages were taken off, and I walked about once more, -feeling as if I had come back from a grave in which I had been laid -alive. Nothing can be more terrible than to lose one's sight. It is an -unspeakable injury which takes away a hundred worlds from a man.</p> - -<p>The joyful day of the Holy Trinity arrived, and, as an invalid, I -was off duty from noon and went to the kitchen to pay a visit to the -orderlies. All of them, even the strict Tuphyaev, were drunk, and -toward evening Ermokhin struck Sidorov on the head with a block of -wood. The latter fell senseless to the ground, and Ermokhin, terrified, -ran out to the causeway.</p> - -<p>An alarming rumor that Sidorov had been murdered soon spread over the -yard. People gathered on the steps and looked at the soldier stretched -motionless across the threshold. There were whispers that the police -ought to be sent for, but no one went to fetch them, and no one could -be persuaded to touch the soldier.</p> - -<p>Then the washerwoman Natalia Kozlovski, in a new, blue frock, with a -white neckerchief, appeared on the scene. She pushed the people aside -angrily, went into the entrance passage, squatted down, and said loudly:</p> - -<p>"Fools! He is alive! Give me some water!"</p> - -<p>They began to protest.</p> - -<p>"Don't meddle with what is not your business!"</p> - -<p>"Water, I tell you!" she cried, as if there were a fire. She lifted -her new frock over her knees in a businesslike manner, spread out her -underskirt, and laid the soldier's bleeding head on her knees.</p> - -<p>The crowd dispersed, disapproving and fearful.</p> - -<p>In the dim light of the passage I could see the eyes of the washerwoman -full of tears, flashing angrily in her white, round face. I took her a -pail of water, and she ordered me to throw it over the head and breast -of Sidorov with the caution:</p> - -<p>"Don't spill it over me. I am going to pay a visit to some friends."</p> - -<p>The soldier came to himself, opened his dull eyes, and moaned.</p> - -<p>"Lift him up," said Natalia, holding him under the armpits with her -hands outstretched lest he should soil her frock. We carried the -soldier into the kitchen and laid him on the bed. She wiped his face -with a wet cloth, and went away, saying:</p> - -<p>"Soak the cloth in water and hold it to his head. I will go and find -that fool. Devils! I suppose they won't be satisfied until they have -drunk themselves into prison."</p> - -<p>She went out, after slipping her soiled underpetticoat to the floor, -flinging it into a corner and carefully smoothing out her rustling, -crumpled frock.</p> - -<p>Sidorov stretched himself, hiccupped, sighed. Warm drops of thick blood -fell on my bare feet from his head. This was unpleasant, but I was too -frightened to move my feet away from those drops.</p> - -<p>It was bitter. The sun shone festively out in the yard; the steps -of the houses and the gate were decorated with young birch; to each -pedestal were tied freshly cut branches of maple and mountain ash. The -whole street was gay with foliage; everything was young, new. Ever -since the morning I had felt that the spring holiday had come to stay, -and that it had made life cleaner, brighter, and happier.</p> - -<p>The soldier was sick. The stifling odor of warm vodka and green onion -filled the kitchen. Against the window were pressed dull, misty, broad -faces, with flattened noses, and hands held against their cheeks, which -made them look hideous.</p> - -<p>The soldier muttered as he recollected himself:</p> - -<p>"What happened to me? Did I fall, Ermokhin? Go-o-od comrade!" Then he -began to cough, wept drunken tears, and groaned, "My little sister! my -little sister!"</p> - -<p>He stood up, tottering, wet. He staggered, and, falling back heavily -upon the bed, said, rolling his eyes strangely:</p> - -<p>"They have quite killed me!"</p> - -<p>This struck me as funny.</p> - -<p>"What the devil are you laughing at?" he asked, looking at me dully. -"What is there to laugh at? I am killed forever!"</p> - -<p>He began to hit out at me with both hands, muttering:</p> - -<p>"The first time was that of Elias the prophet; the second time, St. -George on his steed; the third—Don't come near me! Go away, wolf!"</p> - -<p>"Don't be a fool!" I said.</p> - -<p>He became absurdly angry, roared, and stamped his feet.</p> - -<p>"I am killed, and you—"</p> - -<p>With his heavy, slow, dirty hand he struck me in the eyes. I set up a -howl, and blindly made for the yard, where I ran into Natalia leading -Ermokhin by the arm, crying: "Come along, horse! What is the matter -with you?" she asked, catching hold of me.</p> - -<p>"He has come to himself."</p> - -<p>"Come to himself, eh?" she drawled in amazement. And drawing Ermokhin -along, she said, "Well, werwolf, you may thank your God for this!"</p> - -<p>I washed my eyes with water, and, looking through the door of the -passage, saw the soldiers make their peace, embracing each other and -crying. Then they both tried to embrace Natalia, but she hit out at -them, shouting:</p> - -<p>"Take your paws off me, curs! What do you take me for? Make haste and -get to sleep before your masters come home, or there will be trouble -for you!"</p> - -<p>She made them lie down as if they were little children, the one on the -floor, the other on the pallet-bed, and when they began to snore, came -out into the porch.</p> - -<p>"I am in a mess, and I was dressed to go out visiting, too! Did he -hit you? What a fool! That's what it does—vodka! Don't drink, little -fellow, never drink."</p> - -<p>Then I sat on the bench at the gate with her, and asked how it was that -she was not afraid of drunken people.</p> - -<p>"I am not afraid of sober people, either. If they come near me, this -is what they get!" She showed me her tightly clenched, red fist. "My -dead husband was also given to drink too much, and once when he was -drunk I tied his hands and feet. When he had slept it off, I gave him -a birching for his health. 'Don't drink; don't get drunk when you are -married,' I said. 'Your wife should be your amusement, and not vodka.' -Yes, I scolded him until I was tired, and after that he was like wax in -my hands."</p> - -<p>"You are strong," I said, remembering the woman Eve, who deceived even -God Himself.</p> - -<p>Natalia replied, with a sigh:</p> - -<p>"A woman needs more strength than a man. She has to have strength -enough for two, and God has bestowed it upon her. Man is an unstable -creature."</p> - -<p>She spoke calmly, without malice, sitting with her arms folded over her -large bosom, resting her back against the fence, her eyes fixed sadly -on the dusty gutter full of rubbish. Listening to her clever talk, -I forgot all about the time. Suddenly I saw my master coming along -arm in arm with the mistress. They were walking slowly, pompously, -like a turkey-cock with his hen, and, looking at us attentively, said -something to each other.</p> - -<p>I ran to open the front door for them, and as she came up the steps the -mistress said to me, venomously:</p> - -<p>"So you are courting the washerwoman? Are you learning to carry on with -ladies of that low class?"</p> - -<p>This was so stupid that it did not even annoy me but I felt offended -when the master said, laughing:</p> - -<p>"What do you expect? It is time."</p> - -<p>The next morning when I went into the shed for the wood I found an -empty purse, in the square hole which was made for the hook of the -door. As I had seen it many times in the hands of Sidorov I took it to -him at once.</p> - -<p>"Where is the money gone?" he asked, feeling inside the purse with his -fingers. "Thirty rubles there were! Give them here!"</p> - -<p>His head was enveloped in a turban formed of a towel. Looking yellow -and wasted, he blinked at me angrily with his swollen eyes, and refused -to believe that I had found the purse empty.</p> - -<p>Ermokhin came in and backed him up, shaking his head at me.</p> - -<p>"It is he who has stolen it. Take him to his master. Soldiers do not -steal from soldiers."</p> - -<p>These words made me think that he had stolen the money himself and -had thrown the purse into my shed. I called out to his face, without -hesitation:</p> - -<p>"Liar! You stole it yourself!"</p> - -<p>I was convinced that I had guessed right when I saw his wooden face -drawn crooked with fear and rage. As he writhed, he cried shrilly:</p> - -<p>"Prove it!"</p> - -<p>How could I prove it? Ermokhin dragged me, with a shout, across the -yard. Sidorov followed us, also shouting. Several people put their -heads out of the windows. The mother of Queen Margot looked on, -smoking calmly. I realized that I had fallen in the esteem of my lady, -and I went mad.</p> - -<p>I remember the soldiers dragging me by the arms and my employers -standing before them, sympathetically agreeing with them, as they -listened to the complaint. Also the mistress saying:</p> - -<p>"Of course he took it! He was courting the washerwoman at the gate last -evening, and he must have had some money. No one gets anything from her -without money."</p> - -<p>"That's true," cried Ermokhin.</p> - -<p>I was swept off my feet, consumed by a wild rage. I began to abuse the -mistress, and was soundly beaten.</p> - -<p>But it was not so much the beating which tortured me as the thought -of what my Queen Margot was now thinking of me. How should I ever set -myself right in her eyes? Bitter were my thoughts in that dreadful -time. I did not strangle myself only because I had not the time to do -so.</p> - -<p>Fortunately for me, the soldiers spread the story over the whole yard, -the whole street, and in the evening, as I lay in the attic, I heard -the loud voice of Natalia Kozlovski below.</p> - -<p>"No! Why should I hold my tongue? No, my dear fellow, get away! Get -along with you! Go away, I say! If you don't, I will go to your -gentleman, and he will give you something!"</p> - -<p>I felt at once that this noise was about me. She was shouting near our -steps; her voice rang out loudly and triumphantly.</p> - -<p>"How much money did you show me yesterday? Where did you get it from? -Tell us!"</p> - -<p>Holding my breath with joy, I heard Sidorov drawl sadly:</p> - -<p><i>"Aie! aie</i>! Ermokhin—"</p> - -<p>"And the boy has had the blame for it? He has been beaten for it, eh?"</p> - -<p>I felt like running down to the yard, dancing there for joy, kissing -the washerwoman out of gratitude; but at that moment, apparently from -the window, my mistress cried:</p> - -<p>"The boy was beaten because he was insolent. No one believed that he -was a thief except you, you slut!"</p> - -<p>"Slut yourself, madam! You are nothing better than a cow, if you will -permit me to say so."</p> - -<p>I listened to this quarrel as if it were music. My heart burned with -hot tears of self-pity, and gratitude to Natalia. I held my breath in -the effort to keep them back.</p> - -<p>Then the master came slowly up to the attic, sat on a projecting beam -near me, and said, smoothing his hair:</p> - -<p>"Well, brother Pyeshkov, and so you had nothing to do with it?"</p> - -<p>I turned my face away without speaking.</p> - -<p>"All the same, your language was hideous," he went on. I announced -quietly:</p> - -<p>"As soon as I can get up I shall leave you."</p> - -<p>He sat on in silence, smoking a cigarette. Looking fixedly at its end, -he said in a low voice:</p> - -<p>"What of it? That is your business. You are not a little boy any -longer; you must look about and see what is the best thing for -yourself."</p> - -<p>Then he went away. As usual, I felt sorry for him.</p> - -<p>Four days after this I left that house. I had a passionate desire to -say good-by to Queen Margot, but I had not the audacity to go to her, -though I confess I thought that she would have sent for me herself.</p> - -<p>When I bade good-by to the little girl I said:</p> - -<p>"Tell your mother that I thank her very much, will you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I will," she promised, and she smiled lovingly and tenderly. -"Good-by till to-morrow, eh? Yes?"</p> - -<p>I met her again twenty years later, married to an officer in the -<i>gendarmerie</i>.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></h5> - - -<p>Once more I became a washer-up on a steamboat, the <i>Perm</i>, a boat -as white as a swan, spacious, and swift. This time I was a "black" -washer-up, or a "kitchen man." I received seven rubles a month, and my -duties were to help the cook.</p> - -<p>The steward, stout and bloated, was as bald as a billiard-ball. He -walked heavily up and down the deck all day long with his hands clasped -behind his back, like a boar looking for a shady corner on a sultry -day. His wife flaunted herself in the buffet. She was a woman of about -forty, handsome, but faded, and so thickly powdered that her colored -dress was covered with the white, sticky dust that fell from her cheeks.</p> - -<p>The kitchen was ruled over by an expensive cook, Ivan Ivanovich, whose -surname was Medvyejenok. He was a small, stout man, with an aquiline -nose and mocking eyes. He was a coxcomb, wore starched collars, and -shaved every day. His cheeks were dark blue, and his dark mustaches -curled upward. He spent all his spare moments in the arrangement of -these mustaches, pulling at them with fingers stained by his work at -the stove, and looking at them in a small handglass.</p> - -<p>The most interesting person on the boat was the stoker, Yaakov Shumov, -a broad-chested, square man. His snub-nosed face was as smooth as a -spade; his coffee-colored eyes were hidden under thick eyebrows; his -cheeks were covered with small, bristling hairs, like the moss which -is found in marshes; and the same sort of hair, through which he could -hardly pass his crooked fingers, formed a close-fitting cap for his -head.</p> - -<p>He was skilful in games of cards for money, and his greed was amazing. -He was always hanging about the kitchen like a hungry dog, asking for -pieces of meat and bones. In the evenings he used to take his tea with -Medvyejenok and relate amazing stories about himself. In his youth he -had been assistant to the town shepherd of Riazin. Then a passing monk -lured him into a monastery, where he served for four years.</p> - -<p>"And I should have become a monk, a black star of God," he said in his -quick, comical way, "if a pilgrim had not come to our cloister from -Penza. She was very entertaining, and she upset me. 'Eh, you 're a fine -strong fellow,' says she, 'and I am a respectable widow and lonely. -You shall come to me,' she says. 'I have my own house, and I deal in -eider-down and feathers.' That suited me, and I went to her. I became -her lover, and lived with her as comfortably as warm bread in a oven, -for three years."</p> - -<p>"You lie hardily," Medvyejenok interrupted him, anxiously examining -a pimple on his nose. "If lies could make money, you would be worth -thousands."</p> - -<p>Yaakov hummed. The blue, bristling hairs moved on his impassive face, -and his shaggy mustaches quivered. After he had heard the cook's remark -he continued as calmly and quickly as before:</p> - -<p>"She was older than I, and she began to bore me. Then I must go and -take up with her niece, and she found it out, and turned me out by the -scruff of the neck."</p> - -<p>"And served you right, you did not deserve anything better," said the -cook as easily and smoothly as Yaakov himself.</p> - -<p>The stoker went on, with a lump of sugar in his cheek:</p> - -<p>"I was at a loose end till I came across an old Volodimerzian peddler. -Together we wandered all over the world. We went to the Balkan Hills -to Turkey itself, to Rumania, and to Greece, to different parts of -Austria. We visited every nation. Wherever there were likely to be -buyers, there we went, and sold our goods."</p> - -<p>"And stole others?" asked the cook, gravely.</p> - -<p>"'No? no!' the old man said to me. 'You must act honestly in a strange -land, for they are so strict here, it is said, that they will cut off -your head for a mere nothing.' It is true that I did try to steal, but -the result was not at all consoling. I managed to get a horse away from -the yard of a certain merchant, but I had done no more than that when -they caught me, knocked me about, and dragged me to the police station. -There were two of us. The other was a real horse-stealer, but I did it -only for the fun of the thing. But I had been working at the merchant's -house, putting in a new stove for his bath, and the merchant fell ill, -and had bad dreams about me, which alarmed him, so that he begged the -magistrate, 'Let him go,'—that was me, you know,—'let him go; for -I have had dreams about him, and if you don't let him off, you will -never be well. It is plain that he is a wizard.' That was me, if you -please—a wizard! However, the merchant was a person of influence, and -they let me go."</p> - -<p>"I should not have let you go. I should have let you lie in water for -three days to wash the foolery out of you," said the cook.</p> - -<p>Yaakov instantly seized upon his words.</p> - -<p>"True, there is a lot of folly about me, and that is the fact—enough -folly for a whole village."</p> - -<p>Thrusting his fingers into his tight collar, the cook angrily dragged -it up, and complained in a tone of vexation:</p> - -<p>"Fiddlesticks! How a villain like you can live, gorge himself, drink, -and stroll about the world, beats me. I should like to know what use -you are."</p> - -<p>Munching, the stoker, answered:</p> - -<p>"I don't know myself. I live, and that is all I can say about it. One -man lies down, and another walks about. A <i>chinovnik</i> leads a sedentary -life, but every one must eat."</p> - -<p>The cook was more incensed than ever.</p> - -<p>"You are such a swine that you are absolutely unbearable. Really, pigs' -food—"</p> - -<p>"What are you in such a rage about?" asked Yaakov, surprised. "All men -are acorns from the same oak. But don't you abuse me. It won't make me -any better, you know."</p> - -<p>This man attracted me and held me at once. I gazed at him with -unbounded astonishment, and listened to him with open mouth. I had an -idea that he possessed a deep knowledge of life. He said "thou" to -every one, looked at every one from under his bushy brows with the same -straight and independent glance, and treated every one—the captain, -the steward, and the first-class passengers, who were very haughty—as -if they were the equals of himself, the sailors, the waiters, and the -deck passengers.</p> - -<p>Sometimes he stood before the captain or the chief engineer, with his -ape-like hands clasped behind his back, and listened while they scolded -him for laziness, or for having unscrupulously won money at cards. -He listened, but it was evident that scolding made not the slightest -impression upon him, and that the threats to put him off the boat at -the first stopping-place did not frighten him. There was something -alien about him, as there had been about "Good Business." Evidently he -was aware of his own peculiarities and of the fact that people could -not understand him.</p> - -<p>I never once knew this man to be offended, and, when I think of it, -do not remember that he was ever silent for long. From his rough mouth -and, as it were, despite himself, a stream of words always flowed. -When he was being scolded or when he was listening to some interesting -story, his lips moved just as if he were repeating what he heard to -himself or simply continued speaking quietly to himself. Every day, -when he had finished his watch, he climbed out of the stoke-hole, -barefooted, sweating, smeared with naphtha, in a wet shirt without a -belt, showing his bare chest covered with thick, curly hair, and that -very minute his even, monotonous, deep voice could be heard across the -deck. His words followed one another like drops of rain.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, Mother! Where are you going? To Chistopol? I know it; I -have been there. I lived in the house of a rich Tatar workman; his name -was Usan Gubaildulin. The old man had three wives. A robust man he was, -with a red face, and one of his wives was young. An amu-u-sing little -Tatar girl she was."</p> - -<p>He had been everywhere, and apparently had committed sin with all the -women who had crossed his path. He spoke of every one without malice, -calmly, as he had never in his life been hurt or scolded. In a few -minutes his voice would be heard in the stern.</p> - -<p>"Good people, who will have a game of cards? Just a little flutter, -<i>ei?</i> Cards are a consolation. You can make money sitting down, a -profitable undertaking."</p> - -<p>I noticed that he hardly ever said that anything was good, bad, or -abominable, but always that it was amusing, consoling, or curious. A -beautiful woman was to him an amusing little female. A fine sunny day -was a consoling little day. But more often than anything else he said:</p> - -<p>"I spit upon it!"</p> - -<p>He was looked upon as lazy, but it seemed to me that he performed -his laborious task in that infernal, suffocating, and fetid heat -as conscientiously as any of the others. I never remember that he -complained of weariness or heat, as the other stokers did.</p> - -<p>One day some one stole a purse containing money from one of the old -women passengers. It was a clear, quiet evening; every one was amiable -and peaceably inclined. The captain gave the old woman five rubles. The -passengers also collected a small sum among themselves. When the old -woman was given the money, she crossed herself, and bowed low, saying:</p> - -<p>"Kind friends, you have given me three <i>greven</i> too much."</p> - -<p>Some one cried gayly:</p> - -<p>"Take it all, my good woman,—all that your eyes fall upon. Why do you -talk nonsense? No one can have too much."</p> - -<p>But Yaakov went to the old woman and said quite seriously:</p> - -<p>"Give me what you don't want; I will play cards with it."</p> - -<p>The people around laughed, thinking that the stoker was joking, but he -went on urging the confused woman perseveringly:</p> - -<p>"Come, give it to me, woman! What do you want the money for? To-morrow -you will be in the churchyard."</p> - -<p>They drove him away with abuse, but he said to me, shaking his head, -and greatly surprised:</p> - -<p>"How funny people are! Why do they interfere in what does not concern -them? She said herself that she had more than she wanted. And three -<i>greven</i> would have been very consoling to me."</p> - -<p>The very sight of money evidently pleased him. While he was talking he -loved to clean the silver and brass on his breeches, and would polish -coins till they shone. Moving his eyebrows up and down, he would gaze -at them, holding them in his crooked fingers before his snub-nosed -face. But he was not avaricious.</p> - -<p>One day he asked me to play with him, but I could not. "You don't know -how?" he cried. "How is that? And you call yourself educated! You must -learn. We will play for lumps of sugar."</p> - -<p>He won from me half a pound of the best sugar, and hid every lump in -his furry cheek. As soon as he found that I knew how to play he said:</p> - -<p>"Now we will play seriously for money. Have you any money?"</p> - -<p>"I have five rubles."</p> - -<p>"And I have two."</p> - -<p>As may be imagined, he soon won from me. Desiring to have my revenge, -I staked my jacket, worth five rubles, and lost. Then I staked my new -boots, and lost again. Yaakov said to me, unwillingly, almost crossly:</p> - -<p>"No, you don't know how to play yet; you get too hot about it. You must -go and stake everything, even your boots. I don't care for that sort of -thing. Come, take back your clothes and your money,—four rubles,—and -I will keep a ruble for teaching you. Agreed?"</p> - -<p>I was very grateful to him.</p> - -<p>"It is a thing to spit upon," he said in answer to my thanks. "A game -is a game, just an amusement, you know; but you would turn it into a -quarrel. And even in a quarrel it does n't do to get too warm. You -want to calculate the force of your blows. What have you to get in a -stew about? You are young; you must learn to hold yourself in. The -first time you don't succeed; five times you don't succeed; the seventh -time—spit! Go away, get yourself cool, and have another go! That is -playing the game."</p> - -<p>He delighted me more and more, and yet he jarred on me. Sometimes -his stories reminded me of grandmother. There was a lot in him which -attracted me, but his lifelong habit of dull indifference repelled me -violently.</p> - -<p>Once at sunset a drunken second-class passenger, a corpulent merchant -of Perm, fell overboard, and was carried away, struggling on the -red-gold waterway. The engineers hastily shut off steam, and the boat -came to a standstill, sending off a cloud of foam from the wheel, which -the red beams of the sun made look like blood. In that blood-red, -seething, caldron a dark body struggled, already far away from the -stern of the boat. Wild cries were heard from the river; one's heart -shook. The passengers also screamed, and jostled one another, rolling -about the deck, crowding into the stern. The friend of the drowning -man, also drunk, red, and bald, hit out with his fists and roared:</p> - -<p>"Get out of the way! I will soon get him!"</p> - -<p>Two sailors had already thrown themselves into the water, and were -swimming toward the drowning man. The boats were let down. Amid the -shouts of the commander and the shrieks of the women Yaakov's deep -voice rang out calmly and evenly:</p> - -<p>"He will be drowned; he will certainly be drowned, because he has his -clothes on. Fully dressed as he is, he must certainly drown. Look at -women for example. Why do they always drown sooner than men? Because -of their petticoats. A woman, when she falls into the water, goes -straight to the bottom, like a pound weight. You will see that he will -be drowned. I do not speak at random."</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, the merchant was drowned. They sought for him for -two hours, and failed to find him. His companion, sobered, sat on the -deck, and, panting heavily, muttered plaintively:</p> - -<p>"We are almost there. What will happen when we arrive, eh? What will -his family say? He had a family."</p> - -<p>Yaakov stood in front of him, with his hands behind his back, and began -to console him.</p> - -<p>"There is nothing to worry about. No one knows when he is destined to -die. One man will eat mushrooms, fall ill and die, while thousands of -people can eat mushrooms and be all the better for them. Yet one will -die. And what are mushrooms?"</p> - -<p>Broad and strong, he stood like a rock in front of the merchant, -and poured his words over him like bran. At first the merchant wept -silently, wiping the tears from his beard with his broad palms, but -when he had heard him out, he roared:</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by torturing me like this? Fellow-Christians, take -him away, or there will be murder!"</p> - -<p>Yaakov went away, calmly saying:</p> - -<p>"How funny people are! You go to them out of kindness, and all they do -is to abuse you!"</p> - -<p>Sometimes I thought the stoker a fool, but more often I thought that -he purposely pretended to be stupid. I asked him straight out about -his youth and his wanderings around the world. The result was not -what I meant it to be. Throwing his head back, almost closing his -dark, copper-colored eyes, he stroked his mossy face with his hand and -drawled:</p> - -<p>"People everywhere, Brother,—everywhere,—are simple as ants! And -where there are people, there is always trouble, I tell you! The -greater number, of course, are peasants. The earth is absolutely -strewn with <i>muzhiks</i>,—like autumn leaves, as we say. I have seen the -Bulgars, and Greeks, too, and those—what do you call them?—Serbians; -Rumanians also, and all kinds of Gipsies. Are there many different -sorts? What sort of people? What do you mean by that? In the towns -they are townspeople, and in the country—why, they are just like the -country people among us. They resemble them in many ways. Some of them -even speak our tongue, though badly, as, for instance, the Tatars and -the Mordovans. The Greeks cannot speak our language. They chatter -whatever comes into their heads, and it sounds like words; but what -they say or about what it is impossible to understand. You have to talk -on your fingers to them. But my old man managed to talk so that even -the Greeks understood him. He muttered something, and they knew what he -meant. An artful old man he was. He knew how to work upon them. Again -you want to know what sort of people? You funny fellow! What should -people be like? They were black, of course; and the Rumanians, too, -were of the same faith. The Bulgars are also black, but they hold the -same religion as ourselves. As for the Greeks, they are of the same -race as the Turks."</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that he was not telling me all he knew; that there was -something which he did not wish to tell. From illustrations in the -magazines I knew that the capital of Greece was Athens, an ancient -and most beautiful town. But Yaakov shook his head doubtfully as he -rejected the idea.</p> - -<p>"They have been telling you lies, my friend. There is no place called -Athens, but there is a place called Athon; only it is not a town, but -a hill with a monastery on it, and that is all. It is called the Holy -Hill of Athon. There are pictures of it; the old man used to sell them. -There is a town called Byelgorod, which stands on the Dounai River, -built in the style of Yaroslav or Nijni. Their towns are nothing out of -the ordinary, but their villages, that is another matter. Their women, -too—well, they are absolutely killingly pleasant. I very nearly stayed -there altogether for the sake of one. What the deuce was her name?"</p> - -<p>He rubbed his perspiring face hard with the palms of his hands, and his -coarse hair clicked softly. In his throat, somewhere deep down, rumbled -his laugh, like the rattle of a drum.</p> - -<p>"How forgetful a man can be! And yet, you know, we were—When she said -good-by to me—she cried, and I cried, too. Good—go-o—" Calmly and -with an entire absence of reticence, he began to instruct me in the way -to behave to women.</p> - -<p>We were sitting on the deck. The warm moonlight night swam to meet -us; the meadow-land of the shore was hardly visible beyond the silver -water. In the heavens twinkled yellow lights; these were certain stars -which had been captivated by the earth. All around there was movement, -sleeplessly palpitating, quiet; but real life was going on. Into this -pleasant, melancholy silence fell the hoarse words:</p> - -<p>"And so we let go of each other's hands and parted."</p> - -<p>Yaakov's stories were immodest, but not repulsive, for they were -neither boastful nor cruel, and there was a ring of artlessness and -sorrow in them. The moon in the sky was also shamelessly naked, and -moved me in the same way, setting me fretting for I knew not what. I -remembered only what was good, the very best thing in my life—Queen -Margot and the verses, unforgettable in their truth:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -Only a song has need of beauty,<br /> -While beauty has no need of songs.<br /> -</p> - -<p>Shaking off this dreamy mood as if it had been a light doze, I again -asked the stoker about his life and what he had seen.</p> - -<p>"You 're a funny fellow," he said. "What am I to tell you? I have seen -everything. You ask have I seen a monastery? I have. <i>Traktirs?</i> I have -seen them also. I have seen the life of a gentleman and the life of a -peasant. I have lived well-fed, and I have lived hungry."</p> - -<p>Slowly, as if he were crossing a deep stream by a shaky, dangerous -bridge, he recalled the past.</p> - -<p>"For instance, I was sitting in the police station after the -horse-stealing affair. 'They will send me to Siberia,' I was thinking -when the constable began to rage because the stove in his new house -smoked. I said to him, 'This is a business which I can set right -for you, your Honor,' He shut me up. 'It is a thing,' he grumbled, -'which the cleverest workman could not manage.' Then I said to him, -'Sometimes a shepherd is cleverer than a general.' I felt very brave -toward every one just then. Nothing mattered now, with Siberia before -me. 'All right; try,' he said, 'but if it smokes worse afterwards I -will break all your bones for you.' In two days I had finished the -work. The constable was astonished. '<i>Ach!</i>' he cried, 'you fool, you -blockhead! Why, you are a skilled workman, and you steal horses! How is -it?' I said to him, 'That was simply a piece of foolery, your Honor.' -'That's true,' he said, 'it was foolery. I am sorry for you.' 'Yes, I -am sorry,' he repeated. Do you see? A man in the police force, carrying -out his duties without remorse, and yet he was sorry for me."</p> - -<p>"Well, what happened then?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>"Nothing. He was sorry for me. What else should happen?"</p> - -<p>"What was the use of pitying you? You are like a stone."</p> - -<p>Yaakov laughed good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>"Funny fellow! A stone, you say? Well, one may feel for stones. A -stone also serves in its proper place; streets are paved with stones. -One ought to pity all kinds of materials; nothing is in its place by -chance. What is soil? Yet little blades of grass grow in it."</p> - -<p>When the stoker spoke like this, it was quite clear to me that he knew -something more than I could grasp.</p> - -<p>"What do you think of the cook?" I asked him.</p> - -<p>"Of Medvyejenok?" said Yaakov, calmly. "What do I think of him? There -is nothing to think about him at all."</p> - -<p>That was true. Ivan Ivanovich was so strictly correct and smooth that -one's thoughts could get no grip on him. There was only one interesting -thing about him: he loved the stoker, was always scolding him, and yet -always invited him to tea.</p> - -<p>One day he said to him:</p> - -<p>"If you had been my serf and I had been your master, I would have -flogged you seven times each week, you sluggard!"</p> - -<p>Yaakov replied in a serious tone:</p> - -<p>"Seven times? That's rather a lot!"</p> - -<p>Although he abused the stoker, the cook for some reason or other fed -him with all kinds of things. He would throw a morsel to him roughly -and say:</p> - -<p>"There. Gobble it up!"</p> - -<p>Yaakov would devour it without any haste, saying:</p> - -<p>"I am accumulating a reserve of strength through you, Ivan Ivanovich."</p> - -<p>"And what is the use of strength to you, lazy-bones?"</p> - -<p>"What is the use? Why, I shall live all the longer for it."</p> - -<p>"Why should you live, useless one?"</p> - -<p>"But useless people go on living. Besides, you know, it is very amusing -to be alive, is n't it? Living, Ivan Ivanovich, is a very comforting -business."</p> - -<p>"What an idiot!"</p> - -<p>"Why do you say that?"</p> - -<p>"I-di-ot!"</p> - -<p>"There's a way of speaking!" said Yaakov in amazement, and Medvyejenok -said to me:</p> - -<p>"Just think of it! We dry up our blood and roast the marrow out of our -bones in that infernal heat at the stoves while he guzzles like a boar!"</p> - -<p>"Every one must work out his own fate," said the stoker, masticating.</p> - -<p>I knew that to stoke the furnaces was heavier and hotter work than to -stand at the stove, for I had tried several times at night to stoke -with Yaakov, and it seemed strange to me that he did not enlighten -the cook with regard to the heaviness of his labors. Yes, this man -certainly had a peculiar knowledge of his own.</p> - -<p>They all scolded him,—the captain, the engineer, the first mate, -all of those who must have known he was not lazy. I thought it very -strange. Why did they not appraise him rightly? The stokers behaved -considerably better to him than the rest although they made fun of his -incessant chatter and his love of cards.</p> - -<p>I asked them: "What do you think of Yaakov? Is he a good man?"</p> - -<p>"Yaakov? He's all right. You can't upset him whatever you do, even if -you were to put hot coals in his chest."</p> - -<p>What with his heavy labor at the boilers, and his appetite of a horse, -the stoker slept but little. Often, when the watches were changed, -without changing his clothes, sweating and dirty, he stayed the whole -night on deck, talking with the passengers, and playing cards.</p> - -<p>In my eyes he was like a locked trunk in which something was hidden -which I simply must have, and I obstinately sought the key by which I -might open it.</p> - -<p>"What you are driving at, little brother, I cannot, for the life of me, -understand," he would say, looking at me with his eyes almost hidden -under his eyebrows. "It is a fact that I have traveled about the world -a lot. What about it? Funny fellow! You had far better listen to a -story I have to tell you about what happened to me once——"</p> - -<p>And he told me how there had lived, somewhere in one of the towns he -had passed through, a young consumptive lawyer who had a German wife—a -fine, healthy woman, without children. And this German woman was in -love with a dry-goods merchant. The merchant was married, and his wife -was beautiful and had three children. When he discovered that the -German woman was in love with him, he planned to play a practical joke -on her. He told her to meet him in the garden at night, and invited -two of his friends to come with him, hiding them in the garden among -the bushes.</p> - -<p>"Wonderful! When the German woman came, he said, 'Here she is, all -there!' And to her, he said, 'I am no use to you, lady; I am married. -But I have brought two of my friends to you. One of them is a widower, -and the other a bachelor.' The German woman—ach! she gave him such -a slap on the face that he fell over the garden bench, and then she -trampled his ugly mug and his thick head with her heel! I had brought -her there, for I was <i>dvornik</i> at the lawyer's house. I looked -through a chink in the fence, and saw how the soup was boiling. Then -the friends sprang out upon her, and seized her by the hair, and I -dashed over the fence, and beat them off. 'You must not do this, Mr. -Merchants!' I said. The lady had come trustfully, and he had imagined -that she had evil intentions. I took her away, and they threw a brick -at me, and bruised my head. She was overcome with grief, and almost -beside herself. She said to me, as we crossed the yard: 'I shall go -back to my own people, the Germans, as soon as my husband dies!' I said -to her, 'Of course you must go back to them.' And when the lawyer died, -she went away. She was very kind, and so clever, too! And the lawyer -was kind, too,—God rest his soul!"</p> - -<p>Not being quite sure that I had understood the meaning of this story, I -was silent. I was conscious of something familiar, something which had -happened before, something pitiless and blind about it. But what could -I say?</p> - -<p>"Do you think that is a good story?" asked Yaakov.</p> - -<p>I said something, making some confused objections, but he explained -calmly:</p> - -<p>"People who have more than is necessary are easily amused, but -sometimes, when they want to play a trick on some one, it turns out not -to be fun at all. It does n't come off as they expected. Merchants are -brainy people, of course. Commerce demands no little cleverness, and -the life of clever persons is very dull, you see, so they like to amuse -themselves."</p> - -<p>Beyond the prow, all in a foam, the river rushed swiftly. The seething, -running water was audible, the dark shore gliding slowly along with -it. On the deck lay snoring passengers. Among the benches, among the -sleeping bodies, a tall faded woman in a black frock, with uncovered -gray head, moved quietly, coming towards us. The stoker, nudging me, -said softly:</p> - -<p>"Look—she is in trouble!"</p> - -<p>And it seemed to me that other people's griefs were amusing to him. He -told me many stories, and I listened greedily. I remember his stories -perfectly, but I do not remember one of them that was happy. He spoke -more calmly than books. In books, I was often conscious of the feelings -of the writer,—of his rage, his joy, his grief, his mockery; but the -stoker never mocked, never judged. Nothing excited either his disgust -or his pleasure to any extent. He spoke like an impartial witness at -a trial, like a man who was a stranger alike to accuser, accused, -and judge. This equanimity aroused in me an ever-increasing sense of -irritated sorrow, a feeling of angry dislike for Yaakov.</p> - -<p>Life burned before his eyes like the flame of the stove beneath the -boilers. He stood in front of the stove with a wooden mallet in his -pock-marked, coffee-colored hands, and softly struck the edge of the -regulator, diminishing or increasing the heat.</p> - -<p>"Hasn't all this done you harm?"</p> - -<p>"Who would harm me? I am strong. You see what blows I can give!"</p> - -<p>"I am not speaking of blows, but has not your soul been injured?"</p> - -<p>"The soul cannot be hurt. The soul does not receive injuries," he said. -"Souls are not affected by any human agency, by anything external."</p> - -<p>The deck passengers, the sailors, every one, in fact, used to speak of -the soul as often and as much as they spoke of the land, of their work, -of food and women. "Soul" is the tenth word in the speech of simple -people, a word expressive of life and movement.</p> - -<p>I did not like to hear this word so habitually on people's slippery -tongues, and when the peasants used foul language, defiling their -souls, it struck me to the heart.</p> - -<p>I remember so well how carefully grandmother used to speak of the -soul,—that secret receptacle of love, beauty, and joy. I believed -that, after the death of a good person, white angels carried his soul -to the good God of my grandmother, and He greeted it with tenderness.</p> - -<p>"Well, my dear one, my pure one, thou hast suffered and languished -below."</p> - -<p>And He would give the soul the wings of seraphim—six white wings. -Yaakov Shumov spoke of the soul as carefully, as reluctantly, and -as seldom as grandmother. When he was abused, he never blasphemed, -and when others discussed the soul he said nothing, bowing his red, -bull-like neck. When I asked him what the soul was like, he replied:</p> - -<p>"The soul is the breath of God."</p> - -<p>This did not enlighten me much, and I asked for more; upon which the -stoker, inclining his head, said:</p> - -<p>"Even priests do not know much about the soul, little brother; that is -hidden from us."</p> - -<p>He held my thoughts continually, in a stubborn effort to understand -him, but it was an unsuccessful effort. I saw nothing else but him. He -shut out everything else with his broad figure.</p> - -<p>The stewardess bore herself towards me with suspicious kindness. In the -morning, I was deputed to take hot water for washing to her, although -this was the duty of the second-class chambermaid, Lusha, a fresh, -merry girl. When I stood in the narrow cabin, near the stewardess, who -was stripped to the waist, and looked upon her yellow body, flabby -as half-baked pastry, I thought of the lissom, swarthy body of "Queen -Margot," and felt disgusted. And the stewardess talked all the time, -now complainingly and scolding, now crossly and mockingly.</p> - -<p>I did not grasp the meaning of her speech, although I dimly guessed at -it—at its pitiful, low, shameful meaning. But I was not disturbed by -it. I lived far away from the stewardess, and from all that went on in -the boat. I lived behind a great rugged rock, which hid from me all -that world. All that went on during those days and nights flowed away -into space.</p> - -<p>"Our Gavrilovna is quite in love with you." I heard the laughing words -of Lusha as in a dream. "Open your mouth, and take your happiness."</p> - -<p>And not only did she make fun of me, but all the dining-room attendants -knew of the weakness of their mistress. The cook said, with a frown:</p> - -<p>"The woman has tasted everything, and now she has a fancy for pastry! -People like that——! You look, Pyeshkov, before you leap."</p> - -<p>And Yaakov also gave me paternal advice.</p> - -<p>"Of course, if you were a year or two older, I should give you -different advice, but at your age, it is better for you to keep -yourself to yourself. However, you must do as you like."</p> - -<p>"Shut up!" said I. "The whole thing is disgusting."</p> - -<p>"Of course it is."</p> - -<p>But almost immediately after this, trying to make the limp hair on -his head stand up with his fingers, he said tersely, in well-rounded -periods:</p> - -<p>"Well, one must look at it from her point of view, too. She has a -miserable, comfortless job. Even a dog likes to be stroked, and how -much more a human being. A female lives by caresses, as a mushroom by -moisture. She ought to be ashamed of herself, but what is she to do?"</p> - -<p>I asked, looking intently into his elusive eyes:</p> - -<p>"Do you begrudge her that, then?"</p> - -<p>"What is she to me? Is she my mother? And if she were——But you are a -funny fellow!"</p> - -<p>He laughed in a low voice, like the beating of a drum.</p> - -<p>Sometimes when I looked at him, I seemed to be falling into silent -space, into a bottomless pit full of twilight.</p> - -<p>"Every one is married but you, Yaakov. Why have n't you ever married?"'</p> - -<p>"Why? I have always been a favorite with the women, thank God, but it's -like this. When one is married, one has to live in one place, settle -down on the land. My land is very poor, a very small piece, and my -uncle has taken even that from me. When my young brother came back from -being a soldier, he fell out with our uncle, and was brought before -the court for punching his head. There was blood shed over the matter, -in fact. And for that they sent him to prison for a year and a half. -When you come out of prison, son, there is only one road for you; and -that leads back to prison again. His wife was such a pleasant young -woman—but what is the use of talking about it? When one is married, -one ought to be master of one's own stable. But a soldier is not even -master of his own life."</p> - -<p>"Do you say your prayers?"</p> - -<p>"You fun—n—y—y fellow, of course I do!"</p> - -<p>"But how?"</p> - -<p>"All kinds of ways."</p> - -<p>"What prayers do you say?"</p> - -<p>"I know the night prayers. I say quite simply, my brother: 'Lord Jesus, -while I live, have mercy on me, and when I am dead give me rest. Save -me, Lord, from sickness——' and one or two other things I say."</p> - -<p>"What things?"</p> - -<p>"Several things. Even what you don't say, gets to Him."</p> - -<p>His manner to me was kind, but full of curiosity, as it might have been -to a clever kitten which could perform amusing tricks. Sometimes, when -I was sitting with him at night, when he smelt of naphtha, burning oil, -and onions, for he loved onions and used to gnaw them raw, like apples, -he would suddenly ask:</p> - -<p>"Now, Olekha, lad, let's have some poetry."</p> - -<p>I knew a lot of verse by heart, besides which I had a large notebook -in which I had copied my favorites. I read "Rousslan" to him,' and he -listened without moving, like a deaf and dumb man, holding his wheezy -breath. Then he said to me in a low voice:</p> - -<p>"That's a pleasant, harmonious, little story. Did you make it up -yourself? There is a gentleman called Mukhin Pushkin. I have seen him."</p> - -<p>"But this man was killed ever so long ago."</p> - -<p>"What for?"</p> - -<p>I told him the story in short words, as "Queen Margot" had told it to -me. Yaakov listened, and then said calmly:</p> - -<p>"Lots of people are ruined by women."</p> - -<p>I often told him similar stories which I had read in books. They were -all mixed up, effervescing in my mind into one long story of disturbed, -beautiful lives, interspersed with flames of passion. They were full -of senseless deeds of heroism, blue-blooded nobility, legendary feats, -duels and deaths, noble words and mean actions. Rokambol was confused -with the knightly forms of Lya-Molya and Annibal Kokonna, Ludovic XI -took the form of the Père Grandet, the Comet Otletaev was mixed up with -Henry IV. This story, in which I changed the character of the people -and altered events according to my inspiration, became a whole world -to me. I lived in it, free as grand-father's God, Who also played with -every one as it pleased Him. While not hindering me from seeing the -reality, such as it was, nor cooling my desire to understand living -people, nevertheless this bookish chaos hid me by a transparent but -impenetrable cloud from much of the infectious obscenity, the venomous -poison of life. Books rendered many evils innocuous for me. Knowing -how people loved and suffered, I could never enter a house of ill -fame. Cheap depravity only roused a feeling of repulsion and pity for -those to whom it was sweet. Rokambol taught me to be a Stoic, and not -be conquered by circumstances. The hero of Dumas inspired me with the -desire to give myself for some great cause. My favorite hero was the -gay monarch, Henry IV, and it seemed to me that the glorious songs of -B?ranger were written about him.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -He relieved the peasants of their taxes,<br /> -And himself he loved to drink.<br /> -Yes, and if the whole nation is happy,<br /> -Why should the king not drink?<br /> -</p> - -<p>Henry IV was described in novels as a kind man, in touch with his -people. Bright as the sun, he gave me the idea that France—the most -beautiful country in the whole world, the country of the knights—was -equally great, whether represented by the mantle of a king or the dress -of a peasant. Ange Piutou was just as much a knight as D'Artagnan. When -I read how Henry was murdered, I cried bitterly, and ground my teeth -with hatred of Ravaillac. This king was nearly always the hero of the -stories I told the stoker, and it seemed to me that Yaakov also loved -France and "Khenrik."</p> - -<p>"He was a good man was King 'Khenrik,' whether he was punishing rebels, -or whatever he was doing," he said.</p> - -<p>He never exclaimed, never interrupted my stories with questions, but -listened in silence, with lowered brows and immobile face, like an old -stone covered with fungus growth. But if, for some reason, I broke off -my speech, he at once asked:</p> - -<p>"Is that the end?"</p> - -<p>"Not yet."</p> - -<p>"Don't leave off, then!"</p> - -<p>Of the French nation he said, sighing:</p> - -<p>"They had a very easy time of it!"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you and I have to live in the heat. We have to labor, while they -lived at ease. They had nothing to do but to sing and walk about—a -very consoling life!"</p> - -<p>"They worked, too!"</p> - -<p>"It doesn't say so in your stories," observed the stoker with truth, -and I suddenly realized clearly that the greater number of the books -which I had read hardly ever spoke of the heroes working, or of the -hardships they had to encounter.</p> - -<p>"Now I am going to sleep for a short time," said Yaakov, and falling -back where he lay, he was soon snoring peacefully.</p> - -<p>In the autumn, when the shores of the Kama were turning red, the leaves -were taking a golden tinge, and the crosswise beams of the sun grew -pallid, Yaakov unexpectedly left the boat. The day before, he had said -to me:</p> - -<p>"The day after to-morrow, you and I, my lad, will be in Perm. We will -go to the bath, steam ourselves to our hearts' content, and when we -have finished will go together to a Traktir. There is music and it is -very pleasant. I like to see them playing on those machines."</p> - -<p>But at Sarapulia there came on the boat a stout man with a flabby, -womanish face. He was beardless and whiskerless. His long warm cloak, -his cap with ear flaps of fox fur, increased his resemblance to a -woman. He at once engaged a small table near the kitchen, where it was -warmest, asked for tea to be served to him, and began to drink the -yellow boiling liquid. As he neither unfastened his coat nor removed -his cap, he perspired profusely.</p> - -<p>A fine rain fell unweariedly from the autumn mist. It seemed to me -that when this man wiped the sweat from his face with his checked -handkerchief, the rain fell less, and in proportion as he began to -sweat again, it began to rain harder.</p> - -<p>Very soon Yaakov appeared, and they began to look at a map together. -The passenger drew his finger across it, but Yaakov said:</p> - -<p>"What's that? Nothing! I spit upon it!"</p> - -<p>"All right," said the passenger, putting away the map in a leather bag -which lay on his knees. Talking softly together, they began to drink -tea.</p> - -<p>Before Yaakov went to his watch, I asked him what sort of a man this -was. He replied, with a laugh:</p> - -<p>"To see him, he might be a dove. He is a eunuch, that's what he is. -He comes from Siberia—a long way off! He is amusing; he lives on a -settlement."</p> - -<p>Setting his black strong heels on the deck, like hoofs, once again he -stopped, and scratched his side.</p> - -<p>"I have hired myself to him as a workman. So when we get to Perm, I -shall leave the boat, and it will be good-by to you, lad ? We shall -travel by rail, then by river, and after that by horses. For five weeks -we shall have to travel, to get to where the man has his colony."</p> - -<p>"Did you know him before?" I asked, amazed at his sudden decision.</p> - -<p>"How should I know him? I have never seen him before. I have never -lived anywhere near him."</p> - -<p>In the morning Yaakov, dressed in a short, greasy fur-coat, with -sandals on his bare feet, wearing Medvyejenok's tattered, brimless -straw hat, took hold of my arm with his iron grasp, and said:</p> - -<p>"Why don't you come with me, eh? He will take you as well, that dove, -if you only tell him you want to go. Would you like to? Shall I tell -him? They will take away from you something which you will not need, -and give you money. They make a festival of it when they mutilate a -man, and they reward him for it."</p> - -<p>The eunuch<a name="FNanchor_1_6" id="FNanchor_1_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_6" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> stood on board, with a white bundle under his arm, 2nd -looked stubbornly at Yaakov with his dull eyes, which were heavy and -swollen, like those of a drowned person. I abused him in a low voice, -and the stoker once more took hold of my arm.</p> - -<p>"Let him alone! There's no harm in him. Every one has his own way of -praying. What business is it of ours? Well, good-by. Good luck, to -you!" And Yaakov Shumov went away, rolling from side to side like a -bear, leaving in my heart an uneasy, perplexed feeling. I was sorry -to lose the stoker, and angry with him. I was, I remember, a little -jealous and I thought fearfully, "Fancy a man going away like that, -without knowing where he is going!"</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_6" id="Footnote_1_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_6"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Skoptsi, or eunuchs, form a sect in Russia, or rather -part of the schism known as the Old Believers. Sexual purity being -enjoined on its members, and the practice of it being found to be lax, -mutilation was resorted to.</p></div> - -<p>And what sort of a man was he—Yaakov Shumov?</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></h5> - - -<p>Late in the autumn, when the steamboat voyages finished, I went as -pupil in the workshop of an icon painter. But in a day or two my -mistress, a gentle old lady given to tippling, announced to me in her -Vladimirski speech:</p> - -<p>"The days are short now and the evenings long, so you will go to the -shop in the mornings, and be shop-boy. In the evenings you will learn."</p> - -<p>She placed me under the authority of a small, swift-footed shopman, a -young fellow with a handsome, false face. In the mornings, in the cold -twilight of dawn, I went with him right across the town, up the sleepy -mercantile street, Ilnik, to the Nijni bazaar, and there, on the second -floor of the Gostini Dvor, was the shop. It had been converted from a -warehouse into a shop, and was dark, with an iron door, and one small -window on the terrace, protected by iron bars. The shop was packed with -icons of different sizes, with image-cases, and with highly finished -books in church Slav characters, bound in yellow leather. Beside our -shop there was another, in which were also sold icons and books, by -a black-bearded merchant, kinsman to an Old Believer valuer. He was -celebrated beyond the Volga as far as the boundaries of Kirjinski, and -was assisted by his lean and lively son, who had the small gray face -of in old man, and the restless eyes of a mouse.</p> - -<p>When I had opened the shop, I had to run to the tavern for boiling -water, and when I had finished breakfast, I had to set the shop in -order, dust the goods, and then go out on the terrace and watch with -vigilant eyes, lest customers should enter the neighboring shop.</p> - -<p>"Customers are fools," said the shopman forcibly to me. "They don't -mind where they buy, so long as it is cheap, and they do not understand -the value of the goods."</p> - -<p>Lightly tapping the wooden surface of an icon, he aired his slight -knowledge of the business to me. He instructed me:</p> - -<p>"This is a clever piece of work—very cheap—three or four -vershoks—stands by itself. Here is another—six or seven -vershoks—stands by itself. Do you know about the saints? Remember -Boniface is a protection against drink; Vvaara, the great martyr, -against toothache and death by accident; Blessed Vassili, against -fevers. Do you know all about Our Lady? Look! This is Our Lady of -Sorrows, and Our Lady of Abalak, Most Renowned. Do not weep for me, -Mother. Assuage my griefs. Our lady of Kazan, of Pokrove; Our Lady of -Seven Dolors."</p> - -<p>I soon remembered the prices of the icons, according to their size and -the work on them, and learned to distinguish between the different -images of Our Lady. But to remember the significations of the various -saints was difficult.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I would be standing at the door of the shop, dreaming, when -the shopman would suddenly test my knowledge.</p> - -<p>"Who is the deliverer from painful childbirth?"</p> - -<p>If I answered wrongly, he would ask scornfully:</p> - -<p>"What is the use of your head?"</p> - -<p>Harder still was it for me to tout for customers. The hideously painted -icons did not please me at all, and I did not like having to sell them. -According to grandmother's stories, I had imagined Our Lady as young, -beautiful, and good, just as she was in pictures. in the magazines, but -the icons represented her as old and severe, with a long crooked nose, -and wooden hands.</p> - -<p>On market days, Wednesdays and Fridays, business was brisk. Peasants, -old women, and sometimes whole families together, appeared on the -terrace,—all old Ritualists from Zavoljia, suspicious and surly people -of the forests. I would see, perhaps, coming along slowly, almostly -timidly, across the gallery, a ponderous man wrapped in sheepskin and -thick, homemade cloth, and I would feel awkward and ashamed at having -to accost him. At last by a great effort I managed to intercept him, -and revolving about his feet in their heavy boots, I chanted in a -constrained, buzzing voice:</p> - -<p>"What can we do for you, your honor? We have psalters with notes and -comments, the books of Ephrem Siren, Kyrillov, and all the canonical -books and breviaries. Please come and look at them. All kinds of -icons, whatever you want, at various prices. Only the best work,—dark -colors! We take orders, too, if you wish it, for all kinds of saints -and madonnas. Perhaps you would like to order something for a Name Day, -or for your family? This is the best workshop in Russia! Here are the -best goods in the town!"</p> - -<p>The impervious and inscrutable customer would look at me for a long -time in silence. Suddenly pushing me aside with an arm like a piece of -wood, he would go into the shop next door, and my shopman, rubbing his -large ears, grumbled angrily:</p> - -<p>"You have let him go! You're a nice salesman!"</p> - -<p>In the next shop could be heard a soft, sweet voice, pouring forth a -speech which had the effect of a narcotic.</p> - -<p>"We don't sell sheepskins or boots, my friend, but the blessing of -God, which is of more value than silver or gold; which, in fact, is -priceless."</p> - -<p>"The devil!" whispered our shopman, full of envy and almost beside -himself with rage. "A curse on the eyes of that muzhik! You must learn! -You must learn!"</p> - -<p>I did honestly try to learn, for one ought to do well whatever one has -to do. But I was not a success at enticing the customers in, nor as a -salesman. These gruff men, so sparing of their words, those old women -who looked like rats, always for some reason timid and abject, aroused -my pity, and I wanted to tell them on the quiet the real value of the -icons, and not ask for the extra two <i>greven</i>.</p> - -<p>They amazed me by their knowledge of books, and of the value of the -painting on the icons. One day a gray-haired old man whom I had herded -into the shop said to me shortly:</p> - -<p>"It is not true, my lad, that your image workshop is the best in -Russia—the best is Rogoshin's in Moscow."</p> - -<p>In confusion I stood aside for him to pass, and he went to another -shop, not even troubling to go next door.</p> - -<p>"Has he gone away?" asked the shopman spitefully.</p> - -<p>"You never told me about Rogoshin's workshop."</p> - -<p>He became abusive.</p> - -<p>"They come in here so quietly, and all the time they know all there is -to know, curse them! They understand all about the business, the dogs!"</p> - -<p>Handsome, overfed, and selfish, he hated the peasants. When he was in a -good humor, he would complain to me:</p> - -<p>"I am clever! I like cleanliness and scents, incense, and -eau-de-Cologne, and though I set such a value on myself, I am obliged -to bow and scrape to some peasant, to get five copecks' profit out of -him for the mistress. Do you think it is fair? What is a peasant, after -all? A bundle of foul wool, a winter louse, and yet——"</p> - -<p>And he fell into an indignant silence.</p> - -<p>I liked the peasants. There was something elusive about each one of -them which reminded me of Yaakov.</p> - -<p>Sometimes there would climb into the shop a miserable-looking figure -in a <i>chapan</i>, put on over a short, fur-coat. He would take off his -shaggy cap, cross himself with two fingers, look into the corner where -the lamp glimmered, yet try not to, lest his eyes rest on the unblessed -icons. Then glancing around, without speaking for some time, he would -manage at length to say:</p> - -<p>"Give me a psalter with a commentary."</p> - -<p>Tucking up the sleeves of his <i>chapan</i>, he would read the pages, as he -turned them over with clumsy movement, biting his lips the while.</p> - -<p>"Haven't you any more ancient than this?"</p> - -<p>"An old one would cost a thousand rubles, as you know."</p> - -<p>"I know."</p> - -<p>The peasant moistened his finger as he turned over the leaves, and -there was left a dark finger-print where he had touched them. The -shopman, gazing with an evil expression at the back of his head, said:</p> - -<p>"The Holy Scriptures are all of the same age; the word of God does not -change."</p> - -<p>"We know all about that; we have heard that! God did not change it, but -Nikon<a name="FNanchor_1_7" id="FNanchor_1_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_7" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> did."</p> - -<p>Closing the book, he went out in silence.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_7" id="Footnote_1_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_7"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The Nikonites are the followers of Nikon, patriarch -of Moscow, who objected to the innovation of Peter the Great in -suppressing the patriarchate of Moscow, and establishing a State Church -upon the lines of the old patriarchal church. They are also termed the -Old Believers, who are split up into several extraordinary schisms -which existed before and after the suppression of the patriarchate, but -who, in the main, continue their orthodoxy.</p></div> - -<p>Sometimes these forest people disputed with the shopman, and it was -evident to me that they knew more about the sacred writings than he did.</p> - -<p>"Outlandish heathen!" grumbled the shopman.</p> - -<p>I saw also that, although new books were not to the taste of the -peasants, they looked upon a new book with awe, handling it carefully, -as if it were a bird which might fly out of their hands. This was very -pleasant to me to see, because a book was a miracle to me. In it was -inclosed the soul of the writer, and when I opened it, I set this soul -free, and it spoke to me in secret.</p> - -<p>Often old men and women brought books to sell printed in the old -characters of the pre-Nikonovski period, or copies of such books, -beautifully made by the monks of Irgiz and Kerjentz. They also brought -copies of missals uncorrected by Dmitry Rostovski, icons with ancient -inscriptions, crosses, folding icons with brass mountings, and silver, -eucharist spoons given by the Muscovite princes to their hosts as -keepsakes. All these were offered secretly, from their hoards under the -floor.</p> - -<p>Both my shopman and his neighbor kept a very sharp lookout for such -vendors, each trying to take them away from the other. Having bought -antiques for anything up to ten rubles, they would sell them on the -market-place to rich Old Ritualists for hundreds of rubles.</p> - -<p>"Mind you look out for those were-wolves, those wizards! Look for them -with all your eyes; they bring luck with them."</p> - -<p>When a vendor of this kind appeared, the shopman used to send me to -fetch the valuer, Petr Vassilich, a connoisseur in old books, icons, -and all kind of antiques.</p> - -<p>He was a tall old man with a long beard, like Blessed Vassili, with -intelligent eyes in a pleasant face. The tendon of one of his legs -had been removed, and he walked lame, with a long stick. Summer and -winter he wore a light garment, like a cassock, and a velvet cap of a -strange shape, which looked like a saucepan. Usually brisk and upright, -when he entered the shop, he let his shoulders droop, and bent his -back, sighing gently and crossing himself often, muttering prayers and -psalms to himself all the time. This pious and aged feebleness at once -inspired the vendor with confidence in the valuer.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter? Has something gone wrong?" the old man would ask.</p> - -<p>"Here is a man who has brought an icon to sell. He says it is a -Stroganovski."</p> - -<p>"What!"</p> - -<p>"A Stroganovski."</p> - -<p>"Aha, my hearing is bad. The Lord has stopped my ears against the -abomination of the Nikonites."</p> - -<p>Taking off his cap, he held the icon horizontally, looked at the -inscription lengthways, sideways, straight up, examined the knots in -the wood, blinked, and murmured:</p> - -<p>"The godless Nikonites, observing our love of ancient beauties, and -instructed by the devil, have maliciously made forgeries. In these days -it is very easy to make holy images,—oh, very easy! At first sight, -this might be a real Stroganovski, or an Ustiujcki painting, or even a -Suzdulski, but when you look into it, it is a forgery."</p> - -<p>If he said "forgery," it meant, "This icon is precious and rare."</p> - -<p>By a series of pre-arranged signs, he informed the shopman how much he -was to give for the icon or book. I knew that the words "melancholy" -and "affliction" meant ten rubles. "Nikon the tiger" meant twenty-five. -I felt ashamed to see how they deceived the sellers, but the skilful -by-play of the valuer amused me.</p> - -<p>"Those Nikonites, black children of Nikon the tiger, will do -anything,—led by the Devil as they are! Look! Even this signature -looks real, and the bas-relief as if it were painted by the one hand. -But look at the face—that was not done by the same brush. An old -master like Pimen Ushakov, although he was a heretic, did the whole -icon himself. He did the bas-relief, the face, and even the chasing -very carefully, and sketched in the inscription, but the impious people -of our day cannot do anything like it! In old times image painting was -a holy calling, but now they make what concerns God merely a matter of -art."</p> - -<p>At length he laid the icon down carefully on the counter, and putting -on his hat, said:</p> - -<p>"It is a sin!"</p> - -<p>This meant "buy it."</p> - -<p>Overwhelmed by his flow of sweet words, astounded by the old man's -knowledge, the client would ask in an impressed tone:</p> - -<p>"Well, your honor, what is your opinion of the icon?"</p> - -<p>"The icon was made by Nikonite hands."</p> - -<p>"That cannot be! My grandfather and my grandmother prayed before it!"</p> - -<p>"Nikon lived before your grandfather lived."</p> - -<p>The old man held the icon close to the face of the seller, and said -sternly:</p> - -<p>"Look now what a joyous expression it has! Do you call that an icon? -It is nothing more than a picture—a blind work of art, a Nikonski -joke—there is no soul in it! Would I tell you what is not true? I, an -old man, persecuted for the sake of the truth! I shall soon have to go -to God. I have nothing to gain by acting unfairly."</p> - -<p>He went out from the shop onto the terrace, languid with the feebleness -of old age, offended by the doubt cast upon his valuation. The shopman -paid a few rubles for the picture, the seller left, bowing low to Petr -Vassilich, and they sent me to the tavern to get boiling water for -the tea. When I returned, I would find the valuer brisk and cheerful, -looking lovingly at the purchase, and thus instructing the shopman:</p> - -<p>"Look, this icon has been very carefully done! The painting is very -fine, done in the fear of God. Human feelings had no part in it."</p> - -<p>"And whose work is it?" asked the shopman, beaming and jumping about -for joy.</p> - -<p>"It is too soon for you to know that."</p> - -<p>"But how much would connoisseurs give for it?" "That I could not say. -Give it to me, and I will show it to some one."</p> - -<p>"Och, Petr Vassilich."</p> - -<p>"And if I sell it, you shall have half the hundred rubles. Whatever -there is over, that is mine!"</p> - -<p>"Och!"</p> - -<p>"You need not keep on saying 'Och'!"</p> - -<p>They drank their tea, bargaining shamelessly, looking at one another -with the eyes of conspirators. That the shopman was completely under -the thumb of the old man was plain, and when the latter went away, he -would say to me:</p> - -<p>"Now don't you go chattering to the mistress about this deal."</p> - -<p>When they had finished talking about the sale of the icon, the shopman -would ask:</p> - -<p>"And what news is there in the town, Petr Vassilich?"</p> - -<p>Smoothing his beard with his yellow fingers, laying bare his oily lips, -the old man told stories of the lives of the merchants. He spoke of -commercial successes, of feasts, of illnesses, of weddings, and of the -infidelities of husbands and wives. He served up these greasy stories -quickly and skilfully, as a good cook serves up pancakes, with a sauce -of hissing laughter. The shopman's round face grew dark with envy -and rapture. His eyes were wide with dreamy wistfulness, as he said -complainingly:</p> - -<p>"Other people live, and here am I!"</p> - -<p>"Every one has his appointed destiny," resounded the deep voice. "Of -one, the fate is heralded by angels with little silver hammers, and of -another, by devils with the butt-end of an ax."</p> - -<p>This strong, muscular, old man knew everything—the whole life of -the town, all the secrets of the merchants, chinovniks, priests, and -citizens. He was keensighted as a bird of prey, and with this had some -of the qualities of the wolf and fox. I always wanted to make him -angry, but he looked at me from afar, almost as if through a fog. He -seemed to me to be surrounded by a limitless space. If one went closer -to him, one seemed to be falling. I felt in him some affinity to the -stoker Shumov.</p> - -<p>Although the shopman went into ecstasies over his cleverness, both to -his face and behind his back, there were times when, like me, he wanted -to provoke or offend the old man.</p> - -<p>"You are a deceiver of men," he would say, suddenly looking heatedly -into the old man's face.</p> - -<p>The latter, smiling lazily, answered:</p> - -<p>"Only the Lord lives without deceit, and we live among fools, you see. -Can one meet fools, and not deceive them? Of what use would they be, -then?"</p> - -<p>The shopman lost his temper.</p> - -<p>"Not all the peasants are fools. The merchants themselves came from the -peasantry!"</p> - -<p>"We are not talking about merchants. Fools do not live as rogues do. A -fool is like a saint—his brains are asleep."</p> - -<p>The old man drawled more and more lazily, and this was very irritating. -It seemed to me that he was standing on a hillock in the midst of a -quagmire. It was impossible to make him angry. Either he was above -rage, or he was able to hide it very successfully.</p> - -<p>But he often happened to be the one to start a dispute with me. He -would come quite close to me, and smiling into his beard, remark:</p> - -<p>"What do you call that French writer—Ponoss?" I was desperately angry -at this silly way of turning the names upside down. But holding myself -in for the time, I said:</p> - -<p>"Ponson de Terrail."</p> - -<p>"Where was he lost?"<a name="FNanchor_1_8" id="FNanchor_1_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_8" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> - -<p>"Don't play the fool. You are not a child." "That is true. I am not a -child. What are you reading?"</p> - -<p>"'Ephrem Siren.'"</p> - -<p>"And who writes best. Your foreign authors? or he?"</p> - -<p>I made no reply.</p> - -<p>"What do the foreign ones write about most?"</p> - -<p>"About everything which happens to exist in life."</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_8" id="Footnote_1_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_8"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Terryat in Russian means "to lose."</p></div> - -<p>"That is to say, about dogs and horses—whichever may happen to come -their way."</p> - -<p>The shopman laughed. I was enraged. The atmosphere was oppressive, -unpleasant to me. But if I attempted to get away, the shopman stopped -me.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going?"</p> - -<p>And the old man would examine me.</p> - -<p>"Now, you learned man, gnaw this problem. Suppose you had a thousand -naked people standing before you, five hundred women and five hundred -men, and among them Adam and Eve. How would you tell which were Adam -and Eve?"</p> - -<p>He kept asking me this, and at length explained triumphantly:</p> - -<p>"Little fool, don't you see that, as they were not born, but were -created, they would have no navels!" The old man knew an innumerable -quantity of these "problems." He could wear me out with them.</p> - -<p>During my early days at the shop, I used to tell the shopman the -contents of some of the books I had read. Now these stories came back -to me in an evil form. The shopman retold them to Petr Vassilich, -considerably cut up, obscenely mutilated. The old man skilfully helped -him in his shameful questions. Their slimy tongues threw the refuse of -their obscene words at Eugénie Grandet, Ludmilla, and Henry IV.</p> - -<p>I understood that they did not do this out of ill-nature, but simply -because they wanted something to do. All the same, I did not find it -easy to bear.</p> - -<p>Having created the filth, they wallowed in it, like hogs, and -grunted with enjoyment when they soiled what was beautiful, strange, -unintelligible, and therefore comical to them.</p> - -<p>The whole Gostinui Dvor, the whole of its population of merchants and -shopmen, lived a strange life, full of stupid, puerile, and always -malicious diversions. If a passing peasant asked which was the nearest -way to any place in the town, they always gave him the wrong direction. -This had become such a habit with them that the deceit no longer gave -them pleasure. They would catch two rats, tie their tails together, and -let them go in the road. They loved to see how they pulled in different -directions, or bit each other, and sometimes they poured paraffin-oil -over the rats, and set fire to them. They would tie an old iron pail on -the tail of a dog, who, in wild terror, would tear about, yelping and -growling, while they all looked on, and laughed.</p> - -<p>There were many similar forms of recreation, "and it seemed to me that -all kinds of people, especially country people, existed simply for the -amusement of the Gostinui Dvor. In their relations to other people, -there was a constant desire to make fun of them, to give them pain, and -to make them uncomfortable. It was strange that the books I had read -were silent on the subject of this unceasing, deep-seated tendency of -people to jeer at one another.</p> - -<p>One of the amusements of the Gostinui Dvor seemed to me peculiarly -offensive and disgusting.</p> - -<p>Underneath our shop there was a dealer in woolen and felt footwear, -whose salesman amazed the whole of Nijni by his gluttony. His master -used to boast of this peculiarity of his employee, as one boasts of the -fierceness of a dog, or the strength of a horse. He often used to get -the neighboring shopkeepers to bet.</p> - -<p>"Who will go as high as ten rubles? I will bet that Mishka devours, ten -pounds of ham in two hours!"</p> - -<p>But they all knew that Mishka was well able to do that, and they said:</p> - -<p>"We won't take your bet, but buy the ham and let him eat it, and we -will look on."</p> - -<p>"Only let it be all meat and no bones!"</p> - -<p>They would dispute a little and lazily, and then out of the dark -storehouse crept a lean, beardless fellow with high cheek-bones, in -a long cloth coat girdled with a red belt all stuck round with tufts -of wool. Respectfully removing his cap from his small head, he gazed -in silence, with a dull expression in his deep-set eyes, at the round -face of his master which was suffused with purple blood. The latter was -saying in his thick harsh voice:</p> - -<p>"Can you eat a gammon of ham?"</p> - -<p>"How long shall I have for it?" asked Mishka practically, in his thin -voice.</p> - -<p>"Two hours."</p> - -<p>"That will be difficult."</p> - -<p>"Where is the difficulty?"</p> - -<p>"Well, let me have a drop of beer with it."</p> - -<p>"All right," said his master, and he would boast:</p> - -<p>"You need not think that he has an empty stomach. No! In the morning he -had two pounds of bread, and dinner at noon, as you know."</p> - -<p>They brought the ham, and the spectators took their places. All the -merchants were tightly enveloped in their thick fur-coats and looked -like gigantic weights. They were people with big stomachs, but they all -had small eyes and some had fatty tumors. An unconquerable feeling of -boredom oppressed them all.</p> - -<p>With their hands tucked into their sleeves, they surrounded the great -glutton in a narrow circle, armed with knives and large crusts of rye -bread. He crossed himself piously, sat down on a sack of wool and -placed the ham on a box at his side, measuring it with his vacant eyes.</p> - -<p>Cutting off a thin slice of bread and a thick one of meat, the glutton -folded them together carefully, and held the sandwich to his mouth -with both hands. His lips trembled; he licked them with his thin and -long canine tongue, showing his small sharp teeth, and with a dog-like -movement bent his snout again over the meat.</p> - -<p>"He has begun!"</p> - -<p>"Look at the time!"</p> - -<p>All eyes were turned in a business-like manner on the face of the -glutton, on his lower jaw, on the round protuberances near his ears; -they watched the sharp chin rise and fall regularly, and drowsily -uttered their thoughts.</p> - -<p>"He eats cleanly—like a bear."</p> - -<p>"Have you ever seen a bear eat?"</p> - -<p>"Do I live in the woods? There is a saying, 'he gobbles like a bear.'"</p> - -<p>"Like a pig, it says."</p> - -<p>"Pigs don't eat pig."</p> - -<p>They laughed unwillingly, and soon some one knowingly said:</p> - -<p>"Pigs eat everything—little pigs and their own sisters."</p> - -<p>The face of the glutton gradually grew darker, his ears became livid, -his running eyes crept out of their bony pit, he breathed with -difficulty, but his chin moved as regularly as ever.</p> - -<p>"Take it easy, Mikhail, there is time!" they encouraged him.</p> - -<p>He uneasily measured the remains of the meat with his eyes, drank -some beer, and once more began to munch. The spectators became more -animated. Looking more often at the watch in the hand of Mishka's -master, they suggested to one another:</p> - -<p>"Don't you think he may have put the watch back? Take it away from him! -Watch Mishka in case he should put any meat up his sleeve! He won't -finish it in the time!"</p> - -<p>Mishka's master cried passionately:</p> - -<p>"I'll take you on for a quarter of a ruble! Mishka, don't give way!"</p> - -<p>They began to dispute with the master, but no one would take the bet.</p> - -<p>And Mishka went on eating and eating; his face began to look like the -ham, his sharp grisly nose whistled plaintively. It was terrible to -look at him. It seemed to me that he was about to scream, to wail:</p> - -<p>"Have mercy on me!"</p> - -<p>At length he finished it all, opened his tipsy eyes wide, and said in a -hoarse, tired voice:</p> - -<p>"Let me go to sleep."</p> - -<p>But his master, looking at his watch, cried angrily:</p> - -<p>"You have taken four minutes too long, you wretch!"</p> - -<p>The others teased him:</p> - -<p>"What a pity we did not take you on; you would have lost."</p> - -<p>"However, he is a regular wild animal, that fellow."</p> - -<p>"Ye—e—es, he ought to be in a show."</p> - -<p>"You see what monsters the Lord can make of men, eh?"</p> - -<p>"Let us go and have some tea, shall we?"</p> - -<p>And they swam like barges to the tavern.</p> - -<p>I wanted to know what stirred in the bosoms of these heavy, -iron-hearted people that they should gather round the poor fellow -because his unhealthy gluttony amused them.</p> - -<p>It was dark and dull in that narrow gallery closely packed with wool, -sheepskins, hemp, ropes, felt, boots, and saddlery. It was cut off. -from the pavement by pillars of brick, clumsily thick, weather-beaten, -and spattered with mud from the road. All the bricks and all the chinks -between them, all the holes made by the fallen-away mortar, had been -mentally counted by me a thousand times, and their hideous designs were -forever heavily imprinted on my memory.</p> - -<p>The foot-passenger dawdled along the pavement; hackney carriages and -sledges loaded with goods passed up the road without haste. Beyond the -street, in a red-brick, square, two-storied shop, was the marketplace, -littered with cases, straw, crumpled paper, covered with dirt and -trampled snow.</p> - -<p>All this, together with the people and the horses, in spite of the -movement, seemed to be motionless, or lazily moving round and round -in one place to which it was fastened by invisible chains. One felt -suddenly that this life was almost devoid of sound, or so poor in -sounds that it amounted to dumbness. The sides of the sledges squeaked, -the doors of the shops slammed, sellers of pies and honey cried their -wares, but their voices sounded unhappy, unwilling. They were all -alike; one quickly became used to them, and ceased to pay attention to -them.</p> - -<p>The church-bells tolled funerally. That melancholy sound was always in -my ears. It seemed to float in the air over the market-place without -ceasing from morning to night; it was mingled with all my thoughts and -feelings; it lay like a copper veneer over all my impressions.</p> - -<p>Tedium, coldness, and want breathed all around: from the earth covered -with dirty snow, from the gray snow-drift on the roof, from the -flesh-colored bricks of the buildings; tedium rose from the chimneys -in a thick gray smoke, and crept up to the gray, low, empty sky; with -tedium horses sweated and people sighed. They had a peculiar smell of -their own, these people—the oppressive dull smell of sweat, fat, hemp -oil, hearth-cakes, and smoke. It was an odor which pressed upon one's -head like a warm close-fitting cap, and ran down into one's breast, -arousing a strange feeling of intoxication, a vague desire to shut -one's eyes, to cry out despairingly, to run away somewhere and knock -one's head against the first wall.</p> - -<p>I gazed into the faces of the merchants, over-nourished, full-blooded, -frost-bitten, and as immobile as if they were asleep. These people -often yawned, opening their mouths like fish which have been cast on -dry land.</p> - -<p>In winter, trade was slack and there was not in the eyes of the dealer -that cautious, rapacious gleam which somehow made them bright and -animated in the summer. The heavy fur coats hampered their movements, -bowed them to the earth. As a rule they spoke lazily, but when they -fell into a passion, they grew vehement. I had an idea that they did -this purposely, in order to show one another that they were alive.</p> - -<p>It was perfectly clear to me that tedium weighed upon them, was killing -them, and the unsuccessful struggle against its overwhelming strength -was the only explanation I could give of their cruelty and senseless -amusements at the expense of others.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I discussed this with Petr Vissilich.</p> - -<p>Although as a rule he behaved to me scornfully and jeeringly, he liked -me for my partiality for books, and at times he permitted himself to -talk to me instructively, seriously.</p> - -<p>"I don't like the way these merchants live," I said.</p> - -<p>Twisting a strand of his beard in his long fingers, he said:</p> - -<p>"And how do you know how they live? Do you then often visit them at -their houses? This is merely a street, my friend, and people do not -live in a street; they simply buy and sell, and they get through that -as quickly as they can, and then go home again! People walk about the -streets with their clothes on, and you do not know what they are like -under their clothes. What a man really is is seen in his own home, -within his own four walls, and how he lives there—that you know -nothing about!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but they have the same ideas whether they are here or at home, -don't they?"</p> - -<p>"And how can any one know what ideas his neighbors have?" said the old -man, making his eyes round. "Thoughts are like lice; you cannot count -them. It may be that a man, on going to his home, falls on his knees -and, weeping, prays to God: 'Forgive me, Lord, I have defiled Thy holy -day!' It may be that his house is a sort of monastery to him, and he -lives there alone with his God. You see how it is! Every spider knows -its own corner, spins its own web, and understands its own position, so -that it may hold its own."</p> - -<p>When he spoke seriously, his voice went lower and lower to a deep -base, as if he were communicating secrets.</p> - -<p>"Here you are judging others, and it is too soon for you; at your age -one lives not by one's reason but by one's eyes. What you must do is -to look, remember, and hold your tongue. The mind is for business, but -faith is for the soul. It is good for you to read books, but there must -be moderation in all things, and some have read themselves into madness -and godlessness."</p> - -<p>I looked upon him as immortal; it was hard for me to believe that he -might grow older and change. He liked to tell stories about merchants -and coiners who had become notorious. I had heard many such stories -from grandfather, who told them better than the valuer, but the -underlying theme was the same—that riches always lead to sin towards -God and one's fellow-creatures. Petr Vassilich had no pity for human -creatures, but he spoke of God with warmth of feeling, sighing and -covering his eyes.</p> - -<p>"And so they try to cheat God, and He, the Lord Jesus Christ, sees it -all and weeps. 'My people, my people, my unhappy people, hell is being -prepared for you!'"</p> - -<p>Once I jokingly reminded him:</p> - -<p>"But you cheat the peasants yourself."</p> - -<p>He was not offended by this.</p> - -<p>"Is that a great matter as far as I am concerned?" he said. "I may rob -them of from three to five rubles, and that is all it amounts to!"</p> - -<p>When he found me reading, he would take the book out of my hands and -ask me questions about what I had read, in a fault-finding manner. With -amazed incredulity he would say to the shopman:</p> - -<p>"Just look at that now; he understands books, the young rascal!"</p> - -<p>And he would give me a memorable, intelligent lecture:</p> - -<p>"Listen to what I tell you now; it is worth your while. There were -two Kyrills, both of them bishops; one Kyrill of Alexandria, and the -other Kyrill of Jerusalem. The first warred against the cursed heretic, -Nestorius, who taught obscenely that Our Lady was born in original sin -and therefore could not have given birth to God; but that she gave -birth to a human being with the name and attributes of the Messiah, -the Saviour of the world, and therefore she should be called not the -God-Bearer, but the Christ-Bearer. Do you understand? That is called -heresy! And Kyrill of Jerusalem fought against the Arian heretics."</p> - -<p>I was delighted with his knowledge of church history, and he, stroking -his beard with his well-cared-for, priest-like hands, boasted:</p> - -<p>"I am a past master in that sort of thing. When I was in Moscow, I -was engaged in a verbal debate against the poisonous doctrines of the -Nikonites, with both priests and seculars. I, my little one, actually -conducted discussions with professors, yes! To one of the priests I so -drove home the verbal scourge that his nose bled infernally, that it -did!"</p> - -<p>His cheeks were flushed; his eyes shone.</p> - -<p>The bleeding of the nose of his opponent was evidently the highest -point of his success, in his opinion; the highest ruby in the golden -crown of his glory, and he told the story voluptuously.</p> - -<p>"A ha—a—andsome, wholesome-looking priest he was! He stood on the -platform and drip, drip, the blood came from his nose. He did not see -his shame. Ferocious was the priest as a desert lion; his voice was -like a bell. But very quietly I got my words in between his ribs, -like saws. He was really as hot as a stove, made red-hot by heretical -malice—ekh—that was a business!"</p> - -<p>Occasionally other valuers came. These were Pakhomi, a man with a fat -belly, in greasy clothes, with one crooked eye who was wrinkled and -snarling; Lukian, a little old man, smooth as a mouse, kind and brisk; -and with him came a big, gloomy man looking like a coachman, black -bearded, with a deathlike face, unpleasant to look upon, but handsome, -and with eyes which never seemed to move. Almost always they brought -ancient books, icons and thuribles to sell, or some kind of bowl. -Sometimes they brought the vendors—an old man or woman from the Volga. -When their business was finished, they sat on the counter, looking just -like crows on a furrow, drank tea with rolls and lenten sugar, and told -each other about the persecutions of the Nikonites.</p> - -<p>Here a search had been made, and books of devotion had been -confiscated; there the police had closed a place of worship, and had -contrived to bring its owner to justice under Article 103. This Article -103 was frequently the theme of their discussions, but they spoke of -it calmly, as of something unavoidable, like the frosts of winter. -The words police, search, prison, justice, Siberia—these words, -continually recurring in their conversations about the persecutions for -religious beliefs, fell on my heart like hot coals, kindling sympathy -and fellow feeling for these Old Believers. Reading had taught me to -look up to people who were obstinate in pursuing their aims, to value -spiritual steadfastness.</p> - -<p>I forgot all the bad which I saw in these teachers of life. I felt only -their calm stubbornness, behind which, it seemed to me, was hidden an -unwavering belief in the teachings of their faith, for which they were -ready to suffer all kinds of torments.</p> - -<p>At length, when I had come across many specimens of these guardians -of the old faith, both among the people and among the intellectuals, -I understood that this obstinacy was the oriental passivity of people -who never moved from the place whereon they stood, and had no desire -to move from it, but were bound by strong ties to the ways of the old -words, and worn-out ideas. They were steeped in these words and ideas. -Their wills were stationary, incapable of looking forward, and when -some blow from without cast them out of their accustomed place, they -mechanically and without resistance let themselves roll down, like -a stone off a hill. They kept their own fasts in the graveyards of -lived-out truths, with a deadly strength of memory for the past, and -an insane love of suffering and persecution; but if the possibility of -suffering were taken away from them, they faded away, disappeared like -a cloud on a fresh winter day.</p> - -<p>The faith for which they, with satisfaction and great self-complacency, -were ready to suffer is incontestably a strong faith, but it resembles -well-worn clothes, covered with all kinds of dirt, and for that very -reason is less vulnerable to the ravages of time. Thought and feeling -become accustomed to the narrow and oppressive envelope of prejudice -and dogma, and although wingless and mutilated, they live in ease and -comfort.</p> - -<p>This belief founded on habits is one of the most grievous and harmful -manifestations of our lives. Within the domains of such beliefs, as -within the shadows of stone walls, anything new is born slowly, is -deformed, and grows anaemic. In that dark faith there are very few of -the beams of love, too many causes of offense, irritations, and petty -spites which are always friendly with hatred. The flame of that faith -is the phosphorescent gleam of putrescence.</p> - -<p>But before I was convinced of this, I had to live through many weary -years, break up many images in my soul, and cast them out of my memory. -But at the time when I first came across these teachers of life, in the -midst of tedious and sordid realities, they appeared to me as persons -of great spiritual strength, the best people in the world. Almost -every one of them had been persecuted, put in prison, had been banished -from different towns, traveling by stages with convicts. They all lived -cautious, hidden lives.</p> - -<p>However, I saw that while pitying the "narrow spirit" of the Nikonites, -these old people willingly and with great satisfaction kept one another -within narrow bounds.</p> - -<p>Crooked Pakhomie, when he had been drinking, liked to boast of his -wonderful memory with regard to matters of the faith. He had several -books at his finger-ends, as a Jew has his Talmud. He could put his -finger on his favorite page, and from the word on which he had placed -his finger, Pakhomie could go on reciting by heart in his mild, -snuffling voice. He always looked on the floor, and his solitary eye -ran over the floor disquietingly, as if he were seeking some lost and -very valuable article.</p> - -<p>The book with which he most often performed this trick was that of -Prince Muishetzki, called "The Russian Vine," and the passage he best -knew was, "The long suffering and courageous suffering of wonderful and -valiant martyrs," but Petr Vassilitch was always trying to catch him in -a mistake.</p> - -<p>"That's a lie! That did not happen to Cyprian the Mystic, but to Denis -the Chaste."</p> - -<p>"What other Denis could it be? You are thinking of Dionysius."</p> - -<p>"Don't shuffle with words!"</p> - -<p>"And don't you try to teach me!"</p> - -<p>In a few moments both, swollen with rage, would be looking fixedly at -one another, and saying:</p> - -<p>"Perverter of the truth! Away, shameless one!"</p> - -<p>Pakhomie answered, as if he were adding up accounts:</p> - -<p>"As for you, you are a libertine, a goat, always hanging round the -women."</p> - -<p>The shopman, with his hands tucked into his sleeves, smiled -maliciously, and, encouraging the guardians of the ancient religion, -cried, just like a small boy:</p> - -<p>"Th—a—at's right! Go it!"</p> - -<p>One day when the old men were quarreling, Petr Vassilitch slapped his -comrade on the face with unexpected swiftness, put him to flight, and, -wiping the sweat from his face, called after the fugitive:</p> - -<p>"Look out; that sin lies to your account! You led my hand into sin, you -accursed one; you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"</p> - -<p>He was especially fond of reproaching his comrades in that they were -wanting in firm faith, and predicting that they would fall away into -"Protestantism."</p> - -<p>"That is what troubles you, Aleksasha—the sound of the cock crowing!"</p> - -<p>Protestantism worried and apparently frightened him, but to the -question, "What is the doctrine of that sect?" he answered, not very -intelligibly:</p> - -<p>"Protestantism is the most bitter heresy; it acknowledges reason alone, -and denies God! Look at the Bible Christians, for example, who read -nothing but the Bible, which came from a German, from Luther, of whom -it was said: He was rightly called Luther, for if you make a verb of -it, it runs: Lute bo, lubo luto!<a name="FNanchor_1_9" id="FNanchor_1_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_9" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> And all that comes from the west, -from the heretics of that part of the world."</p> - -<p>Stamping his mutilated foot, he would say coldly and heavily:</p> - -<p>"Those are they whom the new Ritualists will have to drive out, whom -they will have to watch,—yes, and burn too! But not us—we are of the -true faith. Eastern, we are of the faith, the true, eastern, original -Russian faith, and all the others are of the west, spoiled by free -will! What good has ever come from the Germans, or the French? Look -what they did in the year 12—."</p> - -<p>Carried away by his feelings, he forgot that it was a boy who stood -before him, and with his strong hands he took hold of me by the belt, -now drawing me to him, now pushing me away, as he spoke beautifully, -emotionally, hotly, and youthfully:</p> - -<p>"The mind of man wanders in the forest of its own thoughts. Like a -fierce wolf it wanders, the devil's assistant, putting the soul of man, -the gift of God, on the rack! What have they imagined, these servants -of the devil? The Bogomuili,<a name="FNanchor_2_10" id="FNanchor_2_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_10" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> through whom Protestantism came, taught -thus: Satan, they say, is the son of God, the elder brother of Jesus -Christ, That is what they have come to! They taught people also not -to obey their superiors, not to work, to abandon wife and children; a -man needs nothing, no property whatever in his life; let him live as he -chooses, and the devil shows him how. That Aleksasha has turned up here -again."</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_9" id="Footnote_1_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_9"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> From Lutui which means hard, violent.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_2_10" id="Footnote_2_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_10"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> Another sect of Old Believers.</p></div> - - -<p>At this moment the shopman set me to do some work, and I left the old -man alone in the gallery, but he went on talking to space:</p> - -<p>"O soul without wings! O blind-born kitten, whither shall I run to get -away from you?"</p> - -<p>And then, with bent head and hands resting on his knees, he fell into a -long silence, gazing, intent and motionless, up at the gray winter sky.</p> - -<p>He began to take more notice of me, and his manner was kinder. When he -found me with a book, he would glance over my shoulder, and say:</p> - -<p>"Read, youngster, read; it is worth your while! It may be that you are -clever; it is a pity that you think so little of your elders. You can -stand up to any one, you think, but where will your sauciness land you -in the end? It will lead you nowhere, youngster, but to a convict's -prison. Read by all means; but remember that books are books, and use -your own brains! Danilov, the founder of the Xlist sect, came to the -conclusion that neither old nor new books were necessary, and he put -them all in a sack, and threw them in the water. Of course that was -a stupid thing to do, but——And now that cur, Aleksasha, must come -disturbing us."</p> - -<p>He was always talking about this Aleksasha, and one day he came into -the shop, looking preoccupied and stem, and explained to the shopman:</p> - -<p>"Aleksander Vassiliev is here in the town; he came yesterday. I have -been looking for him for a long time, but he has hidden himself -somewhere!"</p> - -<p>The shopman answered in an unfriendly tone:</p> - -<p>"I don't know anything about him!"</p> - -<p>Bending his head, the old man said:</p> - -<p>"That means that for you, people are either buyers or sellers, and -nothing more! Let us have some tea."</p> - -<p>When I brought in the big copper tea-pot, there were visitors in the -shop. There was old Lukian, smiling happily, and behind the door in a -dark corner sat a stranger dressed in a dark overcoat and high felt -boots, with a green belt, and a cap set clumsily over his brows. His -face was indistinct, but he seemed to be quiet and modest, and he -looked somewhat like a shopman who had just lost his place and was very -dejected about it.</p> - -<p>Petr Vassilich, not glancing in his direction, said something sternly -and ponderously, and he pulled at his cap all the time, with a -convulsive movement of his right hand. He would raise his hand as if -he were about to cross himself, and push his cap upwards, and he would -do this until he had pushed it as far back as his crown, when he would -again pull it over his brows. That convulsive movement reminded me of -the mad beggar, Igosha, "Death in his pocket."</p> - -<p>"Various kinds of reptiles swim in our muddy rivers, and make the -water more turbid than ever," said Petr Vassilich.</p> - -<p>The man who resembled a shopman asked quietly and gently:</p> - -<p>"Do you mean that for me?"</p> - -<p>"And suppose I do mean it for you?"</p> - -<p>Then the man asked again, not loudly but very frankly:</p> - -<p>"Well, and what have you to say about yourself, man?"</p> - -<p>"What I have to say about myself, I say to God—that is my business."</p> - -<p>"No, man, it is mine also," said the new-comer solemnly and firmly. -"Do not turn away your face from the truth, and don't blind -yourself deliberately; that is the great sin towards God and your -fellow-creatures——"</p> - -<p>I liked to hear him call Petr Vassilich "man," and his quiet, solemn -voice stirred me. He spoke as a good priest reads, "Lord and Master of -my life," and bending forward, got off his chair, spreading his hands -before his face:</p> - -<p>"Do not judge me; my sins are not more grievous than yours."</p> - -<p>The samovar boiled and hissed, the old valuer spoke contemptuously, and -the other continued, refusing to be stopped by his words:</p> - -<p>"Only God knows who most befouls the source of the Holy Spirit. It -may be your sin, you book-learned, literary people. As for me, I am -neither book-learned nor literary; I am a man of simple life."</p> - -<p>"We know all about your simplicity—we have heard of it—more than we -want to hear!"</p> - -<p>"It is you who confuse the people; you break up the true faith, you -scribes and Pharisees. I—what shall I say? Tell me—"</p> - -<p>"Heresy," said Petr Vassilich. The man held his hands before his face, -just as if he were reading something written on them, and said warmly: -"Do you think that to drive people from one hole to another is to do -better than they? But I say no! I say: Let us be free, man! What is the -good of a house, a wife, and all your belongings, in the sight of God? -Let us free ourselves, man, from all that for the sake of which men -fight and tear each other to pieces—from gold and silver and all kinds -of property, which brings nothing but corruption and uncleanness! Not -on earthly fields is the soul saved, but in the valleys of paradise! -Tear yourself away from it all, I say; break all ties, all cords; break -the nets of this world. They are woven by antichrist. I am going by the -straight road; I do not juggle with my soul'; the dark world has no -part in me."</p> - -<p>"And bread, water, clothes—do you have any part in them? They are -worldly, you know," said the valuer maliciously.</p> - -<p>But these words had no effect on Aleksander. He talked all the more -earnestly, and although his voice was so low, it had the sound of a -brass trumpet.</p> - -<p>"What is dear to you, man? The one God only should be dear to you. I -stand before Him, cleansed from every stain. Remove the ways of earth -from your heart and see God; you alone—He alone! So you will draw near -to God; that is the only road to Him. That is the way of salvation—to -leave father and mother—to leave all, and even thine eye, if it tempts -thee—pluck it out! For God's sake tear yourself from things and save -your soul; take refuge in the spirit, and your soul shall live for ever -and ever."</p> - -<p>"Well, it is a case with you, of the dog returning to his vomit," said -Petr Vassiliev, rising, "I should have thought that you would have -grown wiser since last year, but you are worse than ever."</p> - -<p>The old man went swaying from the shop onto the terrace, which action -disturbed Aleksander. He asked amazedly and hastily:</p> - -<p>"Has he gone? But—why?"</p> - -<p>Kind Lukian, winking consolingly, said:</p> - -<p>"That's all right—that's all right!"</p> - -<p>Then Aleksander fell upon him:</p> - -<p>"And what about you, worldling? You are also sewing rubbishy words, and -what do they mean? Well—a threefold alleluia—a double——"</p> - -<p>Lukian smiled at him and then went out on the terrace also, and -Aleksander, turning to the shopman, said in a tone of conviction:</p> - -<p>"They can't stand up to me, they simply can't! They disappear like -smoke before a flame."</p> - -<p>The shopman looked at him from under his brows, and observed dryly:</p> - -<p>"I have not thought about the matter."</p> - -<p>"What! Do you mean you have not thought about it? This is a business -which demands to be thought about."</p> - -<p>He sat for a moment in silence, with drooping head. Then the old men -called him, and they all three went away.</p> - -<p>This man had burst upon me like a bonfire in the night. He burned -brightly, and when he was extinguished, left me feeling that there was -truth in his refusal to live as other men.</p> - -<p>In the evening, choosing a good time, I spoke about him excitedly to -the head icon-painter. Quiet and kind Ivan Larionovich listened to what -I had to say, and explained:</p> - -<p>"He belongs to the Byegouns,<a name="FNanchor_1_11" id="FNanchor_1_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_11" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> a sort of sect; they acknowledge no -authority."</p> - -<p>"How do they live?"</p> - -<p>"Like fugitives they wander about the earth; that is why they have been -given the name Byegoun. They say that no one ought to have land, or -property. And the police look upon them as dangerous, and arrest them."</p> - -<p>Although my life was bitter, I could not understand how any one could -run away from everything pleasant. In the life which went on around me -at that time, there was much that was interesting and precious to me, -and Aleksander Vassiliev soon faded from my mind.</p> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a name="Footnote_1_11" id="Footnote_1_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_11"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Byegouns, or wanderers, still another sect of Old -Believers.</p></div> - -<p>But from time to time, in hours of darkness, he appeared to me. He came -by the fields, or by the gray road to the forest, pushed his cap aside -with a convulsive movement of his white hands, unsoiled by work, and -muttered:</p> - -<p>"I am going on the straight road; I have no part in this world; I have -broken all ties."</p> - -<p>In conjunction with him I remembered my father, as grandmother had seen -him in her dream, with a walnut stick in his hand, and behind him a -spotted dog running, with its tongue hanging out.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></h5> - - -<p>The icon-painting workshop occupied two rooms in a large house partly -built of stone. One room had three windows overlooking the yard and -one overlooking the garden; the other room had one window overlooking -the garden and another facing the street. These windows were small and -square, and their panes, irisated by age, unwillingly admitted the -pale, diffused light of the winter days. Both rooms were closely packed -with tables, and at every table sat the bent figures of icon-painters. -From the ceilings were suspended glass balls full of water, which -reflected the light from the lamps and threw it upon the square -surfaces of the icons in white cold rays.</p> - -<p>It was hot and stifling in the workshop. Here worked about twenty -men, icon-painters, from Palekh, Kholia, and Mstir. They all sat down -in cotton overalls with unfastened collars. They had drawers made -of ticking, and were barefooted, or wore sandals. Over their heads -stretched, like a blue veil, the smoke of cheap tobacco, and there -was a thick smell of size, varnish, and rotten eggs. The melancholy -Vlandimirski song flowed slowly, like resin:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -How depraved the people have now become;<br /> -The boy ruined the girl, and cared not who knew.<br /> -</p> - -<p>They sang other melancholy songs, but this was the one they sang most -often. Its long-drawn-out movement did not hinder one from thinking, -did not impede the movement of the fine brush, made of weasel hair, -over the surface of the icons, as it painted in the lines of the -figure, and laid upon the emaciated faces of the saints the fine lines -of suffering. By the windows the chaser, Golovev, plied his small -hammer. He was a drunken old man with an enormous blue nose. The lazy -stream of song was punctuated by the ceaseless dry tap of the hammer; -it was like a worm gnawing at a tree. Some evil genius had divided the -work into a long series of actions, bereft of beauty and incapable of -arousing any love for the business, or interest in it. The squinting -joiner, Panphil, ill-natured and malicious, brought the pieces of -cypress and lilac-wood of different sizes, which he had planed and -glued; the consumptive lad, Davidov, laid the colors on; his comrade, -Sorokin, painted in the inscription; Milyashin outlined the design from -the original with a pencil; old Golovev gilded it, and embossed the -pattern in gold; the finishers drew the landscape, and the clothes of -the figures; and then they were stood with faces or hands against the -wall, waiting for the work of the face-painter.</p> - -<p>It was very weird to see a large icon intended for an iconastasis, or -the doors of the altar, standing against the wall without face, hands, -or feet,—just the sacerdotal vestments, or the armor, and the short -garments of archangels. These variously painted tablets suggested -death. That which should have put life into them was absent, but it -seemed as if it had been there, and had miraculously disappeared, -leaving only its heavy vestments behind.</p> - -<p>When the features had been painted in by the face-painter, the icon -was handed to the workman, who filled in the design of the chaser. A -different workman had to do the lettering, and the varnish was put on -by the head workman himself Ivan Larionovich, a quiet man. He had a -gray face; his beard, too, was gray, the hair fine and silky; his gray -eyes were peculiarly deep and sad. He had a pleasant smile, but one -could not smile at him. He made one feel awkward, somehow. He looked -like the image of Simon Stolpnik, just as lean and emaciated, and his -motionless eyes looked far away in the same abstracted manner, through -people and walls.</p> - -<p>Some days after I entered the workshop, the banner-worker, a Cossack -of the Don, named Kapendiukhin, a handsome, mighty fellow, arrived in -a state of intoxication. With clenched teeth and his gentle, womanish -eyes blinking, he began to smash up everything with his iron fist, -without uttering a word. Of medium height and well built, he cast -himself on the workroom like a cat chasing rats in a cellar. The others -lost their presence of mind, and hid themselves away in the corners, -calling out to one another:</p> - -<p>"Knock him down!"</p> - -<p>The face-painter, Evgen Sitanov, was successful in stunning the -maddened creature by hitting him on the head with a small stool. The -Cossack subsided on the floor, and was immediately held down and tied -up with towels, which he began to bite and tear with the teeth of a -wild beast. This infuriated Evgen. He jumped on the table, and with his -hands pressed close to his sides, prepared to jump on the Cossack. Tall -and stout as he was, he would have inevitably crushed the breast-bone -of Kapendiukhin by his leap, but at that moment Larionovich appeared on -the scene in cap and overcoat, shook his finger at Sitanov, and said to -the workmen in a quiet and business-like tone:</p> - -<p>"Carry him into the vestibule, and leave him there till he is sober."</p> - -<p>They dragged the Cossack out of the workshop, set the chairs and tables -straight, and once again set to work, letting fall short remarks on the -strength of their comrade, prophesying that he would one day be killed -by some one in a quarrel.</p> - -<p>"It would be a difficult matter to kill him," said Sitanov very calmly, -as if he were speaking of a business which he understood very well.</p> - -<p>I looked at Larionovich, wondering perplexedly why these strong, -pugilistic people were so easily ruled by him. He showed every one -how he ought to work; even the best workmen listened willingly to his -advice; he taught Kapendiukhin more, and with more words, than the -others.</p> - -<p>"You, Kapendiukhin, are what is called a painter—that is, you ought to -paint from life in the Italian manner. Painting in oils requires warm -colors, and you have introduced too much white, and made Our Lady's -eyes as cold as winter. The cheeks are painted red, like apples, and -the eyes do not seem to belong to them. And they are not put in right, -either; one is looking over the bridge of the nose, and the other has -moved to the temple; and the face has not come out pure and holy, but -crafty, wintry. You don't think about your work, Kapendiukhin."</p> - -<p>The Cossack listened and made a wry face. Then smiling impudently with -his womanish eyes, he said in his pleasant voice, which was rather -hoarse with so much drinking:</p> - -<p>"Ekh! I—va—a—n Larionovich, my father, that is not my trade. I was -born to be a musician, and they put me among monks."</p> - -<p>"With zeal, any business may be mastered."</p> - -<p>"No; what do you take me for? I ought to have been a coachman with a -team of gray horses, eh?" And protruding his Adam's apple, he drawled -despairingly:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Eh, i-akh, if I had a leash of grayhounds<br /> -And dark brown horses,<br /> -Och, when I am in torment on frosty nights<br /> -I would fly straight, straight to my love!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Ivan Larionovich, smiling mildly, set his glasses straight on his gray, -sad, melancholy nose, and went away. But a dozen voices took up the -song in a friendly spirit, and there flowed forth a mighty stream of -song which seemed to raise the whole work-shop into the air and shake -it with measured blows:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"By custom the horses know<br /> -Where the little lady lives."<br /> -</p> - -<p>The apprentice, Pashka Odintzov, threw aside his work of pouring off -the yolks of the eggs, and holding the shells in his hand, led the -chorus in a masterly manner. Intoxicated by the sounds, they all forgot -themselves, they all breathed together as if they had but one bosom, -and were full of the same feelings, looking sideways at the Cossack. -When he sang, the workshop acknowledged him as its master; they were -all drawn to him, followed the brief movements of his hands; he spread -his arms out as if he were about to fly. I believe that if he had -suddenly broken off his song and cried, "Let us smash up everything," -even the most serious of the workmen would have smashed the workshop to -pieces in a few moments.</p> - -<p>He sang rarely, but the power of his tumultuous songs was always -irresistible and all-conquering. It was as if these people were not -very strongly made, and he could lift them up and set them on fire; as -if everything was bent when it came within the warm influence of that -mighty organ of his.</p> - -<p>As for me, these songs aroused in me a hot feeling of envy of the -singer, of his admirable power over people. A painful emotion flowed -over my heart, making it feel as if it would burst. I wanted to weep -and call out to the singers:</p> - -<p>"I love you!"</p> - -<p>Consumptive, yellow Davidov, who was covered with tufts of hair, also -opened his mouth, strangely resembling a young jackdaw newly burst out -of the egg.</p> - -<p>These happy, riotous songs were only sung when the Cossack started -them. More often they sang the sad, drawn-out one about the depraved -people, and another about the forests, and another about the death of -Alexander I, "How our Alexander went to review his army." Sometimes at -the suggestion of our best face painter, Jikharev, they tried to sing -some church melodies, but it was seldom a success. Jikharev always -wanted one particular thing; he had only one idea of harmony, and he -kept on stopping the song.</p> - -<p>He was a man of forty-five, dry, bald, with black, curly, gipsy-like -hair, and large black brows which looked like mustaches. His pointed, -thick beard was very ornamental to his fine, swarthy, un-Russian face, -but under his protuberant nose stuck out ferocious-looking mustaches, -superfluous when one took his brows into consideration. His blue eyes -did not match, the left being noticeably larger than the right.</p> - -<p>"Pashka," he cried in a tenor voice to my comrade, the apprentice, -"come along now, start off: 'Praise—'Now people, listen!"</p> - -<p>Wiping his hands on his apron, Pashka led off:</p> - -<p>"Pr—a—a—ise—"</p> - -<p>"The Name of the Lord," several voices caught it up, but Jikharev cried -fussily:</p> - -<p>"Lower, Evgen! Let your voice come from the very depths of the soul."</p> - -<p>Sitanov, in a voice so deep that it sounded like the rattle of a drum, -gave forth:</p> - -<p>"R—rabi Gospoda (slaves of the Lord)—"</p> - -<p>"Not like that! That part should be taken in such a way that the earth -should tremble and the doors and windows should open of themselves!"</p> - -<p>Jikharev was in a state of incomprehensible excitement. His -extraordinary brows went up and down on his forehead, his voice broke, -his fingers played on an invisible dulcimer.</p> - -<p>"Slaves of the Lord—do you understand?" he said importantly. "You have -got to feel that right to the kernel of your being, right through the -shell. Slaves, praise the Lord! How is it that you—living people—do -not understand that?"</p> - -<p>"We never seem to get it as you say it ought to be," said Sitanov -quietly.</p> - -<p>"Well, let it alone then!"</p> - -<p>Jikharev, offended, went on with his work. He was the best workman -we had, for he could paint faces in the Byzantine manner, and -artistically, in the new Italian style. When he took orders for -iconostasis, Larionovich took counsel with him. He had a fine knowledge -of all original image-paintings; all the costly copies of miraculous -icons, Theodorovski, Kazanski, and others, passed through his hands. -But when he lighted upon the originals, he growled loudly:</p> - -<p>"These originals tie us down; there is no getting away from that fact."</p> - -<p>In spite of his superior position in the workshop, he was less -conceited than the others, and was kind to the apprentices—Pavl and -me. He wanted to teach us the work, since no one else ever bothered -about us.</p> - -<p>He was difficult to understand; he was not usually cheerful, and -sometimes he would work for a whole week in silence, like a dumb -man. He looked on every one as at strangers who amazed him, as if it -were the first time he had come across such people. And although he -was very fond of singing, at such times he did not sing, nor did he -even listen to the songs. All the others watched him, winking at one -another. He would bend over the icon which stood sideways, his tablet -on his knees, the middle resting on the edge of the table, while his -fine brush diligently painted the dark, foreign face. He was dark and -foreign-looking himself. Suddenly he would say in a clear, offended -tone:</p> - -<p>"Forerunner—what does that mean? <i>Tech</i> means in ancient language 'to -go.' A forerunner is one who goes before,—and that is all."</p> - -<p>The workshop was very quiet; every one was glancing askance at -Jikharev, laughing, and in the stillness rang out these strange words:</p> - -<p>"He ought to be painted with a sheepskin and wings."</p> - -<p>"Whom are you talking to?" I asked.</p> - -<p>He was silent, either not hearing my question or not caring to answer -it. Then his words again fell into the expectant silence:</p> - -<p>"The lives of the saints are what we ought to know! What do we know? -We live without wings. Where is the soul? The soul—where is it? The -originals are there—yes—but where are the souls?"</p> - -<p>This thinking aloud caused even Sitanov to laugh derisively, and almost -always some one whispered with malicious joy:</p> - -<p>"He will get drunk on Saturday."</p> - -<p>Tall, sinewy Sitanov, a youngster of twenty-two years, with a round -face without whiskers or eyebrows, gazed sadly and seriously into the -corner.</p> - -<p>I remember when the copy of the Theodorovski Madonna, which I believe -was Kungur, was finished. Jikharev placed the icon on the table and -said loudly, excitedly:</p> - -<p>"It is finished, Little Mother! Bright Chalice, Thou! Thou, bottomless -cup, in which are shed the bitter tears from the hearts of the world of -creatures!"</p> - -<p>And throwing an overcoat over his shoulders, he went out to the tavern. -The young men laughed and whistled, the elder ones looked after him -with envious sighs, and Sitanov went to his work. Looking at it -attentively, he explained:</p> - -<p>"Of course he will go and get drunk, because he is sorry to have to -hand over his work. That sort of regret is not given to all."</p> - -<p>Jikharev's drinking bouts always began on Saturday, and his, you must -understand, was not the usual alcoholic fever of the workman. It began -thus: In the morning he would write a note and sent Pavl somewhere -with it, and before dinner he would say to Larionovich:</p> - -<p>"I am going to the bath to-day."</p> - -<p>"Will you be long?"</p> - -<p>"Well, Lord—"</p> - -<p>"Please don't be gone over Tuesday!"</p> - -<p>Jikharev bowed his bald cranium in assent; his brows twitched. When -he returned from the baths, he attired himself fashionably in a false -shirt-front and a cravat, attached a long silver chain to his satin -waistcoat, and went out without speaking, except to say to Pavl and me:</p> - -<p>"Clean up the workshop before the evening; wash the large table and -scrape it."</p> - -<p>Then a kind of holiday excitement showed itself in every one of them. -They braced themselves up, cleaned themselves, ran to the bath, and -had supper in a hurry. After supper Jikharev appeared with light -refreshments, beer, and wine, and following him came a woman so -exaggerated in every respect that she was almost a monstrosity. She -was six feet five inches in height. All our chairs and stools looked -like toys when she was there, and even tall Sitanov looked undersized -beside her. She was well formed, but her bosom rose like a hillock to -her chin, and her movements were slow and awkward. She was about forty -years of age, but her mobile face, with its great horse-like eyes, was -fresh and smooth, and her small mouth looked as if it had been painted -on, like that of a cheap doll. She smiled, held out her broad hand to -everyone, and spoke unnecessary words:</p> - -<p>"How do you do? There is a hard frost to-day. What a stuffy smell there -is here! It is the smell of paint. How do you do?"</p> - -<p>To look at her, so calm and strong, like a large river at high tide, -was pleasant, but her speech had a soporific influence, and was both -superfluous and wearisome. Before she uttered a word, she used to -puff, making her almost livid cheeks rounder than ever. The young ones -giggled, and whispered among themselves:</p> - -<p>"She is like an engine!"</p> - -<p>"Like a steeple!"</p> - -<p>Pursing her lips and folding her hands under her bosom, she sat at the -cloth-covered table by the samovar, and looked at us all in turn with a -kind expression in her horse-like eyes.</p> - -<p>Every one treated her with great respect, and the younger ones were -even rather afraid of her. The youths looked at that great body with -eager eyes, but when they met her all-embracing glance, they lowered -their own eyes in confusion. Jikharev was also respectful to his guest, -addressed her as "you," called her "little comrade," and pressed -hospitality upon her, bowing low the while.</p> - -<p>"Now don't you put yourself out," she drawled sweetly. "What a fuss you -are making of me, really!"</p> - -<p>As for herself, she lived without hurry; her arms moved only from the -elbow to the wrist, while the elbows themselves were pressed against -her sides. From her came an ardent smell, as of hot bread. Old Golovev, -stammering in his enthusiasm, praised the beauty of the woman, like a -deacon chanting the divine praises. She listened, smiling affably, and -when he had become involved in his speech, said of herself:</p> - -<p>"We were not a bit handsome when we were young; this has all come -through living as a woman. By the time we were thirty, we had become so -remarkable that even the nobility interested themselves in us, and one -district commander actually promised a carriage with a pair of horses."</p> - -<p>Kapendiukhin, tipsy and dishevelled, looked at her with a glance of -hatred, and asked coarsely:</p> - -<p>"What did he promise you that for?"</p> - -<p>"In return for our love, of course," explained the guest.</p> - -<p>"Love," muttered Kapendiukhin, "what sort of love?"</p> - -<p>"Such a handsome young man as you are must know all about love," -answered the woman simply.</p> - -<p>The workshop shook with laughter, and Sitanov growled to Kapendiukhin:</p> - -<p>"A fool, if no worse, she is! People only love that way through a great -passion, as every one knows."</p> - -<p>He was pale with the wine he had drunk; drops of sweat stood on his -temples like pearls; his intelligent eyes burned alarmingly.</p> - -<p>But old Golovev, twitching his monstrous nose, wiped the tears from his -eyes with his fingers, and asked:</p> - -<p>"How many children did you have?"</p> - -<p>"Only one."</p> - -<p>Over the table hung a lamp; over the stove, another. They gave a feeble -light; thick shadows gathered in the corners of the workshop, from -which looked half-painted headless figures. The dull, gray patches in -place of hands and heads look weird and large, and, as usual, it seemed -to me that the bodies of the saints had secretly disappeared from the -painted garments. The glass balls, raised right up to the ceiling, hung -there on hooks in a cloud of smoke, and gleamed with a blue light.</p> - -<p>Jikharev went restlessly round the table, pressing hospitality on every -one. His broad, bald skull inclined first to one and then to another, -his thin fingers always were on the move. He was very thin, and his -nose, which was like that of a bird of prey, seemed to have grown -sharper; when he stood sideways to the light, the shadow of his nose -lay on his cheek.</p> - -<p>"Drink and eat, friends," he said in his ringing tenor.</p> - -<p>"Why do you worry yourself, comrade? They all have hands, and every one -has his own hands and his own appetite; more than that no one can eat, -however much they may want to!"</p> - -<p>"Rest yourself, people," cried Jikharev in a ringing voice. "My -friends, we are all the slaves of God; let us sing, 'Praise His Name.'"</p> - -<p>The chant was not a success; they were all enervated and stupefied by -eating and vodka-drinking. In Kapendiukhin's hands was a harmonica -with a double keyboard; young Victor Salautin, dark and serious as a -young crow, took up a drum, and let his fingers wander over the tightly -stretched skin, which gave forth a deep sound; the tambourines tinkled.</p> - -<p>"The Russian dance!" commanded Jikharev, "little comrade, please."</p> - -<p>"Ach!" sighed the woman, rising, "what a worry you are!"</p> - -<p>She went to the space which had been cleared, and stood there solidly, -like a sentry. She wore a short brown skirt, a yellow batiste blouse, -and a red handkerchief on her head.</p> - -<p>The harmonica uttered passionate lamentations; its little bells rang; -the tambourines tinkled; the skin of the drum gave forth a heavy, dull, -sighing sound. This had an unpleasant effect, as if a man had gone mad -and was groaning, sobbing, and knocking his head against the wall.</p> - -<p>Jikharev could not dance. He simply moved his feet about, and setting -down the heels of his brightly polished boots, jumped about like a -goat, and that not in time with the clamorous music. His feet seemed to -belong to some one else; his body writhed unbeautifully; he struggled -like a wasp in a spider's web, or a fish in a net. It was not at all -a cheerful sight. But all of them, even the tipsy ones, seemed to be -impressed by his convulsions; they all watched his face and arms in -silence. The changing expressions of his face were amazing. Now he -looked kind and rather shy, suddenly he became proud, and frowned -harshly; now he seemed to be startled by something, sighed, closed his -eyes for a second, and when he opened them, wore a sad expression. -Clenching his fists he stole up to the woman, and suddenly stamping his -feet, fell on his knees in front of her with arms outspread and raised -brows, smiling ardently. She looked down upon him with an affable -smile, and said to him calmly:</p> - -<p>"Stand up, comrade."</p> - -<p>She tried to close her eyes, but those eyes, which were in -circumference like a three copeck piece, would not close, and her face -wrinkled and assumed an unpleasant expression.</p> - -<p>She could not dance either, and did nothing but move her enormous body -from side to side, noiselessly transferring it from place to place. In -her left hand was a handkerchief which she waved languidly; her right -was placed on her hip. This gave her the appearance of a large pitcher.</p> - -<p>And Jikharev moved round this massive woman with so many different -changes of expression that he seemed to be ten different men dancing, -instead of one. One was quiet and humble, another proud and terrifying; -in the third movement he was afraid, sighing gently, as if he desired -to slip away unnoticed from the large, unpleasant woman. But still -another person appeared, gnashing his teeth and writhing convulsively -like a wounded dog. This sad, ugly dance reminded me of the soldiers, -the laundresses, and the cooks, and their vile behavior.</p> - -<p>Sitanov's quiet words stuck in my memory:</p> - -<p>"In these affairs every one lies; that's part of the business. Every -one is ashamed; no one loves any one—but it is simply an amusement."</p> - -<p>I did not wish to believe that "every one lied in these affairs." How -about Queen Margot, then? And of course Jikharev was not lying. And I -knew that Sitanov had loved a "street" girl, and she had deceived him. -He had not beaten her for it, as his comrades advised him to do, but -had been kind to her.</p> - -<p>The large woman went on rocking, smiling like a corpse, waving her -handkerchief. Jikharev jumped convulsively about her, and I looked -on and thought: "Could Eve, who was able to deceive God, have been -anything like this horse?" I was seized by a feeling of dislike for her.</p> - -<p>The faceless images looked from the dark walls; the dark night pressed -against the window-panes. The lamps burned dimly in the stuffy -workshop; if one listened, one could hear above the heavy trampling -and the din of voices the quick dropping of water from the copper -wash-basin into the tub.</p> - -<p>How unlike this was to the life I read of in books! It was painfully -unlike it. At length they all grew weary of this, and Kapendiukhin put -the harmonica into Salautin's hands, and cried:</p> - -<p>"Go on! Fire away!"</p> - -<p>He danced like Vanka Tzigan, just as if he was swimming in the air. -Then Pavl Odintzov and Sorokhin danced passionately and lightly after -him. The consumptive Davidov also moved his feet about the floor, and -coughed from the dust, smoke, and the strong odor of vodka and smoked -sausage, which always smells like tanned hide.</p> - -<p>They danced, and sang, and shouted, but each remembered that they were -making merry, and gave each other a sort of test—a test of agility and -endurance.</p> - -<p>Tipsy Sitanov asked first one and then another:</p> - -<p>"Do you think any one could really love a woman like that?"</p> - -<p>He looked as if he were on the verge of tears.</p> - -<p>Larionovich, lifting the sharp bones of his shoulders, answered:</p> - -<p>"A woman is a woman—what more do you want?"</p> - -<p>The two of whom they spoke disappeared unnoticed. Jikharev reappeared -in the workshop in two or three days, went to the bath, and worked for -two weeks in his corner, without speaking, pompous and estranged from -every one.</p> - -<p>"Have they gone?" asked Sitanov of himself, looking round the workshop -with sad blue-gray eyes. His face was not handsome, for there was -something elderly about it, but his eyes were clear and good. Sitanov -was friendly to me—a fact which I owed to my thick note-book in which -I had written poetry. He did not believe in God, but it was hard to -understand who in the workshop, beside Larionovich, loved God and -believed in Him. They all spoke of Him with levity, derisively, just -as they liked to speak of their mistresses. Yet when they dined, or -supped, they all crossed themselves, and when they went to bed, they -said their prayers, and went to church on Sundays and feast days.</p> - -<p>Sitanov did none of these things, and he was counted as an unbeliever.</p> - -<p>"There is no God," he said.</p> - -<p>"Where did we all come from, then?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>When I asked him how God could possibly not be, he explained:</p> - -<p>"Don't you see that God is height!"</p> - -<p>He raised his long arm above his head, then lowered it to an arshin -from the floor, and said:</p> - -<p>"And man is depth! Is that true? And it is written: Man was created in -the image and likeness of God,—as you know! And what is Golovev like?"</p> - -<p>This defeated me. The dirty and drunken old man, in spite of his years, -was given to an unmentionable sin. I remembered the Viatski soldier, -Ermokhin, and grandmother's sister. Where was God's likeness in them?</p> - -<p>"Human creatures are swine—as you know," said Sitanov, and then he -tried to console me. "Never mind, Maxim, there are good people; there -are!"</p> - -<p>He was easy to get on with; he was so simple. When he did not know -anything, he said frankly:</p> - -<p>"I don't know; I never thought about it!"</p> - -<p>This was something unusual. Until I met him, I had only come across -people who knew everything and talked about everything. It was strange -to me to see in his note-book, side by side with good poetry which -touched the soul, many obscene verses which aroused no feeling but that -of shame. When I spoke to him about Pushkin, he showed me "Gavrialad," -which had been copied in his book.</p> - -<p>"What is Pushkin? Nothing but a jester, but that Benediktov—he is -worth paying attention to."</p> - -<p>And closing his eyes he repeated softly:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Look at the bewitching bosom<br /> -Of a beautiful woman."<br /> -</p> - -<p>For some reason he was especially partial to the three lines which he -quoted with joyful pride:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Not even the orbs of an eagle<br /> -Into that warm cloister can penetrate<br /> -And read that heart."<br /> -</p> - -<p>"Do you understand that?"</p> - -<p>It was very uncomfortable to me to have to acknowledge that I did not -understand what he was so pleased about.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></h5> - - -<p>My duties in the workshop were not complicated.</p> - -<p>In the morning when they were all asleep, I had to prepare the samovar -for the men, and while they drank tea in the kitchen, Pavl and I swept -and dusted the workshop, set out red, yellow, or white paints, and then -I went to the shop. In the evening I had to grind up colors and "watch" -the work. At first I watched with great interest, but I soon realized -that all the men who were engaged on this handicraft which was divided -up into so many processes, disliked it, and suffered from a torturing -boredom.</p> - -<p>The evenings were free. I used to tell them stories about life on the -steamer and different stories out of books, and without noticing how -it came about, I soon held a peculiar position in the workshop as -story-teller and reader.</p> - -<p>I soon found out that all these people knew less than I did; almost all -of them had been stuck in the narrow cage of workshop life since their -childhood, and were still in it. Of all the occupants of the workshop, -only Jikharev had been in Moscow, of which he spoke suggestively and -frowningly:</p> - -<p>"Moscow does not believe in tears; there they know which side their -bread is buttered."</p> - -<p>None of the rest had been farther than Shuya, or Vladimir. When mention -was made of Kazan, they asked me:</p> - -<p>"Are there many Russians there? Are there any churches?"</p> - -<p>For them, Perm was in Siberia, and they would not believe that Siberia -was beyond the Urals.</p> - -<p>"Sandres come from the Urals; and sturgeon—where are they found? Where -do they get them? From the Caspian Sea? That means that the Urals are -on the sea!"</p> - -<p>Sometimes I thought that they were laughing at me when they declared -that England was on the other side of the Atlantic, and that Bonaparte -belonged by birth to a noble family of Kalonga. When I told them -stories of what I had seen, they hardly believed me, but they all loved -terrible tales intermixed with history. Even the men of mature years -evidently preferred imagination to the truth. I could see very well -that the more improbable the events, the more fantastic the story, the -more attentively they listened to me. On the whole, reality did not -interest them, and they all gazed dreamily into the future, not wishing -to see the poverty and hideousness of the present.</p> - -<p>This astonished me so much the more, inasmuch as I had felt keenly -enough the contradiction existing between life and books. Here before -me were living people, and in books there were none like them—no -Smouri, stoker Yaakov, fugitive Aleksander Vassiliev, Jikharev, or -washerwoman Natalia.</p> - -<p>In Davidov's trunk a torn copy of Golitzinski's stories was -found—"Ivan Vuijigin," "The Bulgar," "A Volume of Baron Brambeuss." I -read all these aloud to them, and they were delighted. Larionovich said:</p> - -<p>"Reading prevents quarrels and noise; it is a good thing!"</p> - -<p>I began to look about diligently for books, found them, and read almost -every evening. Those were pleasant evenings. It was as quiet as night -in the workshop; the glass balls hung over the tables like white cold -stars, their rays lighting up shaggy and bald heads. I saw round me -at the table, calm, thoughtful faces; now and again an exclamation -of praise of the author, or hero was heard. They were attentive and -benign, quite unlike themselves. I liked them very much at those times, -and they also behaved well to me. I felt that I was in my right place.</p> - -<p>"When we have books it is like spring with us; when the winter frames -are taken out and for the first time we can open the windows as we -like," said Sitanov one day.</p> - -<p>It was hard to find books. We could not afford to subscribe to a -library, but I managed to get them somehow, asking for them wherever I -went, as a charity. One day the second officer of the fire brigade gave -me the first volume of "Lermontov," and it was from this that I felt -the power of poetry, and its mighty influence over people. I remember -even now how, at the first lines of "The Demon," Sitanov looked first -at the book and then at my face, laid down his brush on the table, and, -embracing his knee with his long arms, rocked to and fro, smiling.</p> - -<p>"Not so much noise, brothers," said Larionovich, and also laying aside -his work, he went to Sitanov's table where I was reading. The poem -stirred me painfully and sweetly; my voice was broken; I could hardly -read the lines. Tears poured from my eyes. But what moved me still -more was the dull, cautious movement of the workmen. In the workshop -everything seemed to be diverted from its usual course—drawn to me as -if I had been a magnet. When I had finished the first part, almost all -of them were standing round the table, closely pressing against one -another, embracing one another, frowning and laughing.</p> - -<p>"Go on reading," said Jikharev, bending my head over the book.</p> - -<p>When I had finished reading, he took the book, looked at the title, put -it under his arm, and said:</p> - -<p>"We must read this again! We will read it to-morrow! I will hide the -book away."</p> - -<p>He went away, locked "Lermontov" in his drawer, and returned to his -work. It was quiet in the workshop; the men stole back to their tables. -Sitanov went to the window, pressed his forehead against the glass, and -stood there as if frozen. Jikharev, again laying down his brush, said -in a stern voice:</p> - -<p>"Well, such is life; slaves of God—yes—ah!"</p> - -<p>He shrugged his shoulders, hid his face, and went on:</p> - -<p>"I can draw the devil himself; black and rough, with wings of red -flame, with red lead, but the face, hands, and feet—these should be -bluish-white, like snow on a moonlight night."</p> - -<p>Until close upon supper-time he revolved about on his stool, -restless and unlike himself, drumming with his fingers and talking -unintelligibly of the devil, of women and Eve, of paradise, and of the -sins of holy men.</p> - -<p>"That is all true!" he declared. "If the saints sinned with sinful -women, then of course the devil may sin with a pure soul."</p> - -<p>They listened to him in silence; probably, like me, they had no -desire to speak. They worked unwillingly, looking all the time at -their watches, and as soon as it struck ten, they put away their work -altogether.</p> - -<p>Sitanov and Jikharev went out to the yard, and I went with them. There, -gazing at the stars, Sitanov said:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Like a wandering caravan<br /> -Thrown into space, it shone."<br /> -</p> - -<p>"You did not make that up yourself!"</p> - -<p>"I can never remember words," said Jikharev, shivering in the bitter -cold. "I can't remember anything; but he, I see—It is an amazing -thing—a man who actually pities the devil! He has made you sorry for -him, hasn't he?"</p> - -<p>"He has," agreed Sitanov.</p> - -<p>"There, that is a real man!" exclaimed Jikharev reminiscently. In the -vestibule he warned me: "You, Maxim, don't speak to any one in the shop -about that book, for of course it is a forbidden one."</p> - -<p>I rejoiced; this must be one of the books of which the priest had -spoken to me in the confessional.</p> - -<p>We supped languidly, without the usual noise and talk, as if something -important had occurred and we could not keep from thinking about it, -and after supper, when we were going to bed, Jikharev said to me, as he -drew forth the book:</p> - -<p>"Come, read it once more!"</p> - -<p>Several men rose from their beds, came to the table, and sat themselves -round it, undressed as they were, with their legs crossed.</p> - -<p>And again when I had finished reading, Jikharev said, strumming his -fingers on the table:</p> - -<p>"That is a living picture of him! Ach, devil, devil—that's how he is, -brothers, eh?"</p> - -<p>Sitanov leaned over my shoulder, read something, and laughed, as he -said:</p> - -<p>"I shall copy that into my own note-book." Jikharev stood up and -carried the book to his own table, but he turned back and said in an -offended, shaky voice:</p> - -<p>"We live like blind puppies—to what end we do not know. We are not -necessary either to God or the devil! How are we slaves of the Lord? -The Jehovah of slaves and the Lord Himself speaks with them! With -Moses, too! He even gave Moses a name; it means 'This is mine'—a man -of God. And we—what are we?"</p> - -<p>He shut up the book and began to dress himself, asking Sitanov:</p> - -<p>"Are you coming to the tavern?"</p> - -<p>"I shall go to my own tavern," answered Sitanov softly.</p> - -<p>When they had gone out, I lay down on the floor by the door, beside -Pavl Odintzov. He tossed about for a long time, snored, and suddenly -began to weep quietly.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you?"</p> - -<p>"I am sick with pity for all of them," he said. "This is the fourth -year of my life with them, and I know all about them."</p> - -<p>I also was sorry for these people. We did not go to sleep for a long -time, but talked about them in whispers, finding goodness, good traits -in each one of them, and also something which increased our childish -pity.</p> - -<p>I was very friendly with Pavl Odintzov. They made a good workman of him -in the end, but it did not last long; before the end of three years he -had begun to drink wildly, later on I met him in rags on the Khitrov -market-place in Moscow, and not long ago I heard that he had died of -typhoid. It is painful to remember how many good people in my life I -have seen senselessly ruined. People of all nations wear themselves -out, and to ruin themselves comes natural but nowhere do they wear -themselves out so terribly quickly, so senselessly, as in our own -Russia.</p> - -<p>Then he was a round-headed boy two years older than myself; he was -lively, intelligent, and upright; he was talented, for he could draw -birds, cats, and dogs excellently, and was amazingly clever in his -caricatures of the workmen, always depicting them as feathered. Sitanov -was shown as a sad-looking woodcock standing on one leg, Jikharev as a -cock with a torn comb and no feathers on his head; sickly Davidov was -an injured lapwing. But best of all was his drawing of the old chaser, -Golovev, representing him as a bat with large whiskers, ironical nose, -and four feet with six nails on each. From the round, dark face, white, -round eyes gazed forth, the pupils of which looked like the grain of a -lentil. They were placed crossways, thus giving to the face a lifelike -and hideous expression.</p> - -<p>The workmen were not offended when Pavl showed them the caricatures, -but the one of Golovev made an unpleasant impression on them all, and -the artist was sternly advised:</p> - -<p>"You had better tear it up, for if the old man sees it, he will half -kill you!"</p> - -<p>The dirty, putrid, everlastingly drunk old man was tiresomely pious, -and inextinguishably malicious. He vilified the whole workshop to the -shopman whom the mistress was about to marry to her niece, and who -for that reason felt himself to be master of the whole house and the -workpeople. The workmen hated him, but they were afraid of him, and -for the same reason were afraid of Golovev, too.</p> - -<p>Pavl worried the chaser furiously and in all manner of ways, just as if -he had set before himself the aim of never allowing Golovev to have a -moment's peace. I helped him in this with enthusiasm, and the workshop -amused itself with our pranks, which were almost always pitilessly -coarse. But we were warned:</p> - -<p>"You will get into trouble, children! Kouzka-Juchek will half kill you!"</p> - -<p>Kouzka-Juchek was the nickname of the shopman, which was given to him -on the quiet by the workshop.</p> - -<p>The warning did not alarm us. We painted the face of the chaser when -he was asleep. One day when he was in a drunken slumber we gilded his -nose, and it was three days before he was able to get the gold out -of the holes in his spongy nose. But every time that we succeeded in -infuriating the old man, I remembered the steamboat, and the little -Viatski soldier, and I was conscious of a disturbance in my soul. In -spite of his age, Golovev was so strong that he often beat us, falling -upon us unexpectedly; he would beat us and then complain of us to the -mistress.</p> - -<p>She, who was also drunk every day, and for that reason always kind -and cheerful, tried to frighten us, striking her swollen hands on the -table, and crying: "So you have been saucy again, you wild beast? -He is an old man, and you ought to respect him! Who was it that put -photographic solution in his glass, instead of wine?"</p> - -<p>"We did."</p> - -<p>The mistress was amazed.</p> - -<p>"Good Lord, they actually admit it! Ah, accursed ones, you ought to -respect old men!"</p> - -<p>She drove us away, and in the evening she complained to the shopman, -who spoke to me angrily:</p> - -<p>"How can you read books, even the Holy Scriptures, and still be so -saucy, eh? Take care, my brother!"</p> - -<p>The mistress was solitary and touchingly sad. Sometimes when she had -been drinking sweet liqueurs, she would sit at the window and sing:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"No one is sorry for me,<br /> -And pity have I from none;<br /> -What my grief is no one knows;<br /> -To whom shall I tell my sorrow."<br /> -</p> - - -<p>And sobbingly she drawled in the quavering voice of age:</p> - -<p>"U—00—00—"</p> - -<p>One day I saw her going down the stairs with a jug of warm milk in -her hands, but suddenly her legs gave way under her. She sat down, -and descended the stairs, sadly bumping from step to step, and never -letting the jug out of her hand. The milk splashed over her dress, and -she, with her hands outstretched, cried angrily to the jug:</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you, satyr? Where are you going?"</p> - -<p>Not stout, but soft to flabbiness, she looked like an old cat which -had grown beyond catching mice, and, languid from overfeeding, could do -no more than purr, dwelling sweetly on the memories of past triumphs -and pleasures.</p> - -<p>"Here," said Sitanov, frowning thoughtfully, "was a large business, a -fine workshop, and clever men labored at this trade; but now that is -all done with, all gone to ruin, all directed by the paws of Kuzikin! -It is a case of working and working, and all for strangers! When one -thinks of this, a sort of spring seems to break in one's head. One -wants to do nothing,—a fig for any kind of work!—just to lie on the -roof, lie there for the whole summer and look up into the sky."</p> - -<p>Pavl Odintzov also appropriated these thoughts of Sitanov, and smoking -a cigarette which had been given him by his elders, philosophized about -God, drunkenness, and women. He enlarged on the fact that all work -disappears; certain people do it and others destroy it, neither valuing -it nor understanding it.</p> - -<p>At such times his sharp, pleasant face frowned, aged. He would sit on -his bed on the floor, embracing his knees, and look long at the blue -square of the window, at the roof of the shed which lay under a fall of -snow, and at the stars in the winter sky.</p> - -<p>The workmen snored, or talked in their sleep; one of them raved, -choking with words; in the loft, Davidov coughed away what was left of -his life. In the corner, body to body, wrapped in an iron-bound sleep -of intoxication, lay those "slaves of God"—Kapendiukhin, Sorokhin, -Pershin; from the walls icons without faces, hands, or feet looked -forth. There was a close smell of bad eggs, and dirt, which had turned -sour in the crevices of the floor.</p> - -<p>"How I pity them all!" whispered Pavl. "Lord!"</p> - -<p>This pity for myself and others disturbed me more and more. To us both, -as I have said before, all the workmen seemed to be good people, but -their lives were bad, unworthy of them, unbearably dull. At the time of -the winter snowstorms, when everything on the earth—the houses, the -trees—was shaken, howled, and wept, and in Lent, when the melancholy -bells rang out, the dullness of it all flowed over the workshop like -a wave, as oppressive as lead, weighing people down, killing all that -was alive in them, driving them to the tavern, to women, who served the -same purpose as vodka in helping them to forget.</p> - -<p>On such evenings books were of no use, so Pavl and I tried to amuse -the others in our own way: smearing our faces with soot and paint, -dressing ourselves up and playing different comedies composed by -ourselves, heroically fighting against the boredom till we made them -laugh. Remembering the "Account of how the soldier saved Peter the -Great," I turned this book into a conversational form, and climbing on -to Davidov's pallet-bed, we acted thereon cheerfully, cutting off the -head of an imaginary Swede. Our audience burst out laughing.</p> - -<p>They were especially delighted with the legend of the Chinese devil, -Sing-U-Tongia. Pashka represented the unhappy devil who had planned -to do a good deed, and I acted all the other characters—the people -of the field, subjects, the good soul, and even the stones on which -the Chinese devil rested in great pain after each of his unsuccessful -attempts to perform a good action.</p> - -<p>Our audience laughed loudly, and I was amazed when I saw how easily -they could be made to laugh. This facility provoked me unpleasantly.</p> - -<p>"Ach, clowns," they cried. "Ach, you devils!"</p> - -<p>But the further I went, the more I was troubled with the thought that -sorrow appealed more than joy to the hearts of these people. Gaiety has -no place in their lives, and as such has no value, but they evoke it -from under their burdens, as a contrast to the dreamy Russian sadness. -The inward strength of a gaiety which lives not of itself not because -it wishes to live, but because it is aroused by the call of sad days, -is suspect. And too often Russian gaiety changes suddenly into cruel -tragedy. A man will be dancing as if he were breaking the shackles -which bound him. Suddenly a ferocious wild beast is let loose in him, -and with the unreasoning anguish of a wild beast he will throw himself -upon all who come in his way, tear them in pieces, bite them, destroy -them.</p> - -<p>This intense joy aroused by exterior forces irritated me, and -stirred to self-oblivion, I began to compose and act suddenly -created fantasies—for I wanted so much to arouse a real, free, and -unrestrained joy in these people. I succeeded in some measure. They -praised me, they were amazed at me, but the sadness which I had almost -succeeded in shaking off, stole back again, gradually growing denser -and stronger, harassing them.</p> - -<p>Gray Larionovich said kindly:</p> - -<p>"Well, you are an amusing fellow, God bless you!"</p> - -<p>"He is a boon to us," Jikharev seconded him.</p> - -<p>"You know, Maxim, you ought to go into a circus, or a theater; you -would make a good clown."</p> - -<p>Out of the whole workshop only two went to the theaters, on Christmas -or carnival weeks, Kapendiukhin and Sitanov, and the older workmen -seriously counseled them to wash themselves from this sin in the -baptismal waters of the Jordan. Sitanov particularly would often urge -me:</p> - -<p>"Throw up everything and be an actor!"</p> - -<p>And much moved, he would tell me the "sad" story of the life of the -actor, Yakolev.</p> - -<p>"There, that will show you what may happen!"</p> - -<p>He loved to tell stories about Marie Stuart, whom he called "the -rogue," and his peculiar delight was the "Spanish nobleman."</p> - -<p>"Don Cæsar de Bazan was a real nobleman. Maximich! Wonderful!"</p> - -<p>There was something of the "Spanish nobleman" about himself.</p> - -<p>One day in the market-place, in front of the fire-station, three -firemen were amusing themselves by beating a peasant. A crowd of -people, numbering about forty persons, looked on and cheered the -soldiers. Sitanov threw himself into the brawl. With swinging blows of -his long arms he struck the firemen, lifted the peasant, and carried -him into the crowd, crying:</p> - -<p>"Take him away!"</p> - -<p>But he remained behind himself, one against three. The yard of the -fire-station was only about ten steps away; they might easily have -called others to their aid and Sitanov would have been killed. But by -good luck the firemen were frightened and ran away into the yard.</p> - -<p>"Dogs!" he cried after them.</p> - -<p>On Sunday the young people used to attend boxing-matches held in the -Tyessni yard behind the Petropavlovski churchyard, where sledge-drivers -and peasants from the adjacent villages assembled to fight with the -workmen. The wagoners put up against the town an eminent boxer, a -Mordovan giant with a small head, and large eyes always full of tears. -Wiping away the tears with the dirty sleeve of his short <i>caftan</i>, -he stood before his backers with his legs planted widely apart, and -challenged good-naturedly:</p> - -<p>"Come on, then; what is the matter with you? Are you cold?"</p> - -<p>Kapendiukhin was set up against him on our side, and the Mordovan -always beat him. But the bleeding, panting Cossack said:</p> - -<p>"I 'll lick that Mordovan if I die for it!"</p> - -<p>In the end, that became the one aim of his life. He even went to the -length of giving up vodka, rubbed his body with snow before he went to -sleep, ate a lot of meat, and to develop his muscles, crossed himself -many times every evening with two pound weights. But this did not -avail him at all. Then he sewed a piece of lead inside his gloves, and -boasted to Sitanov:</p> - -<p>"Now we will finish the Mordovan!"</p> - -<p>Sitanov sternly warned him:</p> - -<p>"You had better throw it away, or I will give you away before the -fight."</p> - -<p>Kapendiukhin did not believe him, but when the time for the fight -arrived, Sitanov said abruptly to the Mordovan:</p> - -<p>"Step aside, Vassili Ivanich; I have something to say to Kapendiukhin -first!"</p> - -<p>The Cossack turned purple and roared:</p> - -<p>"I have nothing to do with you; go away!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, you have!" said Sitanov, and approaching him, he looked into the -Cossack's face with a compelling glance.</p> - -<p>Kapendiukhin stamped on the ground, tore the gloves from his hands, -thrust them in his breast, and went quickly away from the scene of his -fight.</p> - -<p>Both our side and the other were unpleasantly surprised, and a certain -important personage said angrily to Sitanov:</p> - -<p>"That is quite against the rules, brother,—to bring private affairs to -be settled in the world of the prize ring!"</p> - -<p>They fell upon Sitanov from all sides, and abused him. He kept silence -for a long time, but at length he said to the important personage:</p> - -<p>"Am I to stand by and see murder done?"</p> - -<p>The important personage at once guessed the truth, and actually taking -off his cap said:</p> - -<p>"Then our gratitude is due to you!"</p> - -<p>"Only don't go and spread it abroad, uncle!"</p> - -<p>"Why should I? Kapendiukhin is hardly ever the victor, and ill-success -embitters a man. We understand! But in future we will have his gloves -examined before the contest."</p> - -<p>"That is your affair!"</p> - -<p>When the important personage had gone away, our side began to abuse -Kapendiukhin:</p> - -<p>"You have made a nice mess of it. He would have killed his man, our -Cossack would, and now we have to stay on the losing side!"</p> - -<p>They abused him at length, captiously, to their hearts' content.</p> - -<p>Sitanov sighed and said:</p> - -<p>"Oh, you guttersnipes!"</p> - -<p>And to the surprise of everyone he challenged the Mordovan to a single -contest. The latter squared up and flourishing his fists said jokingly:</p> - -<p>"We will kill each other."</p> - -<p>A good number of persons, taking hands, formed a wide, spacious circle. -The boxers, looking at each other keenly, changed over, the right hand -held out, the left on their breasts. The experienced people noticed at -once that Sitanov's arms were longer than those of the Mordovan. It was -very quiet; the snow crunched under the feet of the boxers. Some one, -unable to restrain his impatience, muttered complainingly and eagerly:</p> - -<p>"They ought to have begun by now."</p> - -<p>Sitanov flourished his right hand, the Mordovan raised his left -for defense, and received a straight blow under the right arm from -Sitanov's left hand. He gasped, retired, and exclaimed in a tone of -satisfaction:</p> - -<p>"He is young, but he is no fool!"</p> - -<p>They began to leap upon one another, striking each other's breasts -with blows from their mighty fists. In a few minutes not only our own -people, but strangers began to cry excitedly:</p> - -<p>"Get your blows in quicker, image-painter! Fix him up, embosser."</p> - -<p>The Mordovan was a little stronger than Sitanov, but as he was -considerably the heavier, he could not deal such swift blows, and -received two or three to every one he gave. But his seasoned body -apparently did not suffer much, and he was laughing and exclaiming all -the time, when, suddenly, with a heavy upward blow he put Sitanov's -right arm out of joint from the shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Part them; it is a draw!" cried several voices, and, breaking the -circle, the crowd gathered round the pugilists.</p> - -<p>"He is not very strong but he is skilful, the image-painter," said the -Mordovan good-naturedly. "He will make a good boxer, and that I say -before the whole world!"</p> - -<p>The elder persons began a general wrestling match, and I took Sitanov -to the Feldsher bone-setter. His deed had raised him still higher in my -esteem, had increased my sympathy with him, and his importance in my -eyes.</p> - -<p>He was, in the main, very upright and honorable, and he felt that he -had only done his duty, but the graceless Kapendiukhin made fun of him -lightly.</p> - -<p>"Ekh, Genya, you live for show! You have polished up your soul like -a samovar before a holiday, "and you go about boasting, 'look how -brightly it shines!' But your soul is really brass, and a very dull -affair, too."</p> - -<p>Sitanov remained calmly silent, either working hard or copying -Lermontov's verses into his note-book. He spent all his spare time in -this copying, and when I suggested to him:</p> - -<p>"Why, when you have plenty of money, don't you buy the book?" he -answered:</p> - -<p>"No, it is better in my own handwriting."</p> - -<p>Having written a page in his pretty, small handwriting, he would read -softly while he was waiting for the ink to dry:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Without regret, as a being apart,<br /> -You will look down upon this earth,<br /> -Where there is neither real happiness<br /> -Nor lasting beauty."<br /> -</p> - -<p>And he said, half-closing his eyes:</p> - -<p>"That is true. Ekh! and well he knows the truth, too!"</p> - -<p>The behavior of Sitanov to Kapendiukhin always amazed me. When he had -been drinking, the Cossack always tried to pick a quarrel with his -comrade, and Sitanov would go on for a long time bearing it, and saying -persuasively:</p> - -<p>"That will do, let me alone!"</p> - -<p>And then he would start to beat the drunken man so cruelly that the -workmen, who regarded internal dissensions amongst themselves merely as -a spectacle, interfered between the friends, and separated them.</p> - -<p>"If we did n't stop Evgen in time, he would beat any one to death, and -he would never forgive himself," they said.</p> - -<p>When he was sober Kapendiukhin ceaselessly jeered at Sitanov, making -fun of his passion for poetry and his unhappy romance, obscenely, but -unsuccessfully trying to arouse jealousy. Sitanov listened to the -Cossack's taunts in silence, without taking offense, and he sometimes -even laughed with Kapendiukhin at himself.</p> - -<p>They slept side by side, and at night they would hold long, whispered -conversations about something. These conversations gave me no peace, -for I was anxious to know what these two people who were so unlike each -other found to talk about in such a friendly manner. But when I went -near them, the Cossack yelled:</p> - -<p>"What do you want?"</p> - -<p>But Sitanov did not seem to see me.</p> - -<p>However, one day they called me, and the Cossack asked:</p> - -<p>"Maximich, if you were rich, what would you do?"</p> - -<p>"I would buy books."</p> - -<p>"And what else?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Ekh!" said Kapendiukhin, turning away from me in disgust, but Sitanov -said calmly:</p> - -<p>"You see; no one knows that, whether they be old or young. I tell you -that riches in themselves are worth nothing, unless they are applied to -some special purpose."</p> - -<p>I asked them, "What are you talking about?"</p> - -<p>"We don't feel inclined to sleep, and so we are talking," answered the -Cossack.</p> - -<p>Later, listening to them, I found that they were discussing by -night those things which other people discussed by day—God, truth, -happiness, the stupidity and cunning of women, the greediness of the -rich, and the fact that life is complicated and incomprehensible.</p> - -<p>I always listened to their conversations eagerly; they excited me. I -was pleased to think that almost every one had arrived at the same -conclusion; namely, that life is evil, and that we ought to have a -better form of existence! But at the same time I saw that the desire -to live under better conditions would have no effect, would change -nothing in the lives of the work-people, in their relations one with -another. All these talks, throwing a light upon my life as it lay -before me, revealed at the same time, beyond it, a sort of melancholy -emptiness; and in this emptiness, like specks of dust in a pond ruffled -by the wind, floated people, absurdly and exasperatingly, among them -those very people who had said that such a crowd was devoid 'of sense. -Always ready to give their opinion, they were always passing judgment -on others, repeating, bragging, and starting bitter quarrels about mere -trifles. They were always seriously offending one another. They tried -to guess what would happen to them after death; while on the threshold -of the workshop where the washstand stood, the floor-boards had rotted -away. From that damp, fetid hole rose the cold, damp smell of sour -earth, and it was this that made one's feet freeze. Pavl and I stopped -up this hole with straw and cloths. We often said that the boards -should be renewed, but the hole grew larger and larger, and in bad -weather fumes rose from it as from a pipe. Every one caught cold, and -coughed. The tin ventilator in the fortochka squeaked, and when some -one had oiled it, though they had all been grumbling at it, Jikharev -said:</p> - -<p>"It is dull, now that the fortochka has stopped squeaking."</p> - -<p>To come straight from the bath and lie down on a dirty, dusty bed, in -the midst of dirt and bad smells, did not revolt any one of them. There -were many insignificant trifles which made our lives unbearable, which -might easily have been remedied, but no one took the trouble to do -anything.</p> - -<p>They often said:</p> - -<p>"No one has any mercy upon human creatures,—neither God nor we -ourselves."</p> - -<p>But when Pavl and I washed dying Davidov, who was eaten up with dirt -and insects, a laugh was raised against us. They took off their shirts -and invited us to search them, called us blockheads, and jeered at us -as if we had done something shameful and very ludicrous.</p> - -<p>From Christmas till the beginning of Lent drew near, Davidov lay in the -loft, coughing protractedly, spitting blood, which, if it did not fall -into the wash-hand basin, splashed on the floor. At night he woke the -others with his delirious shrieks.</p> - -<p>Almost every day they said:</p> - -<p>"We must take him to the hospital!"</p> - -<p>But it turned out that Davidov's passport had expired. Then he seemed -better, and they said:</p> - -<p>"It is of no consequence after all; he will soon be dead!"</p> - -<p>And he would say to himself:</p> - -<p>"I shall soon be gone!"</p> - -<p>He was a quiet humorist and also tried to relieve the dullness of the -workshop by jokes, hanging down his dark bony face, and saying in a -wheezy voice:</p> - -<p>"Listen, people, to the voice of one who ascended to the loft.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"In the loft I live,<br /> -Early do I wake;<br /> -Asleep or awake<br /> -Cockroaches devour me."<br /> -</p> - -<p>"He is not downhearted!" exclaimed his audience.</p> - -<p>Sometimes Pavl and I went to him, and he joked with difficulty.</p> - -<p>"With what shall I regale you, my dear guests? A fresh little -spider—would you like that?"</p> - -<p>He died slowly, and he grew very weary of it. He said with unfeigned -vexation:</p> - -<p>"It seems that I can't die, somehow; it is really a calamity!"</p> - -<p>His fearlessness in the face of death frightened Pavl very much. He -awoke me in the night and whispered:</p> - -<p>"Maximich, he seems to be dying. Suppose he dies in the night, when we -are lying beneath him—Oh, Lord! I am frightened of dead people."</p> - -<p>Or he would say:</p> - -<p>"Why was he born? Not twenty-two years have passed over his head and he -is dying."</p> - -<p>Once, on a moonlight night he awoke, and gazing with wide-open, -terrified eyes said:</p> - -<p>"Listen!"</p> - -<p>Davidov was croaking in the loft, saying quickly and clearly:</p> - -<p>"Give it to me—give—"</p> - -<p>Then he began to hiccup.</p> - -<p>"He is dying, by God he is; you see!" said Pavl agitatedly.</p> - -<p>I had been carrying snow from the yard into the fields all day, and I -was very sleepy, but Pavl begged me:</p> - -<p>"Don't go to sleep, please; for Christ's sake don't go to sleep!"</p> - -<p>And suddenly getting on to his knees, he cried frenziedly:</p> - -<p>"Get up! Davidov is dead!"</p> - -<p>Some of them awoke; several figures rose from the beds; angry voices -were raised, asking questions.</p> - -<p>Kapendiukhin climbed up into the loft and said in a tone of amazement:</p> - -<p>"It is a fact; he is dead, although he is still warm." It was quiet -now. Jikharev crossed himself, and wrapping himself round in his -blanket, said:</p> - -<p>"Well, he is in the Kingdom of Heaven now!" Some one suggested:</p> - -<p>"Let us carry him into the vestibule."</p> - -<p>Kapendiukhin climbed down from the loft and glanced through the window.</p> - -<p>"Let him lie where he is till the morning; he never hurt any one while -he was alive."</p> - -<p>Pavl, hiding his head under the pillow, sobbed.</p> - -<p>But Sitanov did not even wake!</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></h5> - - -<p>The snow melted away from the fields; the wintry clouds in the sky -passed away; wet snow and rain fell upon the earth; the sun was slower -and slower in performing his daily journey; the air grew warmer; and it -seemed that the joyful spring had already arrived, sportively hiding -herself behind the fields, and would soon burst upon the town itself. -In the streets there was brown mud; streams ran along the gutters; in -the thawed places of Arestantski Square the sparrows hopped joyfully. -And in human creatures, also, was apparent the same excitement -as was shown by the sparrows. Above the sounds of spring, almost -uninterruptedly from morning to night, rang out the Lenten bells, -stirring one's heart with their muffled strokes. In that sound, as in -the speech of an old man, there was hidden something of displeasure, as -if the bells had said with cold melancholy:</p> - -<p>"Has been, this has been, has been—"</p> - -<p>On my name-day the workmen gave me a small, beautifully painted image -of Alexei, the man of God, and Jikharev made an impressive, long -speech, which I remember very well.</p> - -<p>"What are you?" said he, with much play of finger and raising of -eyebrows. "Nothing more than a small boy, an orphan, thirteen years -old—and I, nearly four times your age, praise you and approve of you, -because you always stand with your face to people and not sideways! -Stand like that always, and you will be all right!"</p> - -<p>He spoke of the slaves of God, and of his people, but the difference -between people and slaves I could never understand, and I don't believe -that he understood it himself. His speech was long-winded, the workshop -was laughing at him, and I stood, with the image in my hand, very -touched and very confused, not knowing what I ought to do. At length -Kapendiukhin called out irritably:</p> - -<p>"Oh, leave off singing his praises; his ears are already turning blue!"</p> - -<p>Then clapping me on the shoulder, he began to praise me himself:</p> - -<p>"What is good in you is what you have in common with all human -creatures, and not the fact that it is difficult to scold and beat you -when you have given cause for it!"</p> - -<p>They all looked at me with kind eyes, making good-natured fun of my -confusion. A little more and I believe I should have burst out crying -from the unexpected joy of finding myself valued by these people. And -that very morning the shopman had said to Petr Vassilich, nodding his -head toward me:</p> - -<p>"An unpleasant boy that, and good for nothing!"</p> - -<p>As usual I had gone to the shop in the morning, but at noon the shopman -had said to me:</p> - -<p>"Go home and clear the snow off the roof of the warehouse, and clean -out the cellar."</p> - -<p>That it was my name-day he did not know, and I had thought that no -one knew it. When the ceremony of congratulations had finished in the -workshop, I changed my clothes and climbed up to the roof of the shed -to throw off the smooth, heavy snow which had accumulated during that -winter. But being excited, I forgot to close the door of the cellar, -and threw all the snow into it. When I jumped down to the ground, I saw -my mistake, and set myself at once to get the snow away from the door. -Being wet, it lay heavily; the wooden, spade moved it with difficulty; -there was no iron one, and I broke the spade at the very moment when -the shopman appeared at the yard-gate. The truth of the Russian -proverb, "Sorrow follows on the heels of joy," was proved to me.</p> - -<p>"So—o—o!" said the shopman derisively, "you are a fine workman, -the devil take you! If I get hold of your senseless blockhead—" He -flourished the blade of the shovel over me.</p> - -<p>I move away, saying angrily:</p> - -<p>"I was n't engaged as a yardman, anyhow."</p> - -<p>He hurled the stick against my legs. I took up a snowball and threw -it right in his face. He ran away snorting, and I left off working, -and went into the workshop. In a few minutes his fiancée came running -downstairs. She was an agile maiden, with pimples on her vacant face.</p> - -<p>"Maximich, you are to go upstairs!"</p> - -<p>"I am not going!" I said.</p> - -<p>Larionich asked in an amazed undertone:</p> - -<p>"What is this? You are not going?"</p> - -<p>I told him about the affair. With an anxious frown he went upstairs, -muttering to me:</p> - -<p>"Oh, you impudent youngster—"</p> - -<p>The workshop resounded with abuse of the shopman, and Kapendiukhin said:</p> - -<p>"Well, they will kick you out this time!"</p> - -<p>This did not alarm me. My relations with the shopman had already become -unbearable. His hatred of me was undisguised and became more and more -acute, while, for my part, I could not endure him. But what I wanted -to know was: why did he behave so absurdly to me? He would throw coins -about the floor of the shop, and when I was sweeping, I found them, and -laid them on the counter in the cup which contained the small money -kept for beggars. When I guessed what these frequent finds meant I said -to him:</p> - -<p>"You throw money about in my way on purpose!" He flew out at me and -cried incautiously:</p> - -<p>"Don't you dare to teach me! I know what I am doing!"</p> - -<p>But he corrected himself immediately:</p> - -<p>"And what do you mean by my throwing it about purposely? It falls about -itself."</p> - -<p>He forbade me to read the books in the shop, saying:</p> - -<p>"That is not for you to trouble your head about! What! Have you an -idea of becoming a valuer, sluggard?"</p> - -<p>He did not cease his attempts to catch me in the theft of small money, -and I realised that if, when I was sweeping the floor, the coin should -roll into a crevice between the boards, he would declare that I had -stolen it. Then I told him again that he had better give up that game, -but that same day, when I returned from the tavern with the boiling -water, I heard him suggesting to the newly engaged assistant in the -neighboring shop:</p> - -<p>"Egg him on to steal psalters. We shall soon be having three hampers of -them."</p> - -<p>I knew that they were talking about me, for when I entered the shop -they both looked confused; and besides these signs, I had grounds for -suspecting them of a foolish conspiracy against me.</p> - -<p>This was not the first time that that assistant had been in the service -of the man next door. He was accounted a clever salesman, but he -suffered from alcoholism; in one of his drinking bouts the master had -dismissed him, but had afterwards taken him back. He was an anaemic, -feeble person, with cunning eyes. Apparently amiable and submissive -to the slightest gesture of his master, he smiled a little, clever -smile in his beard all the time, was fond of uttering sharp sayings, -and exhaled the rotten smell which comes from people with bad teeth, -although his own were white and strong.</p> - -<p>One day he gave me a terrible surprise; he came towards me smiling -pleasantly, but suddenly seized my cap off my head and took hold of -my hair. We began to struggle. He pushed me from the gallery into the -shop, trying all the time to throw me against the large images which -stood about on the floor. If he had succeeded in this, I should have -broken the glass, or chipped the carving, and no doubt scratched some -of the costly icons. He was very weak, and I soon overcame him; when to -my great amazement the bearded man sat on the floor and cried bitterly, -rubbing his bruised nose.</p> - -<p>The next morning when our masters had both gone out somewhere and we -were alone, he said to me in a friendly manner, rubbing the lump on the -bridge of his nose and under his eyes with his finger:</p> - -<p>"Do you think that it was of my own will or desire that I attacked -you? I am not a fool, you know, and I knew that you would be more than -a match for me. I am a man of little strength, a tippler. It was your -master who told me to do it. 'Lead him on,' he said, 'and get him to -break something in the shop while he is fighting you. Let him damage -something, anyhow!' I should never have done it of my own accord; look -how you have ornamented my phiz for me."</p> - -<p>I believed him, and I began to be sorry for him. I knew that he lived, -half-starved, with a woman who knocked him about. However, I asked him:</p> - -<p>"And if he told you to poison a person, I suppose you would do it?"</p> - -<p>"He might do that," said the shopman with a pitiful smile; "he is -capable of it."</p> - -<p>Soon after this he asked me:</p> - -<p>"Listen, I have not a farthing; there is nothing to eat at home; my -missus nags at me. Couldn't you take an icon out of your stock and give -it to me to sell, like a friend, eh? Will you? Or a breviary?"</p> - -<p>I remembered the boot-shop, and the beadle of the church, and I -thought: "Will this man give me away?" But it was hard to refuse him, -and I gave him an icon. To steal a breviary worth several rubles, that -I could not do; it seemed, to me a great crime. What would you have? -Arithmetic always lies concealed in ethics; the holy ingenuousness of -"Regulations for the Punishment of Criminals" clearly gives away this -little secret, behind which the great lie of property hides itself.</p> - -<p>When I heard my shopman suggesting that this miserable man should -incite me to steal psalters I was afraid. It was clear that he knew how -charitable I had been on the other's behalf, and that the man from next -door had told him about the icon.</p> - -<p>The abominableness of being charitable at another person's expense, -and the realization of the rotten trap that had been set for me—both -these things aroused in me a feeling of indignation and disgust with -myself and every one else. For several days I tormented myself cruelly, -waiting for the arrival of the hamper with the books. At length they -came, and when I was putting them away in the store-room, the shopman -from next door came to me and asked me to give him a breviary.</p> - -<p>Then I asked him:</p> - -<p>"Did you tell my master about the icon?"</p> - -<p>"I did," he answered in a melancholy voice; "I can keep nothing back, -brother."</p> - -<p>This utterly confounded me, and I sat on the floor staring at him -stupidly, while he muttered hurriedly, confusedly, desperately -miserable:</p> - -<p>"You see your man guessed—or rather, mine guessed and told yours—"</p> - -<p>I thought I was lost. These people had been conspiring against me, and -now there was a place ready for me in the colony for youthful criminals! -If that were so, nothing mattered! If one must drown, it is better -to drown in a deep spot. I put a breviary into the hands of the -shopman; he hid it in the sleeves of his greatcoat and went away. But -he returned suddenly, the breviary fell at my feet, and the man strode -away, saying:</p> - -<p>"I won't take it! It would be all over with you." I did not understand -these words. Why should it be all over with me? But I was very glad -that he had not taken the book. After this my little shopman began to -regard me with more disfavor and suspicion than ever.</p> - -<p>I remembered all this when Larionich went upstairs. He did not stay -there long, and came back more depressed and quiet than usual, but -before supper he said to me privately:</p> - -<p>"I tried to arrange for you to be set free from the shop, and given -over to the workshop, but it was no good. Kouzma would not have it. You -are very much out of favor with him."</p> - -<p>I had an enemy in the house, too—the shopman's fiancée, an -immoderately sportive damsel. All the young fellows in the workshop -played about with her; they used to wait for her in the vestibule and -embrace her. This did not offend her; she only squeaked like a little -dog. She was chewing something from morning to night; her pockets were -always full of gingerbread or buns; her jaws moved ceaselessly. To -look at her vacant face with its restless gray eyes was unpleasant. -She used to ask Pavl and me riddles which always concealed some coarse -obscenity, and repeated catchwords which, being said very quickly, -became improper words.</p> - -<p>One day one of the elderly workmen said to her:</p> - -<p>"You are a shameless hussy, my girl!"</p> - -<p>To which she answered swiftly, in the words of a ribald song:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"If a maiden is too modest,<br /> -She 'll never be a woman worth having."<br /> -</p> - -<p>It was the first time I had ever seen such a girl. She disgusted and -frightened me with her coarse playfulness, and seeing that her antics -were not agreeable to me, she became more and more spiteful toward me.</p> - -<p>Once when Pavl and I were in the cellar helping her to steam out the -casks of kvass and cucumbers she suggested:</p> - -<p>"Would you like me to teach you how to kiss, boys?"</p> - -<p>"I know how to kiss better than you do," Pavl answered, and I told her -to go and kiss her future husband. I did not say it very politely, -either.</p> - -<p>She was angry.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you coarse creature! A young lady makes herself agreeable to him -and he turns up his nose. Well, I never! What a ninny!"</p> - -<p>And she added, shaking a threatening finger at me: "You just wait. I -will remember that of you!" But Pavl said to her, taking my part:</p> - -<p>"Your young man would give you something if he knew about your -behavior!"</p> - -<p>She screwed up her pimply face contemptuously.</p> - -<p>"I am not afraid of him! I have a dowry. I am much better than he is! A -girl only has the time till she is married to amuse herself."</p> - -<p>She began to play about with Pavl, and from that time I found in her an -unwearying calumniator.</p> - -<p>My life in the shop became harder and harder. I read church books all -the time. The disputes and conversations of the valuers had ceased to -amuse me, for they were always talking over the same things in the same -old way. Petr Vassilich alone still interested me, with his knowledge -of the dark side of human life, and his power of speaking interestingly -and enthusiastically. Sometimes I thought he must be the prophet Elias -walking the earth, solitary and vindictive. But each time that I spoke -to the old man frankly about people, or about my own thoughts, he -repeated all that I had said to the shopman, who either ridiculed me -offensively, or abused me angrily.</p> - -<p>One day I told the old man that I sometimes wrote his sayings in the -note-book in which I had copied various poems taken out of books. This -greatly alarmed the valuer, who limped towards me swiftly, asking -anxiously:</p> - -<p>"What did you do that for? It is not worth while, my lad. So that you -may remember? No; you just give it up. What a boy you are! Now you will -give me what you have written, won't you?"</p> - -<p>He tried long and earnestly to persuade me to either give him the -notebook, or to burn it, and then he began to whisper angrily with the -shopman.</p> - -<p>As we were going home, the latter said to me: "You have been taking -notes? That has got to be' stopped! Do you hear? Only detectives do -that sort of thing!"</p> - -<p>Then I asked incautiously:</p> - -<p>"And what about Sitanov? He also takes notes." "Also. That long fool?"</p> - -<p>He was silent for a long time, and then with unusual gentleness he said:</p> - -<p>"Listen; if you show me your note-book and Sitanov's, too, I will give -you half a ruble! Only do it on the quiet, so that Sitanov does not -see."</p> - -<p>No doubt he thought that I would carry out his wish, and without -saying another word, he ran in front of me on his short legs.</p> - -<p>When I reached the house, I told Sitanov what the shopman had proposed -to me. Evgen frowned.</p> - -<p>"You have been chattering purposely. Now he will give some one -instructions to steal both our notebooks. Give me yours—I will hide -it. And he will turn you out before long—you see!"</p> - -<p>I was convinced of that, too, and resolved to leave as soon as -grandmother returned to the town. She had been living at Balakhania -all the winter, invited by some one to teach young girls to make lace. -Grandfather was again living in Kunavin Street, but I did not visit -him, and when he came to the town, he never came to see me. One day -we ran into each other in the street. He was walking along in a heavy -racoon pelisse, importantly and slowly. I said "How do you do" to him. -He lifted his hands to shade his eyes, looked at me from under them, -and then said thoughtfully:</p> - -<p>"Oh, it is you; you are an image-painter now. Yes, yes; all right; get -along with you."</p> - -<p>Pushing me out of his way, he continued his walk, slowly and -importantly.</p> - -<p>I saw grandmother seldom. She worked unweariedly to feed grandfather, -who was suffering from the malady of old age—senile weakness—and had -also taken upon herself the care of my uncle's children.</p> - -<p>The one who caused her the most worry was Sascha, Mikhail's son, a -handsome lad, dreamy and book-loving. He worked in a dyer's shop, -frequently changed his employers, and in the intervals threw himself -on grandmother's shoulders, calmly waiting until she should find him -another place. She had Sascha's sister on her shoulders, too. She had -made an unfortunate marriage with a drunken workman, who beat her and -turned her out of his house.</p> - -<p>Every time I met grandmother, I was more consciously charmed by her -personality; but I felt already that that beautiful soul, blinded -by fanciful tales, was not capable of seeing, could not understand -a revelation of the bitter reality of life, and my disquietude and -restlessness were strange to her.</p> - -<p>"You must have patience, Olesha!"</p> - -<p>This was all she had to say to me in reply to my stories of the hideous -lives, of the tortures of people, of sorrow—of all which perplexed me, -and with which I was burning.</p> - -<p>I was unfitted by nature to be patient, and if occasionally I exhibited -that virtue which belongs to cattle, trees, and stones, I did so in the -cause of self-discipline, to test my reserves of strength, my degree -of stability upon earth. Sometimes young people, with the stupidity of -youth, will keep on trying to lift weights too heavy for their muscles -and bones; will try boastfully, like full-grown men of proved strength, -to cross themselves with heavy weights, envious of the strength of -their elders.</p> - -<p>I also did this in a double sense, physically and spiritually, and it -is only due to some chance that I did not strain myself dangerously, or -deform myself for the rest of my life. Besides, nothing disfigures a -man more terribly than his patience, the submission of his strength to -external conditions.</p> - -<p>And though in the end I shall lie in the earth disfigured, I can say, -not without pride, to my last hour, that good people did their best for -forty years to disfigure my soul, but that their labors were not very -successful.</p> - -<p>The wild desire to play mischievous pranks, to amuse people, to make -them laugh, took more and more hold upon me. I was successful in -this. I could tell stories about the merchants in the market-place, -impersonating them; I could imitate the peasant men and women buying -and selling icons, the shopman skilfully cheating them; the valuers -disputing amongst themselves.</p> - -<p>The workshop resounded with laughter. Often the workmen left their work -to look on at my impersonations, but on all these occasions Larionich -would say:</p> - -<p>"You had better do your acting after supper; otherwise you hinder the -work."</p> - -<p>When I had finished my performance I felt myself easier, as if I had -thrown off a burden which weighed upon me. For half an hour or an hour -my head felt pleasantly clear, but soon it felt again as if it were -full of sharp, small nails, which moved about and grew hot. It seemed -to me that a sort of dirty porridge was boiling around me, and that I -was being gradually boiled away in it.</p> - -<p>I wondered: Was life really like this? And should I have to live as -these people lived, never finding, never seeing anything better?</p> - -<p>"You are growing sulky, Maximich," said Jikharev, looking at me -attentively.</p> - -<p>Sitanov often asked me:</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you?"</p> - -<p>And I could not answer him.</p> - -<p>Life perseveringly and roughly washed out from my soul its most -delicate writings, maliciously changing them into some sort of -indistinct trash, and with anger and determination I resisted its -violence. I was floating on the same river as all the others, only for -me the waters were colder and did not support me as easily as it did -the others. Sometimes it seemed to me that I was gently sinking into -unfathomable depths.</p> - -<p>People behaved better to me; they did not shout at me as they did -at Pavl, nor harass me; they called me by my patronymic in order to -emphasize their more respectful attitude toward me. This was good; but -it was torturing to see how many of them drank vodka, how disgustingly -drunk they became, and how injurious to them were their relations -with women, although I understood that vodka and women were the only -diversions that life afforded.</p> - -<p>I often called to mind with sorrow that that most intelligent, -courageous woman, Natalia Kozlovski, was also called a woman of -pleasure. And what about grandmother? And Queen Margot?</p> - -<p>I used to think of my queen with a feeling almost of terror; she was so -removed from all the others, it was as if I had seen her in a dream.</p> - -<p>I began to think too much about women, and I had already revolved in -my own mind the question: Shall I go on the next holiday where all -the others go? This was no physical desire. I was both healthy and -fastidious, but at times I was almost mad with a desire to embrace some -one tender, intelligent, and frankly, unrestrainedly, as to a mother, -speak to her of the disturbances of my soul.</p> - -<p>I envied Pavl when he told me at night of his affair with a maidservant -in the opposite house.</p> - -<p>"It is a funny thing, brother! A month ago I was throwing snowballs at -her because I did not like her, and now I sit on a bench and hug her. -She is dearer to me than any one!"</p> - -<p>"What do you talk about?"</p> - -<p>"About everything, of course! She talks to me about herself, and I talk -to her about myself. And then we kiss—only she is honest. In fact, -brother, she is so good that it is almost a misfortune! Why, you smoke -like an old soldier!"</p> - -<p>I smoked a lot; tobacco intoxicated me, dulled my restless thoughts, -my agitated feelings. As for vodka, it only aroused in me a repulsion -toward my own odor and taste, but Pavl drank with a will, and when he -was drunk, used to cry bitterly:</p> - -<p>"I want to go home, I want to go home! Let me go home!"</p> - -<p>As far as I can remember he was an orphan; his mother and father had -been dead a long time. Brother and sister he had none; he had lived -among strangers for eight years.</p> - -<p>In this state of restless dissatisfaction the call of spring disturbed -me still more. I made up my mind to go on a boat again, and if I could -get as far as Astrakhan, to run away to Persia.</p> - -<p>I do not remember why I selected Persia particularly. It may have been -because I had taken a great fancy to the Persian merchants on the -Nijigorodski market-place, sitting like stone idols, spreading their -dyed beards in the sun, calmly smoking their hookas, with large, dark, -omniscient eyes.</p> - -<p>There is no doubt that I should have run away somewhere, but one day -in Easter week, when part of the occupants of the workshop had gone to -their homes, and the rest were drinking, I was walking on a sunny day -on the banks of the Oka, when I met my old master, grandmother's nephew.</p> - -<p>He was walking along in a light gray overcoat, with his hands in his -pockets, a cigarette between his teeth, his hat on the back of his -head. His pleasant face smiled kindly at me. He had the appearance -of a man who is at liberty and is happy, and there was no one beside -ourselves in the fields.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Pyeshkov, Christ is risen!"</p> - -<p>After we had exchanged the Easter kiss, he asked how I was living, -and I told him frankly that the workshop, the town and everything in -general were abhorrent to me, and that I had made up my mind to go to -Persia.</p> - -<p>"Give it up," he said to me gravely. "What the devil is there in -Persia? I know exactly how you are feeling, brother; in my youth I also -had the wander fever."</p> - -<p>I liked him for telling me this. There was something about him good and -springlike; he was a being set apart.</p> - -<p>"Do you smoke?" he asked, holding out a silver cigarette-case full of -fat cigarettes.</p> - -<p>That completed his conquest of me.</p> - -<p>"What you had better do, Pyeshkov, is to come back to me again," he -suggested. "For this year I have undertaken contracts for the new -market-place, you understand. And I can make use of you there; you -will be a kind of overseer for me; you will receive all the material; -you will see that it is all in its proper place, and that the workmen -do not steal it. Will that suit you? Your wages will be five rubles a -month, and five copecks for dinner! The women-folk will have nothing to -do with you; you will go out in the morning and return in the evening. -As for the women; you can ignore them; only don't let them know that we -have met, but just come to see us on Sunday at Phomin Street. It will -be a change for you!"</p> - -<p>We parted like friends. As he said good-by, he pressed my hand, and as -he went away, he actually waved his hat to me affably from a distance.</p> - -<p>When I announced in the workroom that I was leaving, most of the -workmen showed a flattering regret. Pavl, especially, was upset.</p> - -<p>"Think," he said reproachfully; "how will you live with men of all -kinds, after being with us? With carpenters, house-painters—Oh, -you—It is going out of the frying-pan into the fire."</p> - -<p>Jikharev growled:</p> - -<p>"A fish looks for the deepest place, but a clever young man seeks a -worse place!"</p> - -<p>The send-off which they gave me from the workshop was a sad one.</p> - -<p>"Of course one must try this and that," said Jikharev, who was yellow -from the effects of a drinking bout. "It is better to do it straight -off, before you become too closely attached to something or other."</p> - -<p>"And that for the rest of your life," added Larionich softly.</p> - -<p>But I felt that they spoke with constraint, and from a sense of duty. -The thread which had bound me to them was somehow rotted and broken.</p> - -<p>In the loft drunken Golovev rolled about, and muttered hoarsely:</p> - -<p>"I would like to see them all in prison. I know their secrets! Who -believes in God here? Aha-a—!"</p> - -<p>As usual, faceless, uncompleted icons were propped against the wall; -the glass balls were fixed to the ceiling. It was long since we had -had to work with a light, and the balls, not being used, were covered -with a gray coating of soot and dust. I remember the surroundings so -vividly that if I shut my eyes, I can see in the darkness the whole -of that basement room: all the tables, and the jars of paint on the -windowsills, the bundles of brushes, the icons, the slop-pail under -the brass washstand-basin which looked like a fireman's helmet, and, -hanging from the ceiling, Golovev's bare foot, which was blue like the -foot of a drowned man.</p> - -<p>I wanted to get away quickly, but in Russia they love long-drawn-out, -sad moments. When they are saying good-by, Russian people behave as if -they were hearing a requiem mass.</p> - -<p>Jikharev, twitching his brows, said to me:</p> - -<p>"That book—the devil's book—I can't give it back to you. Will you -take two <i>greven</i> for it?"</p> - -<p>The book was my own,—the old second lieutenant of the fire-brigade had -given it to me—and I grudged giving Lermontov away. But when, somewhat -offended, I refused the money, Jikharev calmly put the coins back in -his purse, and said in an unwavering tone:</p> - -<p>"As you like; but I shall not give you back the book. It is not for -you. A book like that would soon lead you into sin."</p> - -<p>"But it is sold in shops; I have seen it!"</p> - -<p>But he only said with redoubled determination:</p> - -<p>"That has nothing to do with the matter; they sell revolvers in shops, -too—"</p> - -<p>So he never returned Lermontov to me.</p> - -<p>As I was going upstairs to say good-by to my mistress, I ran into her -niece in the hall.</p> - -<p>"Is it true what they say—that you are leaving?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"If you had not gone of your own accord, you would have been sent -away," she assured me, not very kindly, but with perfect frankness.</p> - -<p>And the tipsy mistress said:</p> - -<p>"Good-by, Christ be with you! You are a bad boy, an impudent boy; -although I have never seen anything bad in you myself, they all say -that you are a bad boy!" And suddenly she burst out crying, and said -through her tears:</p> - -<p>"Ah, if my dead one, my sweet husband, dear soul, had been alive, he -would have known how to deal with you; he would have boxed your ears -and you would have stayed on. We should not have had to send you away! -But nowadays things are different; if all is not exactly as you like, -away you go! Och! And where will you be going, boy, and what good will -it do you to stroll from place to place?"</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></h5> - - -<p>I was in a boat with my master, passing along the market-place between -shops which were flooded to the height of the second story. I plied -the oars, while my master sat in the stern. The paddle wheel, which -was useless as a rudder, was deep in the water, and the boat veered -about awkwardly, meandering from street to street on the quiet, muddily -sleepy waters.</p> - -<p>"Ekh! The water gets higher and higher. The devil take it! It is -keeping the work back," grumbled my master as he smoked a cigar, the -smoke of which had an odor of burning cloth. "Gently!" he cried in -alarm, "we are running into a lamp-post!"</p> - -<p>He steered the boat out of danger and scolded me: "They have given me a -boat, the wretches!"</p> - -<p>He showed me the spot on which, after the water had subsided, the work -of rebuilding would begin. With his face shaved to a bluish tint, -his mustache clipped short, and a cigar in his mouth, he did not -look like a contractor. He wore a leathern jacket, high boots to his -knees, and a game-bag was slung over his shoulders. At his feet was an -expensive two-barelled gun, manufactured by Lebed. From time to time he -restlessly changed the position of his leathern cap, pulling it over -his eyes, pouting his lips and looking cautiously around. He pushed the -cap to the back of his head, looked younger, and smiled beneath his -mustache, thinking of something pleasant. No one would have thought -that he had a lot of work to do, and that the long time the water took -in subsiding worried him. Evidently thoughts wholly unconnected with -business were passing through his mind.</p> - -<p>And I was overwhelmed by a feeling of quiet amazement; it seemed so -strange to look upon that dead town, the straight rows of buildings -with closed windows. The town was simply flooded with water, and seemed -to be floating past our boat. The sky was gray. The sun had been lost -in the clouds, but sometimes shone through them in large, silver, -wintry patches.</p> - -<p>The water also was gray and cold; its flow was unnoticeable; it seemed -to be congealed, fixed to one place, like the empty houses beside the -shops, which were painted a dirty yellow. When the pale sun looked -through the clouds, all around grew slightly brighter. The water -reflected the gray texture of the sky; our boat seemed to hang in the -air between two skies; the stone buildings also lifted themselves up, -and with a scarcely perceptible movement floated toward the Volga, or -the Oka. Around the boat were broken casks, boxes, baskets, fragments -of wood and straw; sometimes a rod or joist of wood floated like a dead -snake on the surface.</p> - -<p>Here and there windows were opened. On the roofs of the rows of -galleries linen was drying, or felt boots stuck out. A woman looked -out of a window onto the gray waters. A boat was moored to the top of -the cast-iron columns of a galley; her red deck made the reflection of -the water look greasy and meat-like.</p> - -<p>Nodding his head at these signs of life, my master explained to me:</p> - -<p>"This is where the market watchman lives. He climbs out of the window -onto the roof, gets into his boat, and goes out to see if there are any -thieves about. And if there are none, he thieves on his own account."</p> - -<p>He spoke lazily, calmly, thinking of something else. All around was -quiet, deserted, and unreal, as if it were part of a dream. The Volga -and the Oka flowed into an enormous lake; in the distance on a rugged -hillside the town was painted in motley colors. Gardens were still -somberly clothed, but the buds were bursting on the trees, and foliage -clad houses and churches in a warm, green mantle. Over the water crept -the muffled sound of the Easter-tide bells. The murmur of the town was -audible, while here it was just like a forgotten graveyard.</p> - -<p>Our boat wended its way between two rows of black trees; we were on the -high road to the old cathedral. The cigar was in my master's way; its -acrid smoke got into his eyes and caused him to run the nose of the -boat into the trunks of the trees. Upon which he cried, irritably and -in surprise:</p> - -<p>"What a rotten boat this is!"</p> - -<p>"But you are not steering it."</p> - -<p>"How can I?" he grumbled. "When there are two people in a boat, one -always rows while the other steers. There—look! There's the Chinese -block."</p> - -<p>I knew the market through and through; I knew that comical-looking -block of buildings with the ridiculous roofs on which sat, with crossed -legs, figures of Chinamen in plaster of Paris. There had been a time -when I and my playfellow had thrown stones at them, and some of the -Chinamen had had their heads and hands broken off by me. But I no -longer took any pride in that sort of thing.</p> - -<p>"Rubbish!" said my master, pointing to the block. "If I had been -allowed to build it—"</p> - -<p>He whistled and pushed his cap to the back of his head.</p> - -<p>But somehow I thought that he would have built that town of stone just -as dingily, on that low-lying ground which was flooded by the waters -of two rivers every year. And he would even have invented the Chinese -block.</p> - -<p>Throwing his cigar over the side of the boat, he spat after it in -disgust, saying:</p> - -<p>"Life is very dull, Pyeshkov, very dull. There are no educated -people—no one to talk to. If one wants to show off one's gifts, who is -there to be impressed? Not a soul! All the people here are carpenters, -stonemasons, peasants—"</p> - -<p>He looked straight ahead at the white mosque which rose picturesquely -out of the water on a small hill, and continued as if he were -recollecting something he had forgotten:</p> - -<p>"I began to drink beer and smoke cigars when I was working under a -German. The Germans, my brother, are a business-like race—such wild -fowl! Drinking beer is a pleasant occupation, but I have never got -used to smoking cigars. And when you 've been smoking, your wife -grumbles: 'What is it that you smell of? It is like the smell at the -harness-makers.' Ah, brother, the longer we live, the more artful we -grow. Well, well, true to oneself—"</p> - -<p>Placing the oar against the side of the boat, he took up his gun and -shot at a Chinaman on a roof. No harm came to the latter; the shot -buried itself in the roof and the wall, raising a dusty smoke.</p> - -<p>"That was a miss," he admitted without regret, and he again loaded his -gun.</p> - -<p>"How do you get on with the girls? Are you keen on them? No? Why, I was -in love when I was only thirteen."</p> - -<p>He told me, as if he were telling a dream, the story of his first love -for the housemaid of the architect to whom he had been apprenticed. -Softly splashed the gray water, washing the corners of the buildings; -beyond the cathedral dully gleamed a watery waste; black twigs rose -here and there above it. In the icon-painter's workshop they often sang -the Seminarski song:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"O blue sea,<br /> -Stormy sea...."<br /> -</p> - -<p>That blue sea must have been deadly dull.</p> - -<p>"I never slept at nights," went on my master. "Sometimes I got out of -bed and stood at her door, shivering like a dog. It was a cold house! -The master visited her at night. He might have discovered me, but I was -not afraid, not I!"</p> - -<p>He spoke thoughtfully, like a person looking at an old worn-out coat, -and wondering if he could wear it once more.</p> - -<p>"She noticed me, pitied me, unfastened her door, and called me: 'Come -in, you little fool.'"</p> - -<p>I had heard many stories of this kind, and they bored me, although -there was one pleasing feature about them—almost every one spoke of -their "first love" without boasting, or obscenity, and often so gently -and sadly that I understood that the story of their first love was the -best in their lives.</p> - -<p>Laughing and shaking his head, my master exclaimed wonderingly:</p> - -<p>"But that's the sort of thing you don't tell your wife; no, no! Well, -there's no harm in it, but you never tell. That's a story—"</p> - -<p>He was telling the story to himself, not to me. If he had been silent, -I should have spoken. In that quietness and desolation one had to talk, -or sing, or play on the harmonica, or one would fall into a heavy, -eternal sleep in the midst of that dead town, drowned in gray, cold -water.</p> - -<p>"In the first place, don't marry too soon," he counseled me. "Marriage, -brother, is a matter of the most stupendous importance. You can live -where you like and how you like, according to your will. You can live -in Persia as a Mahommedan; in Moscow as a man about town. You can -arrange your life as you choose. You can give everything a trial. But a -wife, brother, is like the weather—you can never rule her! You can't -take a wife and throw her aside like an old boot."</p> - -<p>His face changed. He gazed into the gray water with knitted brows, -rubbing his prominent nose with his fingers, and muttered:</p> - -<p>"Yes, brother, look before you leap. Let us suppose that you are beset -on all sides, and still continue to stand firm; even then there is a -special trap laid for each one of us."</p> - -<p>We were now amongst the vegetation in the lake of Meshtcherski, which -was fed by the Volga.</p> - -<p>"Row softly," whispered my master, pointing his gun into the bushes. -After he had shot a few lean woodcocks, he suggested:</p> - -<p>"Let us go to Kunavin Street. I will spend the evening there, and you -can go home and say that I am detained by the contractors."</p> - -<p>Setting him down at one of the streets on the outskirts of the -town, which was also flooded, I returned to the market-place on the -Stravelka, moored the boat, and sitting in it, gazed at the confluence -of the two rivers, at the town, the steamboats, the sky, which was -just like the gorgeous wing of some gigantic bird, all white feathery -clouds. The golden sun peeped through the blue gaps between the clouds, -and with one glance at the earth transfigured everything thereon. -Brisk, determined movement went on all around me: the swift current of -the rivers lightly bore innumerable planks of wood; on these planks -bearded peasants stood firmly, wielding long poles and shouting to one -another, or to approaching steamers. A little steamer was pulling an -empty barge against the stream. The river dragged at it, and shook it. -It turned its nose round like a pike and panted, firmly setting its -wheels against the water, which was rushing furiously to meet it. On a -barge with their legs hanging over the side sat four peasants, shoulder -to shoulder. One of them wore a red shirt, and sang a song the words of -which I could not hear, but I knew it.</p> - -<p>I felt that here on the living river I knew all, was in touch with -all, and could understand all; and the town which lay flooded behind -me was an evil dream, an imagination of my master's, as difficult to -understand as he was himself.</p> - -<p>When I had satiated myself by gazing at all there was to see, I -returned home, feeling that I was a grown man, capable of any kind of -work. On the way I looked from the hill of the Kreml on to the Volga in -the distance. From the hill, the earth appeared enormous, and promised -all that one could possibly desire.</p> - -<p>I had books at home. In the flat which Queen Margot had occupied -there now lived a large family,—five young ladies, each one more -beautiful than the others, and two schoolboys—and these people used -to give me books. I read Turgenieff with avidity, amazed to find how -intelligible, simple, and pellucid as autumn he was; how pure were -his characters, and how good everything was about which he succinctly -discoursed. I read Pomyalovski's "Bourse" and was again amazed; it was -so strangely like the life in the icon-painting workshop. I was so well -acquainted with that desperate tedium which precipitated one into cruel -pranks. I enjoyed reading Russian books. I always felt that there was -something about them familiar and melancholy, as if there were hidden -in their pages the frozen sound of the Lenten bell, which pealed forth -softly as soon as one opened a book.</p> - -<p>"Dead Souls" I read reluctantly; "Letters from the House of the -Dead," also. "Dead Souls," "Dead Houses," "Three Deaths," "Living -Relics"—these books with titles so much alike arrested my attention -against my will, and aroused a lethargic repugnance for all such books. -"Signs of the Times," "Step by Step," "What to Do," and "Chronicles -of the Village of Smourin," I did not care for, nor any other books -of the same kind. But I was delighted with Dickens and Walter Scott. -I read these authors with the greatest enjoyment, the same books over -and over again. The works of Walter Scott reminded me of a high mass -on a great feast day in rich churches—somewhat long and tedious, but -always solemn. Dickens still remains to me as the author to whom I -respectfully bow; he was a man who had a wonderful apprehension of that -most difficult of arts—love of human nature.</p> - -<p>In the evenings a large company of people used to gather on the roof: -the brothers K. and their sisters, grown up; the snub-nosed schoolboy, -Vyacheslav Semashko; and sometimes Miss Ptitzin, the daughter of an -important official, appeared there, too. They talked of books and -poetry. This was something which appealed to me, and which I could -understand; I had read more than all of them together. But sometimes -they talked about the high school, and complained about the teachers. -When I listened to these recitals, I felt that I had more liberty than -my friends, and was amazed at their patience. And yet I envied them; -they had opportunities of learning!</p> - -<p>My comrades were older than I, but I felt that I was the elder. I was -keener-witted, more experienced than they. This worried me somewhat; -I wanted to feel more in touch with them. I used to get home late in -the evening, dusty and dirty, steeped in impressions very different -from theirs—in the main very monotonous. They talked a lot about young -ladies, and of being in love with this one and that one, and they used -to try their hands at writing poetry. They frequently solicited my help -in this matter. I willingly applied myself to versification, and it was -easy for me to find the rhymes, but for some reason or other my verses -always took a humorous turn, and I never could help associating Miss -Ptitzin, to whom the poetry was generally dedicated, with fruits and -vegetables.</p> - -<p>Semashko said to me:</p> - -<p>"Do you call that poetry? It is as much like poetry as hobnails would -be."</p> - -<p>Not wishing to be behind them in anything, I also fell in love with -Miss Ptitzin. I do not remember how I declared my feelings, but I -know that the affair ended badly. On the stagnant green water of the -Zvyezdin Pond floated a plank, and I proposed to give the young lady a -ride on it. She agreed. I brought the log to the bank; it held me alone -quite well. But when the gorgeously dressed young lady, all ribbons and -lace, graciously stepped on the other end, and I proudly pushed off -with a stick, the accursed log rolled away from under us and my young -lady went head over heels into the water.</p> - -<p>I threw myself in knightly fashion after her, and swiftly brought her -to shore. Fright and the green mire of the pond had quite destroyed her -beauty! Shaking her wet fist at me threateningly, she cried:</p> - -<p>"You threw me in the water on purpose!"</p> - -<p>And refusing to believe in the sincerity of my protestations, from that -time she treated me as an enemy.</p> - -<p>On the whole, I did not find living in the town very interesting. -My old mistress was as hostile as she had ever been; the young one -regarded me with contempt; Victorushka more freckled than ever, snorted -at every one, and was everlastingly aggrieved about something.</p> - -<p>My master had many plans to draw. He could not get through all the work -with his brother, and so he engaged my stepfather as assistant.</p> - -<p>One day I came home from the market-place early, about five o'clock, -and going into the dining-room, saw the man whose existence I had -forgotten, at the table beside the master. He held his hand out to me.</p> - -<p>"How do you do?"</p> - -<p>I drew back at the unexpectedness of it. The fire of the past had been -suddenly rekindled, and burned my heart.</p> - -<p>My stepfather looked at me with a smile on his terribly emaciated face; -his dark eyes were larger than ever. He looked altogether worn out and -depressed. I placed my hand in his thin, hot fingers.</p> - -<p>"Well, so we 've met again," he said, coughing.</p> - -<p>I left them, feeling as weak as if I had been beaten.</p> - -<p>Our manner to each other was cautious and restrained; he called me by -my first name and my patronymic, and spoke to me as an equal.</p> - -<p>"When you go to the shops, please buy me a quarter of a pound of -Lapherm's tobacco, a hundred packets of Vitcorson's, and a pound of -boiled sausage."</p> - -<p>The money which he gave me was always unpleasantly heated by his hot -hands. It was plain that he was a consumptive, and not long to be an -inhabitant of this earth. He knew this, and would say in a calm, deep -voice, twisting his pointed black beard:</p> - -<p>"My illness is almost incurable. However, if I take plenty of meat I -may get better—I may get better."</p> - -<p>He ate an unbelievably large amount; he smoked cigarettes, which -were only out of his lips when he was eating. Every day I bought him -sausages, ham, sardines, but grandmother's sister said with an air of -certainty, and for some reason maliciously:</p> - -<p>"It is no use to feed Death with dainties; you cannot deceive him."</p> - -<p>The mistress regarded my stepfather with an air of injury, -reproachfully advised him to try this or that medicine, but made fun of -him behind his back.</p> - -<p>"A fine gentleman? The crumbs ought to be swept up more often in the -dining-room, he says; crumbs cause the flies to multiply, he says."</p> - -<p>The young mistress said this, and the old mistress repeated after her:</p> - -<p>"What do you mean—a fine gentleman! With his coat all worn and shiny, -and he always scraping it with a clothes-brush. He is so faddy; there -must not be a speck of dust on it!"</p> - -<p>But the master spoke soothingly to them:</p> - -<p>"Be patient, wild fowl, he will soon be dead!" This senseless hostility -of the middle class toward a man of good birth somehow drew me and -my stepfather closer together. The crimson agaric is an unwholesome -fungus, yet it is so beautiful. Suffocated among these people, my -stepfather was like a fish which had accidentally fallen into a -fowl-run—an absurd comparison, as everything in that life was absurd.</p> - -<p>I began to find in him resemblances to "Good Business"—a man whom I -could never forget. I adorned him and my Queen with the best that I -got out of books. I gave them all that was most pure in me, all the -fantasies born of my reading. My stepfather was just such another -man, aloof and unloved, as "Good Business." He behaved alike to every -one in the house, never spoke first, and answered questions put to him -with a peculiar politeness and brevity. I was delighted when he taught -my masters. Standing at the table, bent double, he would tap the thick -paper with his dry nails, and suggest calmly:</p> - -<p>"Here you will have to have a keystone. That will halve the force of -the pressure; otherwise the pillar will crash through the walls."</p> - -<p>"That's true, the devil take it," muttered the master, and his wife -said to him, when my stepfather had gone out:</p> - -<p>"It is simply amazing to me that you can allow any one to teach you -your business like that!"</p> - -<p>For some reason she was always especially irritated when my stepfather -cleaned his teeth and gargled after supper, protruding his harshly -outlined Adam's apple.</p> - -<p>"In my opinion," she would say in a sour voice, "it is injurious to you -to bend your head back like that, Evgen Vassilvich!"</p> - -<p>Smiling politely he asked:</p> - -<p>"Why?'</p> - -<p>"Because—I am sure it is."</p> - -<p>He began to clean his bluish nails with a tiny bone stick.</p> - -<p>"He is cleaning his nails again; well, I never!" exclaimed the -mistress. "He is dying—and there he is."</p> - -<p>"Ekh!" sighed the master. "What a lot of stupidity has flourished in -you, wild fowl!"</p> - -<p>"Why do you say that?" asked his wife, confused. But the old mistress -complained passionately to God at night:</p> - -<p>"Lord, they have laid that rotten creature on my shoulders, and Victor -is again pushed on one side." Victorushka began to mock the manners of -my stepfather,—his leisurely walk, the assured movements of his lordly -hands, his skill in tying a cravat, and his dainty way of eating. He -would ask coarsely: "Maximov, what's the French for 'knee'?"</p> - -<p>"I am called Evgen Vassilevich," my stepfather reminded him calmly.</p> - -<p>"All right. Well, what is 'the chest'?"</p> - -<p>Victorushka would say to his mother at supper: "Ma mère, donnez moi -encore du pickles!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, you Frenchman!" the old woman would say, much affected.</p> - -<p>My stepfather, as unmoved as if he were deaf or dumb, chewed his meat -without looking at any one. One day the elder brother said to the -younger: "Now that you are learning French, Victor, you ought to have a -mistress."</p> - -<p>This was the only time I remember seeing my stepfather smile quietly.</p> - -<p>But the young mistress let her spoon fall on the table in her -agitation, and cried to her husband:</p> - -<p>"Are n't you ashamed to talk so disgustingly before me?"</p> - -<p>Sometimes my stepfather came to me in the dark vestibule, where I -slept under the stairs which led to the attic, and where, sitting on -the stairs by the window, I used to read.</p> - -<p>"Reading?" he would say, blowing out smoke. There came a hissing sound -from his chest like the hissing of a fire-stick. "What is the book?"</p> - -<p>I showed it to him.</p> - -<p>"Ah," he said, glancing at the title, "I think I have read it. Will you -smoke?"</p> - -<p>We smoked, looking out of the window onto the dirty yard. He said:</p> - -<p>"It is a great pity that you cannot study; it seems to me that you have -ability."</p> - -<p>"I am studying; I read."</p> - -<p>"That is not enough; you need a school; a system." I felt inclined to -say to him:</p> - -<p>"You had the advantages of both school and system, my fine fellow, and -what is the result?"</p> - -<p>But he added, as if he had read my thoughts: "Given the proper -disposition, a school is a good educator. Only very well educated -people make any mark in life."</p> - -<p>But once he counseled me:</p> - -<p>"You would be far better away from here. I see no sense or advantage to -you in staying."</p> - -<p>"I like the work."</p> - -<p>"Ah—what do you find to like?"</p> - -<p>"I find it interesting to work with them."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps you are right."</p> - -<p>But one day he said:</p> - -<p>"What trash they are in the main, our employers—trash!"</p> - -<p>When I remembered how and when my mother had uttered that word, I -involuntarily drew back from him. He asked, smiling:</p> - -<p>"Don't you think so?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Well, they are; I can see that."</p> - -<p>"But I like the master, anyhow."</p> - -<p>"Yes, you are right; he is a worthy man, but strange."</p> - -<p>I should have liked to talk with him about books, but it was plain that -he did not care for them, and one day he advised me:</p> - -<p>"Don't be led away; everything is very much embellished in books, -distorted one way or another. Most writers of books are people like our -master, small people."</p> - -<p>Such judgments seemed very daring to me, and quite corrupted me.</p> - -<p>On the same occasion he asked me:</p> - -<p>"Have you read any of Goncharov's works?"</p> - -<p>'The Frigate Palada.'"</p> - -<p>"That's a dull book. But really, Goncharov is the cleverest writer in -Russia. I advise you to read his novel, 'Oblomov.' That is by far the -truest and most daring book he wrote; in fact, it is the best book in -Russian literature."</p> - -<p>Of Dickens' works he said:</p> - -<p>"They are rubbish, I assure you. But there is a most interesting thing -running in the 'Nova Vremya,'-'The Temptation of St. Anthony.' You -read it? Apparently you like all that pertains to the church, and 'The -Temptation' ought to be a profitable subject for you."</p> - -<p>He brought me a bundle of papers containing the serial, and I read -Flaubert's learned work. It reminded me of the innumerable lives of -holy men, scraps of history told by the valuers, but it made no very -deep impression on me. I much preferred the "Memoirs of Upilio Faimali, -Tamer of Wild Beasts," which was printed alongside of it.</p> - -<p>When I acknowledged this fact to my stepfather, he remarked coolly:</p> - -<p>"That means that you are still too young to read such things? However, -don't forget about that book."</p> - -<p>Sometimes he would sit with me for a long time without saying a word, -just coughing and puffing out smoke continuously. His beautiful eyes -burned painfully, and I looked at him furtively, and forgot that this -man, who was dying so honestly and simply, without complaint, had once -been so closely related to my mother, and had insulted her. I knew that -he lived with some sort of seamstress, and thought of her with wonder -and pity. How could she not shrink from embracing those lanky bones, -from kissing that mouth which gave forth such an oppressive odor of -putrescence? Just like "Good Business," my stepfather often uttered -peculiarly characteristic sayings:</p> - -<p>"I love hounds; they are stupid, but I love them. They are very -beautiful. Beautiful women are often stupid, too."</p> - -<p>I thought, not without pride:</p> - -<p>"Ah, if he had only known Queen Margot!"</p> - -<p>"People who live for a long time in the same house all have the -same kind of face," was one of his sayings which I wrote down in my -note-book.</p> - -<p>I listened for these sayings of his, as if they had been treats. It was -pleasant to hear unusual, literary words used in a house where every -one spoke a colorless language, which had hardened into well-worn, -undiversified forms. My stepfather never spoke to me of my mother; -he never even uttered her name. This pleased me, and aroused in me a -feeling of sympathetic consideration for him.</p> - -<p>Once I asked him about God—I do not remember what brought up the -subject. He looked at me, and said very calmly:</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I don't believe in God."</p> - -<p>I remembered Sitanov, and told my stepfather about him. Having listened -attentively to me, he observed, still calmly:</p> - -<p>"He was in doubt; and those who are in doubt must believe in something. -As for me, I simply do not believe——"</p> - -<p>"But is that possible?"</p> - -<p>"Why not? You can see for yourself I don't believe."</p> - -<p>I saw nothing, except that he was dying. I hardly pitied him; my first -feeling was one of keen and genuine interest in the nearness of a dying -person, in the mystery of death.</p> - -<p>Here was a man sitting close to me, his knee touching mine, warm, -sensate, calmly regarding people in the light of their relations to -himself; speaking about everything like a person who possessed power to -judge and to settle affairs; in whom lay something necessary to me, or -something good, blended with something unnecessary to me. This being of -incomprehensible complexity was the receptacle of continuous whirlwinds -of thought. It was not as if I were merely brought in contact with him, -but it seemed as if he were part of myself, that he lived somewhere -within me. I thought about him continually, and the shadow of his soul -lay across mine. And to-morrow he would disappear entirely, with all -that was hidden in his head and his heart, with all that I seemed to -read in his beautiful eyes. When he went, another of the living threads -which bound me to life would be snapped. His memory would be left, but -that would be something finite within me, forever limited, immutable. -But that which is alive changes, progresses. But these were thoughts, -and behind them lay those inexpressible words which give birth to and -nourish them, which strike to the very roots of life, demanding an -answer to the question, Why?</p> - -<p>"I shall soon have to lie by, it seems to me," said my stepfather -one rainy day. "This stupid weakness! I don't feel inclined to do -anything."</p> - -<p>The next day, at the time of evening tea, he brushed the crumbs of -bread from the table and from his knees with peculiar care, and brushed -something invisible from his person. The old mistress, looking at him -from under her brows, whispered to her daughter-in-law:</p> - -<p>"Look at the way he is plucking at himself, and brushing himself."</p> - -<p>He did not come to work for two days, and then the old mistress put a -large white envelope in my hand, saying:</p> - -<p>"Here you are! A woman brought this yesterday about noon, and I forgot -to give it to you. A pretty little woman she was, but what she wants -with you I can't imagine, and that's the truth!"</p> - -<p>On a slip of paper with a hospital stamp, inside the envelope, was -written in large characters:</p> - -<p>"When you have an hour to spare, come and see me. I am in the -Martinovski Hospital. "E. M."</p> - -<p>The next morning I was sitting in a hospital ward on my stepfather's -bed. It was a long bed, and his feet, in gray, worn socks, stuck out -through the rails. His beautiful eyes, dully wandering over the yellow -walls, rested on my face and on the small hands of a young girl who sat -on a bench at the head of the bed. Her hands rested on the pillow, and -my stepfather rubbed his cheek against them, his mouth hanging open. -She was a plump girl, wearing a shiny, dark frock. The tears flowed -slowly over her oval face; her wet blue eyes never moved from my -stepfather's face, with its sharp bones, large, sharp-pointed nose, and -dark mouth.</p> - -<p>"The priest ought to be here," she whispered, "but he forbids it—he -does not understand." And taking her hands from the pillow, she pressed -them to her breast as if praying.</p> - -<p>In a minute my stepfather came to himself, looked at the ceiling and -frowned, as if he were trying to remember something. Then he stretched -his lank hand toward me.</p> - -<p>"You? Thank you. Here I am, you see. I feel to stupid."</p> - -<p>The effort tired him; he closed his eyes. I stroked his long cold -fingers with the blue nails. The girl asked softly:</p> - -<p>"Evgen Vassilvich, introduce us, please!"</p> - -<p>"You must know each other," he said, indicating her with his eyes. "A -dear creature—"</p> - -<p>He stopped speaking, his mouth opened wider and wider, and he suddenly -shrieked out hoarsely, like a raven. Throwing herself on the bed, -clutching at the blanket, waving her bare arms about, the girl also -screamed, burying her head in the tossed pillow.</p> - -<p>My stepfather died quickly, and as soon as he was dead, he regained -some of his good looks. I left the hospital with the girl on my arm. -She staggered like a sick person, and cried. Her handkerchief was -squeezed into a ball in her hand; she alternately applied it to her -eyes, and rolling it tighter, gazed at it as if it were her last and -most precious possession.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she stood still, pressing close to me, and said:</p> - -<p>"I shall not live till the winter. Oh Lord, Lord! What does it mean?"</p> - -<p>Then holding out her hand, wet with tears, to me: "Good-by. He thought -a lot of you. He will be buried to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Shall I see you home?"</p> - -<p>She looked about her.</p> - -<p>"What for? It is daytime, not night."</p> - -<p>From the corner of a side street I looked after her. She walked slowly, -like a person who has nothing to hurry for. It was August. The leaves -were already beginning to fall from the trees. I had no time to follow -my stepfather to the graveyard, and I never saw the girl again.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></h5> - - -<p>Every morning at six o'clock I set out to my work in the market-place. -I met interesting people there. There was the carpenter, Osip, a -grayhaired man who looked like Saint Nikolai, a clever workman, -and witty; there was the humpbacked slater, Ephimushka, the pious -bricklayer, Petr, a thoughtful man who also reminded me of a saint; the -plasterer, Gregory Shishlin, a flaxen-bearded, blue-eyed, handsome man, -beaming with quiet good-nature.</p> - -<p>I had come to know these people during the second part of my life -at the draughtsman's house. Every Sunday they used to appear in the -kitchen, grave, important-looking, with pleasant speech, and with words -which had a new flavor for me. All these solid-looking peasants had -seemed to me then to be easy to read, good through and through, all -pleasantly different from the spiteful, thieving, drunken inhabitants -of the Kunavin and its environs.</p> - -<p>The plasterer, Shishlin, pleased me most of all, and I actually asked -if I might join his gang of workmen. But scratching his golden brow -with a white finger, he gently refused to have me.</p> - -<p>"It is too soon for you," he said. "Our work is not easy; wait another -year."</p> - -<p>Then throwing up his handsome head, he asked:</p> - -<p>"You don't like the way you are living? Never mind, have patience; -learn to live a life of your own, and then you will be able to bear it!"</p> - -<p>I do not know all that I gained from this good advice, but I remember -it gratefully.</p> - -<p>These people used to come to my master's house every Sunday morning, -sit on benches round th? kitchen-table, and talk of interesting things -while they waited for my master. When he came, he greeted them loudly -and gayly, shaking-their strong hands, and then sat down in the chief -corner. They produced their accounts and bundles of notes, the workmen -placed their tattered account-books on the table, and the reckoning up -for the week began.</p> - -<p>Joking and bantering, the master would try to prove them wrong in their -reckoning, and they did the same to him. Sometimes there was a fierce -dispute, but more often friendly laughter.</p> - -<p>"Eh, you're a dear man; you were born a rogue!" the workmen would say -to the master.</p> - -<p>And he answered, laughing in some confusion:</p> - -<p>"And what about you, wild fowl? There's as much roguery about you as -about me!"</p> - -<p>"How should we be anything else, friend?" agreed Ephimushka, but grave -Petr said:</p> - -<p>"You live by what you steal; what you earn you give to God and the -emperor."</p> - -<p>"Well, then I 'll willingly make a burnt offering of you," laughed the -master.</p> - -<p>They led him on good-naturedly:</p> - -<p>"Set fire to us, you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Burn us in a fiery furnace?"</p> - -<p>Gregory Shishl in, pressing his luxuriant beard to his breast with his -hands, said in a sing-song voice: "Brothers, let us do our business -without cheating. If we will only live honestly, how happy and peaceful -we shall be, eh? Shall we not, dear people?"</p> - -<p>His blue eyes darkened, grew moist; at that moment he looked -wonderfully handsome. His question seemed to have upset them all; they -all turned away from him in confusion.</p> - -<p>"A peasant does not cheat much," grumbled good-looking Osip with a -sigh, as if he pitied the peasant.</p> - -<p>The dark bricklayer, bending his round-shouldered back over the table, -said thickly:</p> - -<p>"Sin is like a sort of bog; the farther you go, the more swampy it -gets!"</p> - -<p>And the master said to them, as if he were making a speech:</p> - -<p>"What about me? I go into it because something calls me. Though I don't -want to."</p> - -<p>After this philosophising they again tried to get the better of one -another, but when they had finished their accounts, perspiring and -tired from the effort, they went out to the tavern to drink tea, -inviting the master to go with them.</p> - -<p>On the market-place it was my duty to watch these people, to see that -they did not steal nails, or bricks, or boards. Every one of them, in -addition to my master's work, held contracts of his own, and would try -to steal something for his own work under my very nose. They welcomed -me kindly, and Shishlin said:</p> - -<p>"Do you remember how you wanted to come into my gang? And look at you -now; put over me as chief!"</p> - -<p>"Well, well," said Osip banteringly, "keep watch over the river-banks, -and may God help you!"</p> - -<p>Petr observed in an unfriendly tone:</p> - -<p>"They have put a young crane to watch old mice."</p> - -<p>My duties were a cruel trial to me. I felt ashamed in the presence of -these people. They all seemed to possess some special knowledge which -was hidden from the rest of the world, and I had to watch them as if -they had been thieves and tricksters. The first part of the time it was -very hard for me, but Osip soon noticed this, and one day he said to me -privately:</p> - -<p>"Look here, young fellow, you won't do any good by sulking—understand?"</p> - -<p>Of course I did not understand, but I felt that he realized the -absurdity of my position, and I soon arrived at a frank understanding -with him.</p> - -<p>He took me aside in a corner and explained:</p> - -<p>"If you want to know, the biggest thief among us is the bricklayer, -Petrukha. He is a man with a large family, and he is greedy. You want -to watch him well. Nothing is too small for him; everything comes in -handy. A pound of nails, a dozen of bricks, a bag of mortar—he 'll -take all. He is a good man, God-fearing, of severe ideas, and well -educated, but he loves to steal! Ephimushka lives like a woman. He is -peaceable, and is harmless as far as you are concerned. He is clever, -too—humpbacks are never fools! And there's Gregory Shishlin. He has a -fad—he will neither take from others nor give of his own. He works for -nothing; any one can take him in, but he can deceive no one. He is not -governed by his reason."</p> - -<p>"He is good, then?"</p> - -<p>Osip looked at me as if I were a long way from him, and uttered these -memorable words:</p> - -<p>"True enough, he is good. To be good is the easiest way for lazy -people. To be good, my boy, does not need brains."</p> - -<p>"And what about you?" I asked Osip.</p> - -<p>He laughed and answered:</p> - -<p>"I? I am like a young girl. When I am a grandmother I will tell you all -about myself; till then you will have to wait. In the meanwhile you can -set your brains to work to find out where the real 'I' is hidden. Find -out; that is what you have to do!"</p> - -<p>He had upset all my ideas of himself and his friends.</p> - -<p>It was difficult for me to doubt the truth of his statement. I saw that -Ephimushka, Petr, and Gregory regarded the handsome old man as more -clever and more learned in worldly wisdom than themselves. They took -counsel with him about everything, listened attentively to his advice, -and showed him every sign of respect.</p> - -<p>"Will you be so good as to give us your advice," they would ask him. -But after one of these questions, when Osip had gone away, the -bricklayer said softly to Grigori:</p> - -<p>"Heretic!"</p> - -<p>And Grigori burst out laughing and added:</p> - -<p>"Clown!"</p> - -<p>The plasterer warned me in a friendly way:</p> - -<p>"You look out for yourself with the old man, Maximich. You must be -careful, or he will twist you round his finger in an hour; he is a -bitter old man. God save you from the harm he can do."</p> - -<p>"What harm?"</p> - -<p>"That I can't say!" answered the handsome workman, blinking.</p> - -<p>I did not understand him in the least. I thought that the most honest -and pious man of them all was the bricklayer, Petr; He spoke of -everything briefly, suggestively; his thoughts rested mostly upon God, -hell, and death.</p> - -<p>"Ekh! my children, my brothers, how can you not be afraid? How can you -not look forward, when the grave and the churchyard let no one pass -them?"</p> - -<p>He always had the stomachache, and there were some days when he could -not eat anything at all. Even a morsel of bread brought on the pain to -such an extent as to cause convulsions and a dreadful sickness.</p> - -<p>Humpbacked Ephimushka also seemed a very good and honest, but always -queer fellow. Sometimes he was happy and foolish, like a harmless -lunatic. He was everlastingly falling in love with different women, -about whom he always used the same words:</p> - -<p>"I tell you straight, she is not a woman, but a flower in cream—ei, -bo—o!"</p> - -<p>When the lively women of Kunavin Street came to wash the floors in the -shops, Ephimushka let himself down from the roof, and standing in a -corner somewhere, mumbled, blinking his gray, bright eyes, stretching -his mouth from ear to ear:</p> - -<p>"Such a butterfly as the Lord has sent to me; such a joy has descended -upon me! Well, what is she but a flower in cream, and grateful I ought -to be for the chance which has brought me such a gift! Such beauty -makes me full of life, afire!"</p> - -<p>At first the women used to laugh at him, calling out to each other:</p> - -<p>"Listen to the humpback running on! Oh Lord!" The slater caused no -little laughter. His high cheek-boned face wore a sleepy expression, -and he used to talk as if he were raving, his honeyed phrases flowing -in an intoxicating stream which obviously went to the women's heads. At -length one of the elder ones said to her friend in a tone of amazement:</p> - -<p>"Just listen to how that man is going on! A clean young fellow he is!"</p> - -<p>"He sings like a bird."</p> - -<p>"Or like a beggar in the church porch," said an obstinate girl, -refusing to give way.</p> - -<p>But Ephimushka was not like a beggar at all. He stood firmly, like -a squat tree-trunk; his voice rang out like a challenge; his words -became more and more alluring; the women listened to him in silence. -In fact, it seemed as if his whole being was flowing away in a tender, -narcotic speech.</p> - -<p>It ended in his saying to his mates in a tone of astonishment at -supper-time, or after the Sabbath rest, shaking his heavy, angular head:</p> - -<p>"Well, what a sweet little woman, a dear little thing! I have never -before come across anything like her!"</p> - -<p>When he spoke of his conquests Ephimushka was not boastful, nor -jeered at the victim of his charms, as the others always did. He was -only joyfully and gratefully touched, his gray eyes wide open with -astonishment.</p> - -<p>Osip, shaking his head, exclaimed:</p> - -<p>"Oh, you incorrigible fellow! How old are you?" "Forty-four years, but -that's nothing! I have grown five years younger to-day, as if I had -bathed in the healing water of a river. I feel thoroughly fit, and my -heart is at peace! Some women can produce that effect, eh?"</p> - -<p>The bricklayer said coarsely:</p> - -<p>"You are going on for fifty. You had better be careful, or you will -find that your loose way of life will leave a bitter taste."</p> - -<p>"You are shameless, Ephimushka!" sighed Grigori Shishlin.</p> - -<p>And it seemed to me that the handsome fellow envied the success of the -humpback.</p> - -<p>Osip looked round on us all from under his level silver brows, and said -jestingly:</p> - -<p>"Every Mashka has her fancies. One will love cups and spoons, another -buckles and ear-rings, but all Mashkas will be grandmothers in time."</p> - -<p>Shishlin was married, but his wife was living in the country, so he -also cast his eyes on the floor-scrubbers. They were all of them easy -of approach. All of them "earned a bit" to add to their income, and -they regarded this method of earning money in that poverty-stricken -area as simply as they would have regarded any other kind of work. -But the handsome workman never approached the women. He just gazed at -them from afar with a peculiar expression, as if he were pitying some -one—himself or them. But when they began to sport with him and tempt -him, he laughed bashfully and went away.</p> - -<p>"Well, you—"</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with you, you fool?" asked Ephimushka, amazed. "Do -you mean to say you are going to lose the chance?"</p> - -<p>"I am a married man," Grigori reminded him.</p> - -<p>"Well, do you think your wife will know anything about it?"</p> - -<p>"My wife would always know if I lived unchastely. I can't deceive her, -my brother."</p> - -<p>"How can she know?"</p> - -<p>"That I can't say, but she is bound to know, while she lives chaste -herself; and if I lead a chaste life, and she were to sin, I should -know it."</p> - -<p>"But how?" cried Ephimushka, but Grigori repeated calmly:</p> - -<p>"That I can't say."</p> - -<p>The slater waved his hands agitatedly.</p> - -<p>"There, if you please! Chaste, and does n't know! Oh, you blockhead!"</p> - -<p>Shishlin's workmen, numbering seven, treated him as one of themselves -and not as their master, and behind his back they nicknamed him "The -Calf."</p> - -<p>When he came to work and saw that they were lazy, he would take a -trowel, or a spade, and artistically do the work himself, calling out -coaxingly:</p> - -<p>"Set to work, children, set to work!"</p> - -<p>One day, carrying out the task which my master had angrily set me, I -said to Grigori:</p> - -<p>"What bad workmen you have."</p> - -<p>He seemed surprised.</p> - -<p>"Why?"—</p> - -<p>"This work ought to have been finished yesterday, and they won't finish -it even to-day."</p> - -<p>"That is true;'they won't have time," he agreed, and after a silence he -added cautiously:</p> - -<p>"Of course, I see that by rights I ought to dismiss them, but you see -they are all my own people from my own village. And then again the -punishment of God is that every man should eat bread by the sweat of -his brow, and the punishment is for all of us—for you and me, too. But -you and I labor less than they do, and—well, it would be awkward to -dismiss them."</p> - -<p>He lived in a dream. He would walk along the deserted streets of the -market-place, and suddenly halting on one of the bridges over the -Obvodni Canal, would stand for a long time at the railings, looking -into the water, at the sky, or into the distance beyond the Oka. If one -overtook him and asked:</p> - -<p>"What are you doing?"</p> - -<p>"What?" he would reply, waking up and smiling confusedly. "I was just -standing, looking about me a bit."</p> - -<p>"God has arranged everything very well, brother," he would often say. -"The sky, the earth, the flowing rivers, the steamboats running. You -can get on a boat and go where you like—to Riazan, or to Ribinsk, to -Perm, to Astrakhan. I went to Riazan once. It was n't bad—a little -town—but very dull, duller than Nijni. Our Nijni is wonderful, gay! -And Astrakhan is still duller. There are a lot of Kalmucks there, and -I don't like them. I don't like any of those Mordovans, or Kalmucks, -Persians, or Germans, or any of the other nations."</p> - -<p>He spoke slowly; his words cautiously felt for sympathy in others, and -always found it in the bricklayer, Petr.</p> - -<p>"Those are not nations, but nomads," said Petr with angry conviction. -"They came into the world before Christ and they 'll go out of it -before He comes again."</p> - -<p>Grigori became animated; he beamed.</p> - -<p>"That's it, isn't it? But I love a pure race like the Russians, my -brother, with a straight look. I don't like Jews, either, and I cannot -understand how they are the people of God. It is wisely arranged, no -doubt."</p> - -<p>The slater added darkly:</p> - -<p>"Wisely—but there is a lot that is superfluous!"</p> - -<p>Osip listened to what they said, and then put in, mockingly and -caustically:</p> - -<p>"There is much that is superfluous, and your conversation belongs to -that category. Ekh! you babblers; you want a thrashing, all of you!"</p> - -<p>Osip kept himself to himself, and it was impossible to guess with whom -he would agree, or with whom he would quarrel. Sometimes he seemed -inclined to agree calmly with all men, and with all their ideas; but -more often one saw that he was bored by all of them, regarding them as -half-witted, and he said to Petr, Grigori, and Ephimushka:</p> - -<p>"Ekh, you sow's whelps!"</p> - -<p>They laughed, not very cheerfully or willingly, but still they laughed.</p> - -<p>My master gave me five copecks a day for food. This was not enough, and -I was rather hungry. Seeing this, the workmen invited me to breakfast -and supper with them, and sometimes the contractors would invite me to -a tavern to drink tea with them. I willingly accepted the invitations. -I loved to sit among them and listen to their slow speeches, their -strange stories. I gave them great pleasure by my readings out of -church books.</p> - -<p>"You've stuck to books till you are fed up with them. Your crop is -stuffed with them," said Osip, regarding me attentively with his -cornflower-blue eyes. It was difficult to catch their expression; his -pupils always seemed to be floating, melting.</p> - -<p>"Take it a drop at a time—it is better; and when you are grown up, you -can be a monk and console the people by your teaching, and in that way -you may become a millionaire."</p> - -<p>"A missioner," corrected the bricklayer in a voice which for some -reason sounded aggrieved.</p> - -<p>"What?" asked Osip.</p> - -<p>"A missioner is what you mean! You are not deaf, are you?"</p> - -<p>"All right, then, a missioner, and dispute with heretics. And even -those whom you reckon as heretics have the right to bread. One can live -even with a heretic, if one exercises discretion."</p> - -<p>Grigori laughed in an embarrassed manner, and Petr said in his beard:</p> - -<p>"And wizards don't have a bad time of it, and other kinds of godless -people."</p> - -<p>But Osip returned quickly:</p> - -<p>"A wizard is not a man of education; education is not usually a -possession of the wizard."</p> - -<p>And he told me:</p> - -<p>"Now look at this; just listen. In our district there lived a peasant, -Tushek was his name, an emaciated little man, and idle. He lived like -a feather, blown about here and there by the wind, neither a worker -nor a do-nothing. Well, one day he took to praying, because he had -nothing else to do, and after wandering about for two years, he -suddenly showed himself in a new character. His hair hung down over -his shoulders; he wore a skull-cap, and a brown cassock of leather; he -looked on all of us with a baneful eye, and said straight out: 'Repent, -ye cursed!' And why not repent, especially if you happened to be a -woman? And the business ran its course: Tushek overfed, Tushek drunk, -Tushek having his way with the women to his heart's content—"</p> - -<p>The bricklayer interrupted him angrily:</p> - -<p>"What has that got to do with the matter, his overfeeding, or -overdrinking?"</p> - -<p>"What else has to do with it, then?"</p> - -<p>"His words are all that matter."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I took no notice of his words; I am abundantly gifted with words -myself."</p> - -<p>"We know all we want to know about Tushinkov, Dmitri Vassilich," said -Petr indignantly, and Grigori said nothing, but let his head droop, and -gazed into his glass.</p> - -<p>"I don't dispute it," replied Osip peaceably. "I was just telling our -Maximich of the different pathways to the morsel—"</p> - -<p>"Some of the roads lead to prison!"</p> - -<p>"Occasionally," agreed Osip. "But you will meet with priests on all -kinds of paths; one must learn where to turn off."</p> - -<p>He was always somewhat inclined to make fun of these pious people, the -plasterer and the bricklayer; perhaps he did not like them, but he -skilfully concealed the fact. His attitude towards people was always -elusive.</p> - -<p>He looked upon Ephimushka more indulgently, with more favor than upon -the other. The slater did not enter into discussions about God, the -truth, sects, the woes of humanity, as his friends did. Setting his -chair sidewise to the table, so that its back should not be in the way -of his hump, he would calmly drink glass after glass of tea. Then, -suddenly alert, he would glance round the smoky room, listening to the -incoherent babel of voices, and darting up, swiftly disappear. That -meant that some one had come into the tavern to whom Ephimushka owed -money,—he had a good dozen creditors,—so, as some of them used to -beat him when they saw him, he just fled from sin.</p> - -<p>"They get angry, the oddities!" he would say in a tone of surprise. -"Can't they understand that if I had the money I would give it to them?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, bitter poverty!" Osip sped after him.</p> - -<p>Sometimes Ephimushka sat deep in thought, hearing and seeing nothing; -his high cheek-boned face softened, his pleasant eyes looking -pleasanter than usual.</p> - -<p>"What are you thinking about?" they would ask him.</p> - -<p>"I was thinking that if I were rich I would marry a real lady, a -noblewoman—by God, I would! A colonel's daughter, for example, and, -Lord! how I would love her! I should be on fire with love of her, -because, my brothers, I once roofed the country house of a certain -colonel—"</p> - -<p>"And he had a widowed daughter; we 've heard all that before!" -interrupted Petr in an unfriendly tone.</p> - -<p>But Ephimushka, spreading his hands out on his knees, rocked to and -fro, his hump looking as if it were chiselling the air, and continued:</p> - -<p>"Sometimes she went into the garden, all in white; glorious she looked. -I looked at her from the roof, and I did n't know what the sun had done -to me. But what caused that white light? It was as if a white dove had -flown from under her feet! She was just a cornflower in cream! With -such a lady as that, one would like all one's life to be night."</p> - -<p>"And how would you get anything to eat?" asked Petr gruffly. But this -did not disturb Ephimushka.</p> - -<p>"Lord!" he exclaimed. "Should we want much? Besides, she is rich."</p> - -<p>Osip laughed.</p> - -<p>"And when are you going in for all this dissipation, Ephimushka, you -rogue?"</p> - -<p>Ephimushka never talked on any other subject but women, and he was an -unreliable workman. At one time he worked excellently and profitably, -at another time he did not get on at all; his wooden hammer tapped the -ridges lazily, leaving crevices. He always smelt of train-oil, but he -had a smell of his own as well, a healthy, pleasant smell like that of -a newly cut tree.</p> - -<p>One could discuss everything that was interesting with the carpenter. -His words always stirred one's feelings, but it was hard to tell when -he was serious and when joking.</p> - -<p>With Grigori it was better to talk about God; this was a subject which -he loved, and on which he was an authority.</p> - -<p>"Grisha," I asked, "do you know there are people who do not believe in -God?"</p> - -<p>He laughed quietly.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"They say there is no God."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's what you mean! I know that."</p> - -<p>And as if he were brushing away invisible flies, he went on:</p> - -<p>"King David said in his time, you remember, 'The fool hath said in his -heart "There is no God."' That's what he said about that kind of fool. -We can't do without God!"</p> - -<p>Osip said, as if agreeing with him:</p> - -<p>"Take away God from Petrukha here, and he will show you!"</p> - -<p>Shishlin's handsome face became stern. He touched his beard with -fingers the nails of which were covered with dried lime, and said -mysteriously:</p> - -<p>"God dwells in every incarnate being; the conscience and all the inner -life is God-given."</p> - -<p>"And sin?"</p> - -<p>"Sin comes from the flesh, from Satan! Sin is an external thing, like -smallpox, and nothing more! He who thinks too much of sin, sins all -the more. If you do not remember sin, you will not sin. Thoughts about -sin are from Satan, the lord of the flesh, who suggests."</p> - -<p>The bricklayer queried this.</p> - -<p>"You are wrong there."</p> - -<p>"I am not! God is sinless, and man is in His image and likeness. It is -the image of God, the flesh, which sins, but His likeness cannot sin; -it is a spirit."</p> - -<p>He smiled triumphantly, but Petr growled:</p> - -<p>"That is wrong."</p> - -<p>"According to you, I suppose," Osip asked the bricklayer, "if you don't -sin, you can't repent, and if you don't repent, you won't be saved?"</p> - -<p>"That's a more hopeful way. Forget the devil and you cease to love God, -the fathers said."</p> - -<p>Shishlin was not intemperate, but two glasses would make him tipsy. His -face would be flushed, his eyes childish, and his voice would be raised -in song.</p> - -<p>"How good everything is, brothers! Here we live, work a little, and -have as much as we want to eat, God be praised! Ah, how good it is!"</p> - -<p>He wept. The tears trickled down his beard and gleamed on the silken -hairs like false pearls.</p> - -<p>His laudation of our life and those tears were unpleasant to me. My -grandmother had sung the praises of life more convincingly, more -sympathetically, and not so crudely.</p> - -<p>All these discussions kept me in a continual tension, and aroused a -dull emotion in me. I had already read many books about peasants, and -I saw how utterly unlike the peasants in the books were to those in -real life. In books they were all unhappy. Good or evil characters, -they were all poorer in words and ideas than peasants in real life. -In books they spoke less of God, of sects, of churches, and more of -government, land, and law. They spoke less about women, too, but quite -as coarsely, though more kindly. For the peasants in real life, women -were a pastime, but a dangerous one. One had to be artful with women; -otherwise they would gain the upper hand and spoil one's whole life. -The <i>muzhik</i> in books may be good or bad, but he is altogether one or -the other. The real <i>muzhik</i> is neither wholly good nor wholly bad, -but he is wonderfully interesting. If the peasant in real life does -not blurt out all his thoughts to you, you have a feeling that he is -keeping something back which he means to keep for himself alone, and -that very unsaid, hidden thing is the most important thing about him.</p> - -<p>Of all the peasants I had read of in books, the one I liked the best -was Petr in "The Carpenter's Gang." I wanted to read the story to my -comrades, and I brought the book to the Yarmaka. I often spent the -night in one or another of the workshops; sometimes it was because I -was so tired that I lacked the strength to get home.</p> - -<p>When I told them that I had a book about carpenters, my statement -aroused a lively interest, especially in Osip. He took the book out of -my hands, and turned over the leaves distrustfully, shaking his head.</p> - -<p>"And it is really written about us! Oh, you rascal! Who wrote it? Some -gentleman? I thought as much! Gentlemen, and <i>chinovniks</i> especially, -are experts at anything. Where God does not even guess, a <i>chinovnik</i> -has it all settled in his mind. That's what they live for."</p> - -<p>"You speak very irreverently of God, Osip," observed Petr.</p> - -<p>"That's all right! My words are less to God than a snowflake or a drop -of rain are to me. Don't you worry; you and I don't touch God."</p> - -<p>He suddenly began to play restlessly, throwing off sharp little sayings -like sparks from a flint, cutting off with them, as with scissors, -whatever was displeasing to him. Several times in the course of the day -he asked me:</p> - -<p>"Are we going to read, Maximich? That's right! A good idea!"</p> - -<p>When the hour for rest arrived we had supper with him in his workshop, -and after supper appeared Petr with his assistant Ardalon, and Shishlin -with the lad Phoma. In the shed where the gang slept there was a lamp -burning, and I began to read. They listened without speaking, but they -moved about, and very soon Ardalon said crossly:</p> - -<p>"I've had enough of this!"</p> - -<p>And he went out. The first to fall asleep was Grigori, with his mouth -open surprisingly; then the carpenters fell asleep; but Petr, Osip, -and Phoma drew nearer to me and listened attentively. When I finished -reading Osip put out the lamp at once. By the stars it was nearly -midnight.</p> - -<p>Petr asked in the darkness:</p> - -<p>"What was that written for? Against whom?"</p> - -<p>"Now for sleep!" said Osip, taking off his boots.</p> - -<p>Petr persisted in his question:</p> - -<p>"I asked, against whom was that written?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose they know!" replied Osip, arranging himself for sleep on a -scaffolding.</p> - -<p>"If it is written against stepmothers, it is a waste of time. It won't -make stepmothers any better," said the bricklayer firmly. "And if it is -meant for Petr, it is also futile; his sin in his answer. For murder -you go to Siberia, and that's all there is about it! Books are no good -for such sins; no use, eh?"</p> - -<p>Osip did not reply, and the bricklayer added;</p> - -<p>"They can do nothing themselves and so they discuss other people's -work. Like women at a meeting. Good-by, it is bedtime."</p> - -<p>He stood for a minute in the dark blue square of the open door, and -asked:</p> - -<p>"Are you asleep, Osip? What do you think about it?"</p> - -<p>"Eh?" responded the carpenter sleepily.</p> - -<p>"All right; go to sleep."</p> - -<p>Shishlin had fallen on his side where he had been sitting. Phoma lay on -some trampled straw beside me. The whole neighborhood was asleep. In -the distance rose the shriek of the railway engines, the heavy rumbling -of iron wheels, the clang of buffers. In the shed rose the sound -of snoring in different keys. I felt uncomfortable. I had expected -some sort of discussion, and there had been nothing of the kind. But -suddenly Osip spoke softly and evenly:</p> - -<p>"My child, don't you believe anything of that. You are young; you have -a long while to live; treasure up your thoughts. Your own sense is -worth twice some one else's. Are you asleep, Phoma?"</p> - -<p>"No," replied Phoma with alacrity.</p> - -<p>"That's right! You have both received some education, so you go on -reading. But don't believe all you read. They can print anything, you -know. That is their business!"</p> - -<p>He lowered his feet from the scaffolding, and resting his hands on the -edge of the plank, bent over us, and continued:</p> - -<p>"How ought you to regard books? Denunciation of certain people, that's -what a book is! Look, they say, and see what sort of a man this is—a -carpenter, or any one else—and here is a gentleman, a different kind -of man! A book is not written without an object, and generally around -some one."</p> - -<p>Phoma said thickly:</p> - -<p>"Petr was right to kill that contractor!"</p> - -<p>"That was wrong. It can never be right to kill a man. I know that you -do not love Grigori, but put that thought away from you. We are none -of us rich people. To-day I am master, to-morrow a workman again."</p> - -<p>"I did not mean you, Uncle Osip."</p> - -<p>"It is all the same."</p> - -<p>"You are just—"</p> - -<p>"Wait; I am telling you why these books are written," Osip interrupted -Phoma's angry words. "It is a very cunning idea! Here we have a -gentleman without a <i>muzhik;</i> here a <i>muzhik</i> without a gentleman! Look -now! Both the gentleman and the <i>muzhik</i> are badly off. The gentleman -grows weak, crazy, and the <i>muzhik</i> becomes boastful, drunken, sickly, -and offensive. That's what happens! But in his lord's castle it was -better, they say. The lord hid himself behind the <i>muzhik</i> and the -<i>muzhik</i> behind the master, and so they went round and round, well-fed, -and peaceful. I don't deny that it was more peaceful living with the -nobles. It was no advantage to the lord if his <i>muzhik</i> was poor, but -it was to his good if he was rich and intelligent. He was then a weapon -in his hand. I know all about it; you see I lived in a nobleman's -domain for nearly forty years. There's a lot of my experience written -on my hide."</p> - -<p>I remembered that the carter, Petr, who committed suicide, used to talk -in the same way about the nobility, and it was very unpleasant to my -mind that the ideas of Osip should run on the same lines as those of -that evil old man.</p> - -<p>Osip touched my leg with his hand, and went on:</p> - -<p>"One must understand books and all sorts of writings. No one does -anything without a reason, and books are not written for nothing, but -to muddle people's heads. Every one is created with intelligence, -without which no one can wield an ax, or sew a shoe." He spoke for a -long time, and lay down. Again he jumped up, throwing gently his well -turned, quaint phrases into the darkness and quietness.</p> - -<p>"They say that the nobles are quite a different race from the peasants, -but it is not true. We are just like the nobles, only we happen to have -been born low down in the scale. Of course a noble learns from books, -while I learn by my own noddle, and a gentleman has a delicate skin; -that is all the difference. No—o, lads, it is time there was a new -way of living; all these writings ought to be thrown aside! Let every -one ask himself 'What am I?' A man! 'And what is he?' Also a man! What -then? Does God need his superfluous wealth? No-o, we are equal in the -sight of God when it comes to gifts."</p> - -<p>At last, in the morning, when the dawn had put out the light of the -stars, Osip said to me:</p> - -<p>"You see how I could write? I have talked about things that I have -never thought about. But you mustn't place too much faith in what I -say. I was talking more because I was sleepless than with any serious -intention. You lie down and think of something to amuse you. Once there -was a raven which flew from the fields to the hills, from boundary to -boundary, and lived beyond her time; the Lord punished her. The raven -is dead and dried up. What is the meaning of that? There is no meaning -in it, none. Now go to sleep; it will soon be time to get up."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h5> - - -<p>As Yaakov, the stoker, had done in his time, so now Osip grew and grew -in my eyes, until he hid all other people from me. There was some -resemblance to the stoker in him, but at the same time he reminded -me of grandfather, the valuer, Petr Vassiliev, Smouri, and the cook. -When I think of all the people who are firmly fixed in my memory, he -has left behind a deeper impression than any of them, an impression -which has eaten into it, as oxide eats into a brass bell. What was -remarkable about him was that he had two sets of ideas. In the daytime, -at his work among people, his lively, simple ideas were businesslike -and easier to understand than those to which he gave vent when he was -off duty, in the evenings, when he went with me into the town to see -his cronies, the dealers, or at night when he could not sleep. He had -special night thoughts, many-sided like the flame of a lamp. They -burned brightly, but where were their real faces? On which side was -this or that idea, nearer and dearer to Osip?</p> - -<p>He seemed to me to be much cleverer than any one else I had met, and I -hovered about him, as I used to do with the stoker, trying to find out -about the man, to understand him. But he glided away from me; it was -impossible to grasp him. Where was the real man hidden? How far could -I believe in him?</p> - -<p>I remember how he said to me:</p> - -<p>"You must find out for yourself where I am hidden. Look for me!"</p> - -<p>My self-love was piqued, but more than that, it had become a matter of -life and death to me to understand the old man.</p> - -<p>With all his elusiveness he was substantial. He looked as if he could -go on living for a hundred years longer and still remain the same, so -unchangeably did he preserve his <i>ego</i> amid the instability of the -people around him. The valuer had made upon me an equal impression of -steadfastness, but it was not so pleasing to me. Osip's steadfastness -was of a different kind; although I cannot explain how, it was more -pleasing.</p> - -<p>The instability of human creatures is too often brought to one's -notice; their acrobatic leaps from one position to another upset me. -I had long ago grown weary of being surprised by these inexplicable -somersaults, and they had by degrees extinguished my lively interest in -humanity, disturbed my love for it.</p> - -<p>One day at the beginning of July, a rackety hackney cab came dashing up -to the place where we were working. On the box-seat a drunken driver -sat, hiccuping gloomily. He was bearded, hatless, and had a bruised -lip. Grigori Shishlin rolled about in the carriage, drunk, while a -fat, red-cheeked girl held his arm. She wore a straw hat trimmed with -a red ribbon and glass cherries; she had a sunshade in her hand, and -goloshes on her bare feet. Waving her sunshade, swaying, she giggled -and screamed:</p> - -<p>"What the devil! The market-place is not open; there is no -market-place, and he brings me to the market-place. Little mother—"</p> - -<p>Grigori, dishevelled and limp, crept out of the cab, sat on the ground -and declared to us, the spectators of the scene, with tears:</p> - -<p>"I am down on my knees; I have sinned greatly! I thought of sin, and -I have sinned. Ephimushka says 'Grisha! Grisha! He speaks truly, but -you—forgive me; I can treat you all. He says truly, 'We live once -only, and no more.'"</p> - -<p>The girl burst out laughing, stamped her feet, and lost her goloshes, -and the driver called out gruffly:</p> - -<p>"Let us get on farther! The horse won't stand still!"</p> - -<p>The horse, an old, worn-out jade, was covered with foam, and stood as -still as if it were buried. The whole scene was irresistibly comical.</p> - -<p>Grigori's workmen rolled about with laughter as they looked at their -master, his grand lady, and the bemused coachman.</p> - -<p>The only one who did not laugh was Phoma, who stood at the door of one -of the shops beside me and muttered:</p> - -<p>"The devil take the swine. And he has a wife at home—a bee-eautiful -woman!"</p> - -<p>The driver kept on urging them to start. The girl got out of the cab, -lifted Grigori up, set him on his feet, and cried with a wave of her -sunshade:</p> - -<p>"Go on!"</p> - -<p>Laughing good-naturedly at their master, and envying him, the men -returned to their work at the call of Phoma. It was plain that it was -repugnant to him to see Grigori made ridiculous.</p> - -<p>"He calls himself master," he muttered. "I have not quite a month's -work left to do here. After that I shall go back to the country. I -can't stand this."</p> - -<p>I felt vexed for Grigori; that girl with the cherries looked so -annoyingly absurd beside him.</p> - -<p>I often wondered why Grigori Shishlin was the master and Phoma Tuchkov -the workman. A strong, fair fellow, with curly hair, an aquiline -nose, and gray, clever eyes in his round face, Phoma was not like a -peasant. If he had been well-dressed, he might have been the son of a -merchant of good family. He was gloomy, taciturn, businesslike. Being -well educated, he kept the accounts of the contractor, drew up the -estimates, and could set his comrades to work successfully, but he -worked unwillingly himself.</p> - -<p>"You won't make work last forever," he said calmly. He despised books.</p> - -<p>"They can print what they like, but I shall go on thinking as I like," -he said. "Books are all nonsense."</p> - -<p>But he listened attentively to every one, and if something interested -him, he would ask all the details about it, perseveringly, always -thinking of it in his own way, measuring it by his own measure.</p> - -<p>Once I told Phoma that he ought to be a contractor. He replied -indolently:</p> - -<p>"If it were a question of turning over thousands, yes. But to worry -myself for the sake of making a few copecks, it is not worth while. No, -I am just looking about; then I shall go into a monastery in Oranko. -I am good-looking, powerful in muscle; I may take the fancy of some -merchant's widow! Such things do happen. There was a Sergatzki boy who -made his fortune in two years, and married a girl from these parts, -from the town. He had to take an icon to her house, and she saw him."</p> - -<p>This was an obsession with him; he knew many tales of how taking -service in a monastery had led people to an easy life. I did not care -for these stories, nor did I like the trend of Phoma's mind, but I felt -sure that he would go to a monastery.</p> - -<p>When the market was opened, Phoma, to every one's surprise, went as -waiter to a tavern. I do not say that his mates were surprised, but -they all began to treat him mockingly. On holidays they would all go -together to drink tea, saying to one another:</p> - -<p>"Let us go and see our Phoma."</p> - -<p>And when they arrived at the tavern they would call out:</p> - -<p>"Hi, waiter! Curly mop, come here!"</p> - -<p>He would come to them and ask, with his head held high:</p> - -<p>"What can I get for you?"</p> - -<p>"Don't you recognize acquaintances now?"</p> - -<p>"I never recognize any one."</p> - -<p>He felt that his mates despised him and were making fun of him, and he -looked at them with dully expectant eyes. His face might have been made -of wood, but it seemed to say:</p> - -<p>"Well, make haste; laugh and be done with it."</p> - -<p>"Shall we give him a tip?" they would ask, and after purposely fumbling -in their purses for a long time, they would give him nothing at all.</p> - -<p>I asked Phoma how he could go out as a waiter when he had meant to -enter a monastery.</p> - -<p>"I never meant to go into a monastery!" he replied, "and I shall not -stay long as a waiter."</p> - -<p>Four years later I met him in Tzaritzin, still a waiter in a tavern; -and later still I read in a newspaper that Phoma Tuchkov had been -arrested for an attempted burglary.</p> - -<p>The history of the mason, Ardalon, moved me deeply. He was the eldest -and best workman in Petr's gang. This black-bearded, light-hearted man -of forty years also involuntarily evoked the query, "Why was he not the -master instead of Petr?" He seldom drank vodka and hardly ever drank -too much; he knew his work thoroughly, and worked as if he loved it; -the bricks seemed to fly from his hands like red doves. In comparison -with him, the sickly, lean Petr seemed an absolutely superfluous member -of the gang. He used to speak thus of his work:</p> - -<p>"I build stone houses for people, and a wooden coffin for myself."</p> - -<p>But Ardalon laid his bricks with cheerful energy as he cried: "Work, my -child, for the glory of God."</p> - -<p>And he told us all that next spring he would go to Tomsk, where his -brother-in-law had undertaken a large contract to build a church, and -had invited him to go as overseer.</p> - -<p>"I have made up my mind to go. Building churches is work that I love!" -he said. And he suggested to me: "Come with me! It is very easy, -brother, for an educated person to get on in Siberia. There, education -is a trump card!"</p> - -<p>I agreed to his proposition, and he cried triumphantly:</p> - -<p>"There! That is business and not a joke."</p> - -<p>Toward Petr and Grigori he behaved with good-natured derision, like a -grown-up person towards children, and he said to Osip:</p> - -<p>"Braggarts! Each shows the other his cleverness, as if they were -playing at cards. One says: 'My cards are all such and such a color,' -and the other says, 'And mine are trumps!'"</p> - -<p>Osip observed hesitatingly:</p> - -<p>"How could it be otherwise? Boasting is only human; all the girls walk -about with their chests stuck out."</p> - -<p>"All, yes, all. It is God, God all the time. But they hoard up money -themselves!" said Ardalon impatiently.</p> - -<p>"Well, Grisha does n't."</p> - -<p>"I am speaking for myself. I would go with this God into the forest, -the desert. I am weary of being here. In the spring I shall go to -Siberia."</p> - -<p>The workmen, envious of Ardalon, said:</p> - -<p>"If we had such a chance in the shape of a brother-in-law, we should -not be afraid of Siberia either."</p> - -<p>And suddenly Ardalon disappeared. He went away from the workshop on -Sunday, and for three days no one knew where he was.</p> - -<p>This made anxious conjectures.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps he has been murdered."</p> - -<p>"Or maybe he is drowned."</p> - -<p>But Ephimushka came, and declared in an embarrassed manner:</p> - -<p>"He has gone on the drink."</p> - -<p>"Why do you tell such lies?" cried Petr incredulously.</p> - -<p>"He has gone on the drink; he is drinking madly. He is just like a corn -kiln which burns from the very center. Perhaps his much-loved wife is -dead."</p> - -<p>"He is a widower! Where is he?"</p> - -<p>Petr angrily set out to save Ardalon, but the latter fought him.</p> - -<p>Then Osip, pressing his lips together firmly, thrust his hands in his -pockets and said:</p> - -<p>"Shall I go have a look at him, and see what it is all about? He is a -good fellow."</p> - -<p>I attached myself to him.</p> - -<p>"Here's a man," said Osip on the way, "who lives for years quite -decently, when suddenly he loses control of himself, and is all over -the place. Look, Maximich, and learn."</p> - -<p>We went to one of the cheap "houses of pleasure" of Kunavin Village, -and we were welcomed by a predatory old woman. Osip whispered to her, -and she ushered us into a small empty room, dark and dirty, like a -stable. On a small bed slept, in an abandoned attitude, a large, stout -woman. The old woman thrust her fist in her side and said:</p> - -<p>"Wake up, frog, wake up!"</p> - -<p>The woman jumped up in terror, rubbing her face with her hands, and -asked:</p> - -<p>"Good Lord! who is it? What is it?"</p> - -<p>"Detectives are here," said Osip harshly. With a groan the woman -disappeared, and he spat after her and explained to me:</p> - -<p>"They are more afraid of detectives than of the devil."</p> - -<p>Taking a small glass from the wall, the old woman raised a piece of the -wall-paper.</p> - -<p>"Look! Is he the one you want?"</p> - -<p>Osip looked through a chink in the partition. "That is he! Get the -woman away."</p> - -<p>I also looked through the chink into just such a narrow stable as the -one we were in. On the sill of the window, which was closely shuttered, -burned a tin lamp, near which stood a squinting, naked, Tatar woman, -sewing a chemise. Behind her, on two pillows on the bed, was raised the -bloated face of Ardalon, his black, tangled beard projecting.</p> - -<p>The Tatar woman shivered, put on her chemise, and came past the bed, -suddenly appearing in our room.</p> - -<p>Osip looked at her and again spat.</p> - -<p>"Ugh! Shameless hussy!"</p> - -<p>"And you are an old fool!" she replied, laughing, Osip laughed too, and -shook a threatening finger at her.</p> - -<p>We went into the Tatar's stable. The old man sat on the bed at -Ardalon's feet and tried for a long time unsuccessfully to awaken him. -He muttered:</p> - -<p>"All right, wait a bit. We will go—"</p> - -<p>At length he awoke, gazed wildly at Osip and at me, and closing his -bloodshot eyes, murmured:</p> - -<p>"Well, well!"</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you?" asked Osip gently, without reproaches, -but rather sadly.</p> - -<p>"I was driven to it," explained Ardalon hoarsely, and coughing.</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, there were reasons."</p> - -<p>"You were not contented, perhaps?"</p> - -<p>"What is the good—"</p> - -<p>Ardalon took an open bottle of vodka from the table, and began to drink -from it. He then asked Osip:</p> - -<p>"Would you like some? There ought to be something to eat here as well."</p> - -<p>The old man poured some of the spirit into his mouth, swallowed it, -frowned, and began to chew a small piece of bread carefully, but -muddled Ardalon said drowsily:</p> - -<p>"So I have thrown in my lot with the Tatar woman. She is a pure Tatar, -as Ephimushka says, young, an orphan from Kasimov; she was getting -ready for the fair."</p> - -<p>From the other side of the wall some one said in broken Russian:</p> - -<p>"Tatars are the best, like young hens. Send him away; he is not your -father."</p> - -<p>"That's she," muttered Ardalon, gazing stupidly at the wall.</p> - -<p>"I have seen her," said Osip.</p> - -<p>Ardalon turned to me:</p> - -<p>"That is the sort of man I am, brother."</p> - -<p>I expected Osip to reproach Ardalon, to give him a lecture which would -make him repent bitterly. But nothing of the kind happened; they sat -side by side, shoulder to shoulder, and uttered calm, brief words. It -was melancholy to see them in that dark, dirty stable. The woman called -ludicrous words through the chink in the wall, but they did not listen -to them. Osip took a walnut off the table, cracked it against his boot, -and began to remove the shell neatly, as he asked:</p> - -<p>"All your money gone?"</p> - -<p>"There is some with Petrucha."</p> - -<p>"I say! Aren't you going away? If you were to go to Tomsk, now—"</p> - -<p>"What should I go to Tomsk for?"</p> - -<p>"Have you changed your mind, then?"</p> - -<p>"If I had been going to strangers, it would have been different."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"But to go to my sister and my brother-in-law—"</p> - -<p>"What of it?"</p> - -<p>"It is not particularly pleasant to begin again with one's own people."</p> - -<p>"The beginning is the same anywhere."</p> - -<p>"All the same—"</p> - -<p>They talked in such an amicably serious vein that the Tatar woman left -off teasing them, and coming into the room, took her frock down from -the wall in silence, and disappeared.</p> - -<p>"She is young," said Osip.</p> - -<p>Ardalon glanced at him and without annoyance replied:</p> - -<p>"Ephimushka is wrong-headed. He knows nothing, except about women. But -the Tatar woman is joyous; she maddens us all."</p> - -<p>"Take care; you won't be able to escape from her," Osip warned him, and -having eaten the walnut, took his leave.</p> - -<p>On the way back I asked Osip:</p> - -<p>"Why did you go to him?"</p> - -<p>"Just to look at him. He is a man I have known a long time. I have -seen ma-a-ny such cases. A man leads a decent life, and suddenly he -behaves as if he had just escaped from prison." He repeated what he had -said before, "One should be on one's guard against vodka."</p> - -<p>But after a minute he added:</p> - -<p>"But life would be dull without it."</p> - -<p>"Without vodka?"</p> - -<p>"Well, yes! When you drink, it is just as if you were in another world."</p> - -<p>Ardalon never came back for good. At the end of a few days he returned -to work, but soon disappeared again, and in the spring I met him among -the dock laborers; he was melting the ice round the barges in the -harbor. We greeted each other in friendly fashion and went to a tavern -for tea, after which he boasted:</p> - -<p>"You remember what a workman I was, eh? I tell you straight, I was an -expert at my own business! I could have earned hundreds."</p> - -<p>"However, you did not."</p> - -<p>"No, I didn't earn them," he cried proudly. "I spit upon work!"</p> - -<p>He swaggered. The people in the tavern listened to his impassioned -words and were impressed.</p> - -<p>"You remember what that sly thief Petrucha used to say about work? For -others stone houses; for himself a wooden coffin! Well, that's true of -all work!"</p> - -<p>I said:</p> - -<p>"Petrucha is ill. He is afraid of death."</p> - -<p>But Ardalon cried:</p> - -<p>"I am ill, too; my heart is out of order."</p> - -<p>On holidays I often wandered out of the town to "Millioni Street," -where the dockers lived, and saw how quickly Ardalon had settled -down among those uncouth ruffians. Only a year ago, happy and -serious-minded, Ardalon had now become as noisy as any of them. He had -acquired their curious, shambling walk, looked at people defiantly, -as if he were inviting every one to fight with him, and was always -boasting:</p> - -<p>"You see how I am received; I am like a chieftain here!"</p> - -<p>Never grudging the money he had earned, he liberally treated the -dockers, and in fights he always took the part of the weakest. He often -cried:</p> - -<p>"That's not fair, children! You've got to fight fair!"</p> - -<p>And so they called him "Fairplay," which delighted him.</p> - -<p>I ardently studied these people, closely packed in that old and dirty -sack of a street. All of them were people who had cut themselves off -from ordinary life, but they seemed to have created a life of their -own, independent of any master, and gay. Careless, audacious, they -reminded me of grandfather's stories about the bargemen who so easily -transformed themselves into brigands or hermits. When there was no -work, they were not squeamish about committing small thefts from the -barges and steamers, but that did not trouble me, for I saw that life -was sewn with theft, like an old coat with gray threads. At the same -time I saw that these people never worked with enthusiasm, unsparing of -their energies, as happened in cases of urgency, such as fires, or the -breaking of the ice. And, as a rule, they lived more of a holiday life -than any other people.</p> - -<p>But Osip, having noticed my friendship with Ardalon, warned me in a -fatherly way:</p> - -<p>"Look here, my boy; why this close friendship with the folk of Millioni -Street? Take care you don't do yourself harm by it."</p> - -<p>I told him as well as I could how I liked these people who lived so -gaily, without working.</p> - -<p>"Birds of the air they are!" he interrupted me, laughing. "That's what -they are—idle, useless people; and work is a calamity to them!"</p> - -<p>"What is work, after all? As they say, the labors of the righteous -don't procure them stone houses to live in!"</p> - -<p>I said this glibly enough. I had heard the proverb so often, and felt -the truth of it.</p> - -<p>But Osip was very angry with me, and cried:</p> - -<p>"Who says so? Fools, idlers! And you are a youngster; you ought not to -listen to such things! Oh, you—! That is the nonsense which is uttered -by the envious, the unsuccessful. Wait till your feathers are grown; -then you can fly! And I shall tell your master about this friendship of -yours."</p> - -<p>And he did tell. The master spoke to me about the matter.</p> - -<p>"You leave the Millioni folk alone, Pyeshkov! They are thieves and -prostitutes, and from there the path leads to the prison and the -hospital. Let them alone!"</p> - -<p>I began to conceal my visits to Millioni Street, but I soon had to give -them up. One day I was sitting with Ardalon and his comrade, Robenok, -on the roof of a shed in the yard of one of the lodging-houses. -Robenok was relating to us amusingly how he had made his way on foot -from Rostov, on the Don, to Moscow. He had been a soldier-sapper, a -Geogrivsky horseman, and he was lame. In the war with Turkey he had -been wounded in the knee. Of low stature, he had a terrible strength in -his arms, a strength which was of no profit to him, for his lameness -prevented him from working. He had had an illness which had caused -the hair to fall from his head and face; his head was like that of a -new-born infant.</p> - -<p>With his brown eyes sparkling he said:</p> - -<p>"Well, at Serpoukhov I saw a priest sitting in a sledge. 'Father,' I -said, 'give something to a Turkish hero.'"</p> - -<p>Ardalon shook his head and said:</p> - -<p>"That's a lie!"</p> - -<p>"Why should I lie?" asked Robenok, not in the least offended, and my -friend growled in lazy reproof:</p> - -<p>"You are incorrigible! You have the chance of becoming a watchman—they -always put lame men to that job—and you stroll about aimlessly, and -tell lies."</p> - -<p>"Well, I only do it to make people laugh. I lie just for the sake of -amusement."</p> - -<p>"You ought to laugh at yourself."</p> - -<p>In the yard, which was dark and dirty although the weather was dry and -sunny, a woman appeared and cried, waving some sort of a rag about her -head:</p> - -<p>"Who will buy a petticoat? Hi, friends!"</p> - -<p>Women crept out from the hidden places of the house and gathered -closely round the seller. I recognized her at once; it was the -laundress, Natalia. I jumped down from the roof, but she, having given -the petticoat to the first bidder, had already quietly left the yard.</p> - -<p>"How do you do?" I greeted her joyfully as I caught her at the gate.</p> - -<p>"What next, I wonder?" she exclaimed, glancing at me askance, and then -she suddenly stood still, crying angrily: "God save us! What are you -doing here?"</p> - -<p>Her terrified exclamation touched and confused me. I realized that she -was afraid for me; terror and amazement were shown so plainly in her -intelligent face. I soon explained to her that I was not living in that -street, but only went there sometimes to see what there was to see.</p> - -<p>"See?" she cried angrily and derisively. "What sort of a place is this -that you should want to see it? It's the women you 're after."</p> - -<p>Her face was wrinkled, dark shadows lay under her eyes, and her lips -drooped feebly.</p> - -<p>Standing at the door of a tavern she said:</p> - -<p>"Come in; I am going to have some tea! You are well-dressed, not like -they dress here, yet I cannot believe what you say."</p> - -<p>But in the tavern she seemed to believe me, and as she poured out tea, -she began to tell me how she had only awakened from sleep an hour ago, -and had not had anything to eat or drink yet.</p> - -<p>"And when I went to bed last night I was as drunk as drunk. I can't -even remember where I had the drink, or with whom."</p> - -<p>I felt sorry for her, awkward in her presence, and I wanted to ask her -where her daughter was. After she had drunk some vodka and hot tea, she -began to talk in a familiar, lively way, coarsely, like all the women -of that street, but when I asked about her daughter she was sobered at -once, and cried:</p> - -<p>"What do you want to know for? No, my boy, you won't get hold of her; -don't think it!"</p> - -<p>She drank more, and then she said:</p> - -<p>"I have nothing to do with my daughter. What am I? A laundress! What -sort of a mother for her? She is well brought up, educated. That she -is, my brother! She left me to live with a rich friend, as a teacher, -like—"</p> - -<p>After a silence she said:</p> - -<p>"That's how it is! The laundress does n't please you, but the -street-walker does?"</p> - -<p>That she was a street-walker I had seen at once, of course. There was -no other kind of woman in that street. But when she told me so herself, -my eyes filled with tears of shame and pity for her. I felt as if she -had burned me by making that admission,—she, who not long ago had been -so brave, independent, and clever.</p> - -<p>"Ekh! you!" she said, looking at me and sighing. "Go away from this -place, I beg you! I urge you, don't come here, or you will be lost!"</p> - -<p>Then she began to speak softly and brokenly, as if she were talking to -herself, bending over the table and drawing figures on the tray with -her fingers.</p> - -<p>"But what are my entreaties and my advice to you? When my own daughter -would not listen to me I cried to her: 'You can't throw aside your -own mother. What are you thinking of?' And she—she said, 'I shall -strangle myself!' And she went away to Kazan; she wants to learn to be -a midwife. Good—good! But what about me? You see what I am now? What -have I to cling to? And so I went on the streets."</p> - -<p>She fell Into a silence, and thought for a long time, soundlessly -moving her lips. It was plain that she had forgotten me. The corners -of her lips drooped; her mouth was curved like a sickle, and it was -a torturing sight to see how her lips quivered, and how the wavering -furrows on her face spoke without words. Her face was like that -of an aggrieved child. Strands of hair had fallen from under her -headkerchief, and lay on her cheek, or coiled behind her small ear. -Her tears dropped into her cup of cold tea, and seeing this, she pushed -the cup away and shut her eyes tightly, squeezing out two more tears. -Then she wiped her face with her handkerchief. I could not bear to stay -with her any longer. I rose quietly.</p> - -<p>"Good-by!"</p> - -<p>"Eh? Go—go to the devil!" She waved me away without looking at me; she -had apparently forgotten who was with her.</p> - -<p>I returned to Ardalon in the yard. He had meant to come with me to -catch crabs, and I wanted to tell him about the woman. But neither he -nor Robenok were on the roof of the shed; and while I was looking for -him in the disorderly yard, there arose from the street the sound of -one of those rows which were frequent there.</p> - -<p>I went out through the gate and came into collision with Natalia, -sobbing, wiping her bruised face with her headkerchief. Setting -straight her disordered hair with her other hand, she went blindly -along the footpath, and following her came Ardalon and Robenok. The -latter was saying:</p> - -<p>"Give her one more; come on!"</p> - -<p>Ardalon overtook the woman, flourishing his fist. She turned her bosom -full toward him; her face was terrible; her eyes blazed with hatred.</p> - -<p>"Go on, hit me!" she cried.</p> - -<p>I hung on to Ardalon's arm; he looked at me in amazement.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter with you?"</p> - -<p>"Don't touch her!" I just managed to say.</p> - -<p>He burst out laughing.</p> - -<p>"She is your lover? Aie, that Natashka, she has devoured our little -monk."</p> - -<p>Robenok laughed, too, holding his sides, and for a long time they -roasted me with their hot obscenity. It was unbearable! But while they -were thus occupied, Natalia went away, and I, losing my temper at last, -struck Robenok in the chest with my head, knocking him over, and ran -away.</p> - -<p>For a long time after that I did not go near Millioni Street. But I saw -Ardalon once again; I met him on the ferry-boat.</p> - -<p>"Where have you been hiding yourself?" he asked joyfully.</p> - -<p>When I told him that it was repulsive to me to remember how he had -knocked Natalia about and obscenely insulted me, Ardalon laughed -good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>"Did you take that seriously? We only rubbed it into you for a joke! As -for her, why shouldn't she be knocked about, a street-walker? People -beat their wives, so they are certainly not going to have more mercy on -such as that! Still, it was only a joke, the whole thing. I understand, -you know, that the fist is no good for teaching!"</p> - -<p>"What have you got to teach her? How are you better than she is?"</p> - -<p>He put his hands on my shoulders and, shaking me, said banteringly:</p> - -<p>"In our disgraceful state no one of us is better than another."</p> - -<p>Then he laughed and added boastfully:</p> - -<p>"I understand everything from within and without, brother, everything! -I am not wood!"</p> - -<p>He was a little tipsy, at the jovial stage; he looked at me with the -tender pity of a good master for an unintelligent pupil.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I met Pavl Odintzov. He was livelier than ever, dressed like -a dandy, and talked to me condescendingly and always reproachfully.</p> - -<p>"You are throwing yourself away on that kind of work! They are nothing -but peasants."</p> - -<p>Then he would sadly retail all the latest news from the workshop.</p> - -<p>"Jikharev is still taken up with that cow. Sitanov is plainly fretting; -he has begun to drink to excess. The wolves have eaten Golovev; he was -coming home from Sviatka; he was drunk, and the wolves devoured him." -And bursting into a gay peal of laughter he comically added:</p> - -<p>"They ate him and they all became drunk themselves! They were very -merry and walked about the forests on their hind legs, like performing -dogs. Then they fell to fighting and in twenty-fours hours they were -all dead!"</p> - -<p>I listened to him and laughed, too, but I felt that the workshop and -all I had experienced in it was very far away from me now.</p> - -<p>This was rather a melancholy reflection.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></h5> - - -<p>There was hardly any work in the market-square during the winter, and -instead I had innumerable trivial duties to perform in the house. They -swallowed up the whole day, but the evenings were left free. Once more -I read to the household novels which were unpalatable to me, from the -"Neva" and the "Moscow Gazette"; but at night I occupied myself by -reading good books and by attempts at writing poetry.</p> - -<p>One day when the women had gone out to vespers and my master was kept -at home through indisposition, he asked me:</p> - -<p>"Victor is making fun of you because he says you write poetry, -Pyeshkov. Is that true? Well then, read it to me!"</p> - -<p>It would have been awkward to refuse, and I read several of my poetical -compositions. These evidently did not please him, but he said:</p> - -<p>"Stick to it! Stick to it! You may become a Pushkin; have you read -Pushkin?"</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"'Do the goblins have funeral rites?<br /> -Are the witches given in marriage?'"<br /> -</p> - -<p>In his time people still believed in goblins, but he did not believe -in them himself. Of course he was just joking.</p> - -<p>"Ye-es, brother," he drawled thoughtfully, "you ought to have been -taught, but now it is too late. The devil knows what will become of -you! I should hide that note-book of yours more carefully, for if the -women get hold of it, they will laugh at you. Women, brother, love to -touch one on a weak spot."</p> - -<p>For some time past my master had been quiet and thoughtful; he had -a trick of looking about him cautiously, and the sound of the bell -startled him. Sometimes he would give way to a painful irritability -about trifles, would scold us all, and rush out of the house, returning -drunk late at night. One felt that something had come into his life -which was known only to himself, which had lacerated his heart; and -that he was living not sensibly, or willingly, but simply by force of -habit.</p> - -<p>On Sundays from dinner-time till nine o'clock I was free to go out and -about, and the evenings I spent at a tavern in Yamski Street. The host, -a stout and always perspiring man, was passionately fond of singing, -and the chorister's of most of the churches knew this, and used to -frequent his house. He treated them with vodka, beer, or tea, for their -songs. The choristers were a drunken and uninteresting set of people; -they sang unwillingly, only for the sake of the hospitality, and -almost always it was church music. As certain of the pious drunkards -did not consider that the tavern was the place for them, the host -used to invite them to his private room, and I could only hear the -singing through the door. But frequently peasants from the villages, -and artisans came. The tavern-keeper himself used to go about the town -inquiring for singers, asking the peasants who came in on market-days, -and inviting them to his house.</p> - -<p>The singer was always given a chair close to the bar, his back to a -cask of vodka; his head was outlined against the bottom of the cask as -if it were in a round frame.</p> - -<p>The best singer of all—and they were always particularly good -singers—was the small, lean harness-maker, Kleshtchkov, who looked as -if he had been squeezed, and had tufts of red hair on his head. His -little nose gleamed like that of a corpse; his benign, dreamy eyes were -immovable.</p> - -<p>Sometimes he closed his eyes, leaned the back of his head against -the bottom of the cask, protruding his chest, and in his soft but -all-conquering tenor voice sang the quick moving:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Ekh! how the fog has fallen upon the clean fields already!<br /> -And has hidden the distant roads!"<br /> -</p> - -<p>Here he would stop, and resting his back against the bar, bending -backwards, went on, with his face raised toward the ceiling:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Ekh! where—where am I going?<br /> -Where shall I find the broad ro-oad?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>His voice was small like himself, but it was unwearied; he permeated -the dark, dull room of the tavern with silvery chords, melancholy -words. His groans and cries conquered every one; even the drunken ones -became amazedly surprised, gazing down in silence at the tables in -front of them. As for me, my heart was torn, and overflowed with those -mighty feelings which good music always arouses as it miraculously -touches the very depths of the soul.</p> - -<p>It was as quiet in the tavern as in a church, and the singer seemed -like a good priest, who did not preach, but with all his soul, and -honestly, prayed for the whole human family, thinking aloud, as it -were, of all the grievous calamities which beset human life. Bearded -men gazed upon him; childlike eyes blinked in fierce, wild faces; at -moments some one sighed, and this seemed to emphasize the triumphant -power of the music. At such times it always seemed to me that the lives -led by most people were unreal and meaningless, and that the reality of -life lay here.</p> - -<p>In the corner sat the fat-faced old-clothes dealer, Luissukha, a -repulsive female, a shameless, loose woman. She hid her head on her fat -shoulder and wept, furtively wiping the tears from her bold eyes. Not -far from her sat the gloomy chorister, Mitropolski, a hirsute young -fellow who looked like a degraded deacon, with great eyes set in his -drunken face. He gazed into the glass of vodka placed before him, took -it up, and raised it to his mouth, and then set it down again on the -table, carefully and noiselessly. For some reason he could not drink.</p> - -<p>And all the people in the tavern seemed to be glued to their places, as -if they were listening to something long forgotten, but once dear and -near to them.</p> - -<p>When Kleshtchkov, having finished his song, modestly sank down in the -chair, the tavern-keeper, giving him a glass of wine, would say with a -smile of satisfaction:</p> - -<p>"Well, that was very good, sure! Although you can hardly be said to -sing, so much as to recite! However, you are a master of it, whatever -they say! No one could say otherwise."</p> - -<p>Kleshtchkov, drinking his vodka without haste, coughed carefully and -said quietly:</p> - -<p>"Any one can sing if he has a voice, but to show what kind of soul the -song contains is only given to me."</p> - -<p>"Well, you need n't boast, anyhow."</p> - -<p>"He who has nothing to boast about, does not boast," said the singer as -quietly but more firmly than before.</p> - -<p>"You are conceited, Kleshtchkov!" exclaimed the host, annoyed.</p> - -<p>"One can't be more conceited than one's conscience allows."</p> - -<p>And from the corner the gloomy Mitropolski roared:</p> - -<p>"What do you know about the singing of this fallen angel, you worms, -you dirt!"</p> - -<p>He always opposed every one, argued with every one, brought accusations -against every one; and almost every Sunday he was cruelly punished for -this by one of the singers, or whoever else had a mind for the business.</p> - -<p>The tavern-keeper loved Kleshtchkov's singing, but he could not endure -the singer. He used to complain about him, and obviously sought -occasions to humiliate him and to make him ridiculous. This fact was -known to the frequenters of the tavern and to Kleshtchkov himself.</p> - -<p>"He is a good singer, but he is proud; he wants taking down," he said, -and several guests agreed with him.</p> - -<p>"That's true; he's a conceited fellow!"</p> - -<p>"What's he got to be conceited about? His voice? That comes from God; -he has nothing to do with it! And he hasn't a very powerful voice, has -he?" the tavern-keeper persisted.</p> - -<p>His audience agreed with him.</p> - -<p>"True, it is not so much his voice as his intelligence."</p> - -<p>One day after the singer had refreshed himself and gone away, the -tavern-keeper tried to persuade Luissukha.</p> - -<p>"Why don't you amuse yourself with Kleshtchkov for a bit, Marie -Evdokimova; you'd shake him up, wouldn't you? What would you want for -it?"</p> - -<p>"If I were younger," she said with a laugh.</p> - -<p>The tavern-keeper cried loudly and warmly:</p> - -<p>"What can the young ones do? But you—you will get hold of him! We -shall see him dancing round you! When he is bowed down by grief he will -be able to sing, won't he? Take him in hand, Evdokimova, and do me a -favor, will you?"</p> - -<p>But she would not do it. Large and fat, she lowered her eyes and played -with the fringe of the handkerchief which covered her bosom, as she -said in a monotonous, lazy drawl:</p> - -<p>"It's a young person that is needed here. If I were younger, well, I -would not think twice about it."</p> - -<p>Almost every night the tavern-keeper tried to make Kleshtchkov drunk, -but the latter, after two or three songs and a glassful after each, -would carefully wrap up his throat with a knitted scarf, draw his cap -well over his tufted head, and depart.</p> - -<p>The tavern-keeper often tried to find a rival for Kleshtchkov. The -harness-maker would sing a song and then the host, after praising him, -would say:</p> - -<p>"Here is another singer. Come along now, show what you can do!"</p> - -<p>Sometimes the singer had a good voice, but I do not remember an -occasion on which any of Kleshtchkov's rivals sang so simply and -soulfully as that little conceited harness-maker.</p> - -<p>"M—yes," said the tavern-keeper, not without regret, "it's good, -certainly! The chief thing is that it is a voice, but there's no soul -in it."</p> - -<p>The guests teased him:</p> - -<p>"No, you can't better the harness-maker, you see!"</p> - -<p>And Kleshtchkov, looking at them all from under his red, tufted -eyebrows, said to the tavern-keeper calmly and politely:</p> - -<p>"You waste your time. You will never find a singer with my gifts to set -up in opposition to me; my gift is from God."</p> - -<p>"We are all from God!"</p> - -<p>"You may ruin yourself by the drink you give, but you 'll never find -one."</p> - -<p>The tavern-keeper turned purple and muttered: "How do we know? How do -we know?"</p> - -<p>But Kleshtchkov pointed out to him firmly:</p> - -<p>"Again I tell you this is singing, not a cock-fight."</p> - -<p>"I know that! Why do you keep harping on it?"</p> - -<p>"I am not harping on it; I am simply pointing out something to you. If -a song is nothing but a diversion, it comes from the devil!"</p> - -<p>"All right! You'd better sing again."</p> - -<p>"I can always sing, even in my sleep," agreed Kleshtchkov, and -carefully clearing his throat he began to sing.</p> - -<p>And all nonsense, trashy talk, and ambitions vanished into smoke as -by a miracle; the refreshing streams of a different life, reflective, -pure, full of love and sadness, flowed over us all.</p> - -<p>I envied that man, envied intensely his talent and his power over -people. The way he took advantage of this power was so wonderful! I -wanted to make the acquaintance of the harness-maker, to hold a long -conversation with him, but I could not summon up courage to go to him.</p> - -<p>Kleshtchkov had such a strange way of looking at everybody with his -pale eyes, as if he could not see any one in front of him. But there -was something about him which offended me and prevented me from liking -him; and I wanted to like him for himself, not only when he was -singing. It was unpleasant to see him pull his cap over his head, like -an old man, and swathe his neck, just for show, in that red, knitted -scarf of which he said:</p> - -<p>"My little one knitted this; my only little girl."</p> - -<p>When he was not singing he pouted importantly, rubbed his dead, frozen -nose with his fingers, and answered questions in monosyllables, and -unwillingly. When I approached him and asked him something, he looked -at me and said:</p> - -<p>"Go away, lad!"</p> - -<p>I much preferred the chorister, Mitropolski. When he appeared in the -tavern, he would walk into his corner with the gait of a man carrying -a heavy load, move a chair away with the toe of his boot, and sit down -with his elbows on the table, resting his large shaggy head on his -hands. After he had drunk two or three glasses in silence, he would -utter a resounding cry. Every one would start and look towards him, -but with his chin in his hands he gazed at them defiantly, his mane of -unbrushed hair wildly surrounding his puffy, sallow face.</p> - -<p>"What are you looking at? What do you see?" he would ask with sudden -passion.</p> - -<p>Sometimes they replied:</p> - -<p>"We are looking at a werwolf."</p> - -<p>There were evenings on which he drank in silence, and in silence -departed, heavily dragging his feet. Several times I heard him denounce -people, playing the prophet:</p> - -<p>"I am the incorruptible servant of my God, and I denounce you. Behold -Isaiah! Woe to the town of Ariel. Come, ye wicked, and ye rogues, and -all kinds of dark monstrosities living in the mire of your own base -desires! Woe to the ships of this world, for they carry lewd people on -their sinful way. I know you, drunkards, gluttons, dregs of this world; -there is no time appointed for you. Accursed ones, the very earth -refuses to receive you into her womb!"</p> - -<p>His voice resounded so that the window-panes shook, which delighted his -audience. They praised the prophet:</p> - -<p>"He barks finely, the shaggy cur!"</p> - -<p>It was easy to become acquainted with him; it cost no more than to -offer him hospitality; he required a decanter of vodka and a portion of -ox liver. When I asked him to tell me what kind of books one ought to -read, he answered me with stubborn ferocity by another question:</p> - -<p>"Why read at all?"</p> - -<p>But mollified by my confusion, he added in ringing tones:</p> - -<p>"Have you read Ecclesiastes?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Read Ecclesiastes. You need nothing more. There is all the wisdom of -the world, only there are sheep who do not understand it; that is to -say, no one understands it. Can you sing at all?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Why? You ought to sing. It is <i>the</i> most ridiculous way of passing -time."</p> - -<p>Some one asked him from an adjacent table:</p> - -<p>"But you sing yourself?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; but I am a vagrant. Well?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing."</p> - -<p>"That is nothing new. Every one knows that there is nothing in that -blockhead of yours, and there never will be anything. Amen!"</p> - -<p>In this tone he was in the habit of speaking to me and to every one -else, although after the second or third time of my treating him, he -began to be more gentle with me. One day he actually said with a shade -of surprise:</p> - -<p>"I look at you and I cannot make out what you are, who are you, or why -you are! But whatever you are, may the devil take you!"</p> - -<p>He behaved in an incomprehensible manner to Kleshtchkov. He listened -to him with manifest enjoyment sometimes even with a benign smile, but -he would not make closer acquaintance with him, and spoke about him -coarsely and contemptuously.</p> - -<p>"That barber's block! He knows how to breathe, he understands what to -sing about, but for the rest, he is an ass."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Like all his kind."</p> - -<p>I should have liked to talk with him when he was sober, but when sober -he only bellowed, and looked upon all the world with misty, dull eyes. -I learned from some one that this permanently inebriated man had -studied in the Kazan Academy, and might have become a prelate. I did -not believe this. But one day when I was telling him about myself, I -recalled the name of the bishop, Chrisanph. He tossed his head and said:</p> - -<p>"Chrisanph? I know him. He was my tutor and benefactor. At Kazan, in -the academy, I remember! Chrisanph means 'golden flower.' Yes, that was -a true saying of Pavm Beruind. Yes, he was a flower of gold, Chrisanph!"</p> - -<p>"And who is Pavm Beruind?" I added, but Mitropolski replied shortly:</p> - -<p>"That is none of your business."</p> - -<p>When I reached home I wrote in my note-book, "I must read the works of -Pavm Beruind." I felt, somehow, that I should find therein the answers -to many questions which perplexed me.</p> - -<p>The singer was very fond of using names which were unknown to me, and -curiously coined words. This irritated me greatly.</p> - -<p>"Life is not <i>aniso</i>," he said.</p> - -<p>"What is <i>aniso?"</i> I asked.</p> - -<p>"Something advantageous to you," he answered, and my perplexity amused -him.</p> - -<p>These little sayings, and the fact that he had studied in the academy, -led me to think that he knew a great deal, and I was offended with him -for not speaking of his knowledge, or if he did allude to it, being -so unintelligible. Or was it that I had no right to ask him? However, -he left an impression on my mind. I liked the drunken boldness of his -denunciations, which were modelled on those of the prophet Isaias.</p> - -<p>"Oh, unclean and vile ones of earth!" he roared, "the worst among you -are famous, and the best are persecuted. The day of judgment draws -nigh. You will repent then, but it will be too late, too late!"</p> - -<p>As I listened to his roar, I remembered "Good Business," the laundress -Natalia, ruined so hideously and easily, Queen Margot, wrapped in a -cloud of dirty scandal. I already had some memories!</p> - -<p>My brief acquaintance with this man finished curiously.</p> - -<p>I met him in the spring, in the fields near the camp. He was -walking like a camel, moving his head from side to side, solitary, -bloated-looking.</p> - -<p>"Going for a walk?" he asked hoarsely. "Let us go together. I also am -taking a walk. I am ill, Brother; yes."</p> - -<p>We walked some yards without speaking, when suddenly we saw a man in a -pit which had been made under a tent. He was sitting in the bottom of -the pit, leaning on one side, his shoulder resting against the side of -the trench. His coat was drawn up on one side above his ear, as if he -had been trying to take it off and had not succeeded.</p> - -<p>"Drunk," decided the singer, coming to a standstill.</p> - -<p>But on the young grass under the man's arm lay a large revolver, not -far from him lay a cap, and beside it stood a bottle of vodka, hardly -begun. Its empty neck was buried in the long grass. The face of the man -was hidden by his overcoat, as if he were ashamed.</p> - -<p>For a moment we stood in silence. Then Mitropolski, planting his feet -wide apart, said:</p> - -<p>"He has shot himself."</p> - -<p>Then I understood that the man was not drunk, but dead, but it came -upon me so suddenly that I could not believe it. I remember that I felt -neither fear nor pity as I looked at that large, smooth skull, visible -above the overcoat, and on that livid ear. I could not believe that a -man would kill himself on such a pleasant spring day.</p> - -<p>The singer rubbed his unshaven cheeks with his hand, as if he were -cold, and said hoarsely:</p> - -<p>"He is an oldish man. Perhaps his wife has left him, or he has made off -with money not belonging to him."</p> - -<p>He sent me into the town to fetch the police, and himself sat down on -the edge of the pit, letting his feet hang over, wrapping his worn -overcoat closely round him. Having informed the police of the suicide, -I ran back quickly, but in the meantime the chorister had drunk the -dead man's vodka, and came to meet me, waving the empty bottle.</p> - -<p>"This is what ruined him," he cried, and furiously dashing the bottle -to the ground, smashed it to atoms.</p> - -<p>The town constable had followed me. He looked into the pit, took off -his hat, and crossing himself indecisively, asked the singer:</p> - -<p>"Who may you be?"</p> - -<p>"That is not your business."</p> - -<p>The policeman reflected, and then asked more politely:</p> - -<p>"What account do you give of yourself, then? Here is a dead man, and -here are you, drunk!"</p> - -<p>"I have been drunk for twenty years!" said the singer proudly, striking -his chest with the palm of his hand.</p> - -<p>I felt sure that they would arrest him for drinking the vodka. People -came rushing from the town; a severe-looking police inspector cartie in -a cab, descended into the pit, and, lifting aside the overcoat of the -suicide, looked into his face.</p> - -<p>"Who saw him first?"</p> - -<p>"I," said Mitropolski.</p> - -<p>The inspector looked at him and drawled ominously:</p> - -<p>"A-ah! Congratulations, my lord!"</p> - -<p>Sightseers began to gather round; there were a dozen or so of people. -Panting, excited, they surrounded the pit and looked down into it, and -one of them cried:</p> - -<p>"It is a <i>chinovnik</i> who lives in our street; I know him!"</p> - -<p>The singer, swaying, with his cap off, stood before the inspector, and -argued with him inarticulately, shouting something indistinctly. Then -the inspector struck him in the chest. He reeled and sat down, and the -policeman without haste took some string from his pocket and bound the -hands of the singer. He folded them meekly behind his back, as if he -were used to this procedure. Then the inspector began to shout angrily -to the crowd:</p> - -<p>"Be off, now!"</p> - -<p>After this there came another, older policeman, with moist, red eyes, -his mouth hanging open from weariness, and he took hold of the end of -the cord with which the singer was bound, and gently led him into the -town. I also went away dejected from the field. Through my memory, like -a dull echo, rang the avenging words:</p> - -<p>"Woe to the town Ariel!"</p> - -<p>And before my eyes rose that depressing spectacle of the policeman -slowly drawing the string from the pocket of his ulster, and the -awe-inspiring prophet meekly folding his red, hairy hands behind his -back, and crossing his wrists as if he were used to it.</p> - -<p>I soon heard that the prophet had been sent out of the town. And after -him, Kleshtchkov disappeared; he had married well, and had gone to live -in a district where a harness-maker's workshop had been opened.</p> - -<p>I had praised his singing so warmly to my master that he said one day:</p> - -<p>"I must go and hear him!"</p> - -<p>And so one night he sat at a little table opposite to me, raising his -brows in astonishment, his eyes wide open.</p> - -<p>On the way to the tavern he had made fun of me, and during the first -part of the time he was in the tavern, he was railing at me, at -the people there, and at the stuffy smell of the place. When the -harness-maker began to sing he smiled derisively, and began to pour -himself a glass of beer, but he stopped half-way, saying:</p> - -<p>"Who the devil—?"</p> - -<p>His hand trembled; he set the bottle down gently, and began to listen -with intentness.</p> - -<p>"Ye-es, Brother," he said with a sigh, when Kleshtchkov had finished -singing, "he can sing! The devil take him! He has even made the air -hot."</p> - -<p>The harness-maker sang again, with his head back, gazing up at the -ceiling:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"On the road from the flourishing village<br /> -A young girl came over the dewy fields."<br /> -</p> - -<p>"He can sing," muttered my master, shaking his head and smiling.</p> - -<p>And Kleshtchkov poured forth his song, clear as the music of a reed:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"And the beautiful maiden answered him:<br /> -'An orphan am I, no one wants me.'"<br /> -</p> - -<p>"Good!" whispered my master, blinking his reddening eyes. "Phew! it is -devilish good!"</p> - -<p>I looked at him and rejoiced, and the sobbing words of the song -conquered the noise of the tavern, sounded more powerful, more -beautiful, more touching every moment.</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -I live solitary in our village.<br /> -A young girl am I; they never ask me out.<br /> -Oie, poor am I, my dress it is not fine;<br /> -I am not fit, I know, for a brave young man.<br /> -A widower would marry me to do his work;<br /> -I do not wish to bow myself to such a fate.<br /> -</p> - -<p>My master wept undisguisedly; he sat with his head bent; his prominent -nose twitched, and tears splashed on his knees. After the third song, -agitated and dishevelled, he said:</p> - -<p>"I can't sit here any longer; I shall be stifled with these odors. Let -us go home."</p> - -<p>But when we were in the street he said:</p> - -<p>"Come along, Pyeshkov, let us go to a restaurant and have something to -eat. I don't want to go home!"</p> - -<p>He hailed a sledge, without haggling about the charge, and said nothing -while we were on the way, but in the restaurant, after taking a table -in a corner, he began at once in an undertone, looking about him the -while, to complain angrily.</p> - -<p>"He has thoroughly upset me, that goat; to such a state of melancholy -he has driven me! Here you are—you read and think about things—just -tell me now, what the devil is the use of it all? One lives; forty -years pass by; one has a wife and children, and no one to talk to! -There are times when I want to unburden my soul, to talk to some one -about all sorts of things, but there is no one I can talk to. I can't -talk to my wife; I have nothing in common with her. What is she, after -all? She has her children and the house; that's her business. She is a -stranger to my soul. A wife is your friend till the first child comes. -In fact, she is—on the whole—Well, you can see for yourself she does -not dance to my piping. Flesh without spirit, the devil take you! It is -a grief to me, Brother."</p> - -<p>He drank the cold, bitter beer feverishly, was silent for a time, -ruffling his long hair, and then he went on:</p> - -<p>"Human creatures are riff-raff for the most part, Brother! There -you are, for instance, talking to the workmen. Oh yes, I understand -there is a lot of trickery, and baseness; it is true, Brother; they -are thieves all of them! But do you think that what you say makes -any difference to them! Not an atom! No! They are all—Petr, Osip as -well—rogues! They speak about me, and you speak for me, and all—what -is the use of it, Brother?"</p> - -<p>I was dumb from sheer amazement.</p> - -<p>"That's it!" said my master, smiling. "You were right to think of going -to Persia. There you would understand nothing; it is a foreign language -they speak there! But in your own language you 'll hear nothing but -baseness!"</p> - -<p>"Has Osip been telling you about me?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Well, yes! But what did you expect? He talks more than any of them; he -is a gossip. He is a sly creature, Brother! No, Pyeshkov, words don't -touch them. Am I not right? And what the devil is the use of it? And -what the devil difference does it make? None! It is like snow in the -autumn, falling in the mud and melting. It only makes more mud. You had -far better hold your tongue."</p> - -<p>He drank glass after glass of beer. He did not get drunk, but he talked -more and more quickly and fiercely.</p> - -<p>"The proverb says, 'Speech is silver, silence is golden.' Ekh, Brother, -it is all sorrow, sorrow! He sang truly, 'Solitary I live in our -village.' Human life is all loneliness."</p> - -<p>He glanced round, lowered his voice, and continued:</p> - -<p>"And I had found a friend after my own heart. There was a woman -who happened to be alone, as good as a widow; her husband had been -condemned to Siberia for coining money, and was in prison there. I -became acquainted with her; she was penniless; it was that, you know, -which led to our acquaintance. I looked at her and thought, 'What a -nice little person!' Pretty, you know, young, simply wonderful. I saw -her once or twice, and then I said to her: 'Your husband is a rogue. -You are not living honestly yourself. Why do you want to go to Siberia -after him?' But she would follow him into exile. She said to me: -'Whatever he is, I love him; he is good to me! It may be that it was -for me he sinned. I have sinned with you. For' his sake,' she said, 'I -had to have money; he is a gentleman and accustomed to live well. If I -had been single,' she said, 'I should have lived honorably. You are a -good man, too,' she said, 'and I like you very much, but don't talk to -me about this again.' The devil! I gave her all I had—eighty rubles or -thereabouts—and I said: 'You must pardon me, but I cannot see you any -more. I cannot!' And I left her—and that's how—"</p> - -<p>He was silent, and then he suddenly became drunk. He sank into a -huddled-up heap and muttered:</p> - -<p>"Six times I went to see her. You can't understand what it was like! I -might have gone to her flat six more times, but I could not make up my -mind to it. I could not! Now she has gone away."</p> - -<p>He laid his hands on the table, and in a whisper, moving his fingers, -said:</p> - -<p>"God grant I never meet her again! God grant it! Then it would be going -to the devil! Let us go home. Come!"</p> - -<p>We went. He staggered along, muttering:</p> - -<p>"That's how it is, Brother."</p> - -<p>I was not surprised by the story he had told me; I had long ago guessed -that something unusual had happened to him. But I was greatly depressed -by what he had said about life, and more by what he had said about -Osip.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h5><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></h5> - - -<p>I lived three years as overseer in that dead town, amid empty -buildings, watching the workmen pull down clumsy stone shops in the -autumn, and rebuild them in the same way in the spring.</p> - -<p>The master took great care that I should earn his five rubles. If the -floor of a shop had to be laid again, I had to remove earth from the -whole area to the depth of one arshin. The dock laborers were paid -a ruble for this work, but I received nothing; and while I was thus -occupied, I had no time to look after the carpenters, who unscrewed -the locks and handles from the doors and committed petty thefts of all -kinds.</p> - -<p>Both the workmen and the contractors tried in every way to cheat me, -to steal something, and they did it almost openly, as if they were -performing an unpleasant duty; were not in the least indignant when I -accused them, but were merely amazed.</p> - -<p>"You make as much fuss over five rubles as you would over twenty. It is -funny to hear you!"</p> - -<p>I pointed out to my master that, while he saved one ruble by my labor, -he lost ten times more in this way, but he merely blinked at me and -said:</p> - -<p>"That will do! You are making that up!"</p> - -<p>I understood that he suspected me of conniving at the thefts, which -aroused in me a feeling of repulsion towards him, but I was not -offended. In that class of life they all steal, and even the master -liked to take what did not belong to him.</p> - -<p>When, after the fair, he looked into one of the shops which he was to -rebuild, and saw a forgotten samovar, a piece of crockery, a carpet, or -a pair of scissors which had been forgotten, even sometimes a case, or -some merchandise, my master would say, smiling:</p> - -<p>"Make a list of the things and take them all to the store-room."</p> - -<p>And he would take them home with him from the store-room, telling me -sometimes to cross them off the list.</p> - -<p>I did not love "things"; I had no desire to possess them; even books -were an embarrassment to me. I had none of my own, save the little -volumes of Béranger and the songs of Heine. I should have liked to -obtain Pushkin, but the book-dealer in the town was an evil old man, -who asked a great deal too much for Pushkin's works. The furniture, -carpets, and mirrors, which bulked so largely in my master's house, -gave me no pleasure, irritated me by their melancholy clumsiness and -smell of paint and lacquer. Most of all I disliked the mistress's -room, which reminded me of a trunk packed with all kinds of useless, -superfluous objects. And I was disgusted with my master for bringing -home other people's things from the storehouse. Queen Margot's rooms -had been cramped too, but they were beautiful in spite of it.</p> - -<p>Life, on the whole, seemed to me to be a disconnected, absurd affair; -there was too much of the obviously stupid about it. Here we were -building shops which the floods inundated in the spring, soaking -through the floors, making the outer doors hang crooked. When the -waters subsided the joists had begun to rot. Annually the water had -overflowed the market-place for the last ten years, spoiling the -buildings and the bridges. These yearly floods did enormous damage, and -yet they all knew that the waters would not be diverted of themselves.</p> - -<p>Each spring the breaking of the ice cut up the barges, and dozens of -small vessels. The people groaned and built new ones, which the ice -again broke. It was like a ridiculous treadmill whereon one remains -always in the same place. I asked Osip about it. He looked amazed, and -then laughed.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you heron! What a young heron he is! What is it to do with you at -all? What is it to you, eh?"</p> - -<p>But then he spoke more gravely, although he could not extinguish the -light of merriment in his pale blue eyes, which had a clearness not -belonging to old age.</p> - -<p>"That's a very intelligent observation! Let us suppose that the affair -does not concern you; all the same it may be worth something to you to -understand it. Take this case, for example—"</p> - -<p>And he related in a dry speech, interspersed lavishly with quaint -sayings, unusual comparisons, and all kinds of drollery:</p> - -<p>"Here is a case where people are to be pitied; they have only a little -land, and in the springtime the Volga overflows its banks, carries away -the earth, and lays it upon its own sand-banks. Then others complain -that the bed of the Volga is choked up. The springtime streams and -summer rains tear up the gulleys, and again earth is carried away to -the river."</p> - -<p>He spoke without either pity or malice, but as if he enjoyed his -knowledge of the miseries of life, and although his words were in -agreement with my own ideas, yet it was unpleasant to listen to them.</p> - -<p>"Take another instance; fires."</p> - -<p>I don't think I can remember a summer when the forests beyond the Volga -did not catch fire. Every July the sky was clouded by a muddy yellow -smoke; the leaden sun, all its brightness gone, looked down on the -earth like a bad eye.</p> - -<p>"As for forests, who cares about them?" said Osip. "They all belong to -the nobles, or the crown; the peasants don't own them. And if towns -catch fire, that is not a very serious business either. Rich people -live in towns; they are not to be pitied. But take the villages. How -many villages are burned down every summer? Not less than a hundred, I -should think; that's a serious loss!"</p> - -<p>He laughed softly.</p> - -<p>"Some people have property and don't know how to manage it, and between -ourselves, a man has to work not so much on his own behalf, or on the -land, as against fire and water."</p> - -<p>"Why do you laugh?"</p> - -<p>"Why not? You won't put a fire out with your tears, nor will they make -the floods more mighty."</p> - -<p>I knew that this handsome old man was more clever than any one I had -met; but what were his real sympathies and antipathies? I was thinking -about this all the time he was adding his little dry sayings to my -store.</p> - -<p>"Look round you, and see how little people preserve their own, or -other people's strength. How your master squanders yours! And how much -does water cost in a village? Reflect a little; it is better than any -cleverness which comes from learning. If a peasant's hut is burned, -another one can be put up in its place, but when a worthy peasant loses -his sight, you can't set that right! Look at Ardalon, for example, -or Grisha; see how a man can break out! A foolish fellow, the first, -but Grisha is a man of understanding. He smokes like a hayrick. Women -attacked him, as worms attack a murdered man in a wood."</p> - -<p>I asked him without anger, merely out of curiosity:</p> - -<p>"Why did you go and tell the master about my ideas?"</p> - -<p>He answered calmly, even kindly:</p> - -<p>"So that he might know what harmful ideas you have. It was necessary, -in order that he may teach you better ones. Who should teach you, if -not he? I did not speak to him out of malice, but out of pity for you. -You are not a stupid lad, but the devil is racking your brain. If I had -caught you stealing, or running after the girls, or drinking, I should -have held my tongue. But I shall always repeat all your wild talk to -the master; so now you know."</p> - -<p>"I won't talk to you, then!"</p> - -<p>He was silent, scratching the resin off his hands with his nails. Then -he looked at me with an expression of affection and said:</p> - -<p>"That you will! To whom else will you talk? There is no one else."</p> - -<p>Clean and neat, Osip at times reminded me of the stoker, Yaakov, -absolutely indifferent to every one. Sometimes he reminded me of the -valuer, Petr Vassiliev, sometimes of the drayman, Petr; occasionally -he revealed a trait which was like grandfather. In one way or another -he was like all the old men I had known. They were all amazingly -interesting old men, but I felt that it was impossible to live with -them; it would be oppressive and repulsive. They had corroded their own -hearts, as it were; their clever speeches hid hearts red with rust. Was -Osip good-hearted? No. Malevolent? Also no. That he was clever was all -that was clear to me. But while it astounded me by its pliability, that -intelligence of his deadened me, and the end of it was that I felt he -was inimical to me in all kinds of ways.</p> - -<p>In my heart seethed the black thoughts:</p> - -<p>"All human creatures are strangers to one another despite their sweet -words and smiles. And more; we are all strangers on the earth, too; no -one seems to be bound to it by a powerful feeling of love. Grandmother -alone loved to be alive, and loved all creatures—grandmother and -gracious Queen Margot.</p> - -<p>Sometimes these and similar thoughts increased the density of the dark -fog around me. Life had become suffocating and oppressive; but how -could I live a different life? Whither could I go? I had no one to -talk to, even, except Osip, and I talked to him more and more often. -He listened to my heated babbling with evident interest, asked me -questions, drove home a point, and said calmly:</p> - -<p>"The persistent woodpecker is not terrible; no one is afraid of him. -But with all my heart I advise you to go into a monastery and live -there till you are grown up. You will have edifying conversations with -holy men to console you, you will be at peace, and you will be a source -of revenue to the monks. That's my sincere advice to you. It is evident -that you are not fit for worldly business."</p> - -<p>I had no desire to enter a monastery, but I felt that I was -being entangled and bewildered in the enchanted circle, of the -incomprehensible. I was miserable. Life for me was like a forest in -autumn. The mushrooms had come and gone, there was nothing to do in the -empty forest, and I seemed to know all there was to know in it.</p> - -<p>I did not drink vodka, and I had nothing to do with girls; books took -the place of these two forms of intoxication for me. But the more I -read, the harder it was for me to go on living the empty, unnecessary -life that most people lived.</p> - -<p>I had only just turned fifteen years of age, but sometimes I felt like -an elderly man. I was, as it were, inwardly swollen and heavy with all -I had lived through and read, or restlessly pondered. Looking into -myself, I discovered that my receptacle for impressions was like a dark -lumber-room closely packed with all kinds of things, of which I had -neither the strength nor the wit to rid myself.</p> - -<p>And although they were so numerous, all these cumbersome articles were -not solidly packed, but floated about, and made me waver as water makes -a piece of crockery waver which does not stand firm.</p> - -<p>I had a fastidious dislike of unhappiness, illness, and grievances. -When I saw cruelty, blood, fights even verbal baiting of a person, it -aroused a physical repulsion in me which was swiftly transformed into a -cold fury. This made me fight myself, like a wild beast, after which I -would be painfully ashamed of myself.</p> - -<p>Sometimes I was so passionately desirous of beating a bully that I -threw myself blindly into a fight, and even now I remember those -attacks of despair, born of my impotence, with shame and grief.</p> - -<p>Within me dwelt two persons. One was cognizant of only too many -abominations and obscenities, somewhat timid for that reason, was -crushed by the knowledge of everyday horrors, and had begun to view -life and people distrustfully, contemptuously, with a feeble pity for -every one, including himself. This person dreamed of a quiet, solitary -life with books, without people, of monasteries, of a forest-keeper's -lodge, a railway signal box, of Persia, and the office of the night -watchman somewhere on the outskirts of the town. Only to see fewer -people, to be remote from human creatures!</p> - -<p>The other person, baptized by the holy spirit of noble and wise books, -observing the overwhelming strength of the daily horrors of life, felt -how easily that strength might sap one's brain-power, trample the heart -with dirty footprints, and, fighting against it with all his force, -with clenched teeth and fists, was always ready for a quarrel or a -fight. He loved and pitied actively, and, like the brave hero in French -novels, drew his sword from his scabbard on the slightest provocation, -and stood in a warlike position.</p> - -<p>At that time I had a bitter enemy in the door-keeper of one of the -brothels in Little Pokrovski Street. I made his acquaintance one -morning as I was going to the market-place; he was dragging from -a hackney-carriage, standing at the gate in front of the house, a -girl who was dead drunk. He seized her by the legs in their wrinkled -stockings, and thus held her shamelessly, bare to the waist, exclaiming -and laughing. He spat upon her body, and she came down with a jolt out -of the carriage, dishevelled, blind, with open mouth, with her soft -arms hanging behind her as if they had no joints. Her spine, the back -of her neck, and her livid face struck the seat of the carriage and the -step, and at length she fell on the pavement, striking her head on the -stones.</p> - -<p>The driver whipped up his horse and drove off, and the porter, taking -one foot in each hand and stepping backward, dragged her along as if -she had been a corpse. I lost control of myself and made a rush at him, -but as luck would have it, I hurled myself against, or accidentally -ran into a rainwater-barrel, which saved both the porter and me a -great deal of unpleasantness. Striking him on the rebound, I knocked -him over, darted up the steps, and desperately pulled the bell-handle. -Some infuriated people rushed on the scene, and as I could not explain -anything, I went away, picking up the barrel.</p> - -<p>On the way I overtook the cab. The driver looked down at me from the -coach-box and said:</p> - -<p>"You knocked him over smartly."</p> - -<p>I asked him angrily how he could allow the porter to make sport of the -girl, and he replied calmly, with a fastidious air:</p> - -<p>"As for me, let them go to the dogs! A gentleman paid me when he put -her in my cab. What is it to me if one person beats another?"</p> - -<p>"And if he had killed her?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, well; you soon kill that sort!" said the driver, as if he had -repeatedly tried to kill drunken girls.</p> - -<p>After that I saw the porter nearly every day. When I passed up the -street he would be sweeping the pavement, or sitting on the steps as if -he were waiting for me. As I approached him he would stand up, tuck up -his sleeves, and announce kindly:</p> - -<p>"I am going to smash you to atoms now!"</p> - -<p>He was over forty, small, bow-legged, with a pendulous paunch. When he -laughed he looked at me with beaming eyes, and it was terribly strange -to me to see that they were kind and merry. He could not fight, because -his arms were shorter than mine, and after two or three turns he let -me go, leaned his back against the gate, and said, apparently in great -surprise:</p> - -<p>"All right; you wait, clever!"</p> - -<p>These fights bored me, and one day I said to him: "Listen, fool! Why -don't you let me alone?"</p> - -<p>"Why do you fight, then?" he asked reproachfully. I asked him in turn -why he had maltreated the girl. "What did it matter to you? Are you -sorry for her?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I am!"</p> - -<p>He was silent, rubbing his lips, and then asked:</p> - -<p>"And would you be sorry for a cat?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I should."</p> - -<p>Then he said:</p> - -<p>"You are a fool, rascal! Wait; I'll show you something."</p> - -<p>I never could avoid passing up that street—it was the shortest -way—but I began to get up earlier, in order not to meet the man. -However, in a few days I saw him again, sitting on the steps and -stroking a smoke-colored cat which lay on his knees. When I was about -three paces from him he jumped up, seized the cat by the legs, and -dashed its head against the stone balustrade, so that I was splashed -with the warm blood. He then hurled the cat under my feet and stood at -the gate, crying:</p> - -<p>"What now?"</p> - -<p>What could I do? We rolled about the yard like two curs, and afterward, -as I sat on a grassy slope, nearly crazy with inexpressible grief, I -bit my lips to keep myself from howling. When I remember it I shiver -with a feeling of sickening repulsion, amazed that I did not go out of -my mind and kill some one.</p> - -<p>Why do I relate these abominations? So that you may know, kind sirs, -that is not all past and done with! You have a liking for grim -fantasies; you are delighted with horrible stories well told; the -grotesquely terrible excites you pleasantly. But I know of genuine -horrors, everyday terrors, and I have an undeniable right to excite you -unpleasantly by telling you about them, in order that you may remember -how w? live, and under what circumstances. A low and unclean life it -is, ours, and that is the truth!</p> - -<p>I am a lover of humanity and I have no desire to make any one -miserable, but one must not be sentimental, nor hide the grim truth -with the motley words of beautiful lies. Let us face life as it is! -All that is good and human in our hearts and brains needs renewing. -What went to my head most of all was the attitude of the average man -toward women. From my reading of novels I had learned to look upon -woman as the best and most significant thing in life. Grandmother had -strengthened me in this belief by her stories about Our Lady and -Vassilissia the Wise. What I knew of the unhappy laundress, Natalia, -and those hundred and thousands of glances and smiles which I observed, -with which women, the mothers of life, adorn this life of sordid joys, -sordid loves, also helped me.</p> - -<p>The books of Turgenieff sang the praises of woman, and with all the -good I knew about women I had adorned the image of Queen Margot in my -memory. Heine and Turgenieff especially gave me much that was precious -for this purpose.</p> - -<p>In the evenings as I was returning from the marketplace I used to -halt on the hill by the walls of the Kreml and look at the sun -setting beyond the Volga. Fiery streams flowed over the heavens; the -terrestrial, beloved river had turned purple and blue. Sometimes in -such moments the land looked like an enormous convict barge; it had the -appearance of a pig being lazily towed along by an invisible steamer.</p> - -<p>But I thought more often of the great world, of towns which I had -read about, of foreign countries where people lived in a different -manner. Writers of other countries depicted life as cleaner, more -attractive, less burdensome than that life which seethed sluggishly -and monotonously around me. This thought calmed my disturbed spirit, -aroused visions of the possibility of a different life for me.</p> - -<p>And I felt that I should meet some simple-minded, wise man who would -lead me on that broad, bright road.</p> - -<p>One day as I sat on a bench by the walls of the Kreml my Uncle Yaakov -appeared at my side. I had not noticed his approach, and I did not -recognize him at once. Although we had lived in the same town during -several years, we had met seldom, and then only accidentally and for a -mere glimpse of each other.</p> - -<p>"Ekh! how you have stretched out!" he said jestingly, and we fell to -talking like two people long acquainted but not intimate.</p> - -<p>From what grandmother had told me I knew that Uncle Yaakov had spent -those years in quarrelling and idleness; he had had a situation as -assistant warder at the local goal, but his term of service ended -badly. The chief warder being ill, Uncle Yaakov arranged festivities -in his own quarters for the convicts. This was discovered, and he was -dismissed and handed over to the police on the charge of having let the -prisoners out to "take a walk" in the town at night. None of them had -escaped, but one was caught in the act of trying to throttle a certain -deacon. The business dragged on for a long time, but the matter never -came into court; the convicts and the warders were able to exculpate my -good uncle. But now he lived without working on the earnings of his son -who sang in the church choir at Rukavishnikov, which was famous at that -time. He spoke oddly of this son:</p> - -<p>"He has become very solemn and important! He is a soloist. He gets -angry if the samovar is not ready to time, or if his clothes are not -brushed. A very dapper fellow he is, and clean."</p> - -<p>Uncle himself had aged considerably; he looked grubby and fallen away. -His gay, curly locks had grown very scanty, and his ears stuck out; in -the whites of his eyes and on the leathery skin of his shaven cheeks -there appeared thick, red veins. He spoke jestingly, but it seemed -as if there were something in his mouth which impeded his utterance, -although his teeth were sound.</p> - -<p>I was glad to have the chance of talking to a man who knew how to live -well, had seen much, and must therefore know much. I well remembered -his lively, comical songs and grandfather's words about him:</p> - -<p>"In songs he is King David, but in business he plots evil, like -Absalom!"</p> - -<p>On the promenade a well-dressed crowd passed and repassed: luxuriously -attired gentlemen, <i>chinovniks</i>, officers; uncle was dressed in a -shabby, autumn overcoat, a battered cap, and brown boots, and was -visibly pricked by annoyance at the thought of his own costume. We went -into one of the public-houses on the Pochainski Causeway, taking a -table near the window which opened on the market-place.</p> - -<p>"Do you remember how you sang:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"'A beggar hung his leggings to dry,<br /> -And another beggar came and stole them away'?"<br /> -</p> - -<p>When I had uttered the words of the song, I felt for the first time -their mocking meaning, and it seemed to me that my gay uncle was -both witty and malicious. But he, pouring vodka into a glass, said -thoughtfully:</p> - -<p>"Well, I am getting on in years, and I have made very little of my -life. That song is not mine; it was composed by a teacher in the -seminary. What was his name now? He is dead; I have forgotten. We were -great friends. He was a bachelor. He died in his sleep, in a fit. How -many people have gone to sleep that I can remember? It would be hard -to count them. You don't drink? That is right; don't! Do you see your -grandfather often? He is not a happy old man. I believe he is going out -of his mind."</p> - -<p>After a few drinks he became more lively, held himself up, looked -younger, and began to speak with more animation. I asked him for the -story of the convicts.</p> - -<p>"You heard about it?" he inquired, and with a glance around, and -lowering his voice, he said;</p> - -<p>"What about the convicts? I was not their judge, you know; I saw them -merely as human creatures, and I said: 'Brothers, let us live together -in harmony, let us live happily! There is a song,' I said, 'which runs -like this:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Imprisonment to happiness is no bar,<br /> -Let them do with us as they will!<br /> -Still we shall live for sake of laughter,<br /> -He is a fool who lives otherwise."<br /> -</p> - -<p>He laughed, glanced out of the window on the darkening causeway, and -continued, smoothing his whiskers:</p> - -<p>"Of course they were dull in that prison, and as soon as the roll-call -was over, they came to me. We had vodka and dainties, sometimes -provided by me, sometimes by themselves. I love songs and dancing, and -among them were some excellent singers and dancers. It was astonishing! -Some of them, were in fetters, and it was no calumny to say that I -undid their chains; it is true. But bless you, they knew how to take -them off by themselves without a blacksmith; they are a handy lot of -people; it is astonishing! But to say that I let them wander about the -town to rob people is rubbish, and it was never proved!"</p> - -<p>He was silent, gazing out of the window on the causeway where the -merchants were shutting up their chests of goods; iron bars rattled, -rusty hinges creaked, some boards fell with a resounding crash. Then -winking at me gaily, he continued in a low voice:</p> - -<p>"To speak the truth, one of them did really go out at night, only -he was not one of the fettered ones, but simply a local thief from -the lower end of the town; his sweetheart lived not far away on the -Pechorka. And the affair with the deacon happened through a mistake; he -took the deacon for a merchant. It was a winter night, in a snowstorm; -everybody was wearing a fur coat; how could he tell the difference in -his haste between a deacon and a merchant?"</p> - -<p>This struck me as being funny, and he laughed himself as he said:</p> - -<p>"Yes, by gad! It was the very devil—"</p> - -<p>Here my uncle became unexpectedly and strangely angry. He pushed away -his plate of savories, frowned with an expression of loathing, and, -smoking a cigarette, muttered:</p> - -<p>"They rob one another; then they catch one another and put one another -away in prisons in Siberia, in the galleys; but what is it to do with -me? I spit upon them all! I have my own soul!"</p> - -<p>The shaggy stoker stood before me; he also had been wont to "spit upon" -people, and he also was called Yaakov.</p> - -<p>"What are you thinking about?" asked my uncle softly.</p> - -<p>"Were you sorry for the convicts?"</p> - -<p>"It is easy to pity them, they are such children; it is amazing! -Sometimes I would look at one of them and think: I am not worthy to -black his boots; although I am set over him! Clever devils, skilful -with their hands."</p> - -<p>The wine and his reminiscences had again pleasantly animated him. With -his elbows resting on the window-sill, waving his yellow hand with the -cigarette between its fingers, he spoke with energy:</p> - -<p>"One of them, a crooked fellow, an engraver and watchmaker, was -convicted of coining. You ought to have heard how he talked! It was -like a song, a flame! 'Explain to me,' he would say; 'why may the -exchequer coin money while I may not? Tell me that!' And no one could -tell him why, no one, not even I, and I was chief over him. There was -another, a well-known Moscow thief, quiet mannered, foppish, neat as -a pin, who used to say courteously: 'People work till their senses are -blunted, and I have no desire to do the same. I have tried it. You -work and work till weariness has made a fool of you, get drunk on two -copecks, lose seven copecks at cards, get a woman to be kind to you for -five copecks, and then, all over again, cold and hungry. No,' he says, -'I am not playing that game.'"</p> - -<p>Uncle Yaakov bent over the table and continued, reddening to the tips -of his ears. He was so excited that even his small ears quivered.</p> - -<p>"They were no fools, Brother; they knew what was right! To the devil -with red tape! Take myself, for instance; what has my life been? I look -back on it with shame, everything by snatches, stealthily; my sorrows -were my own, but all my joys were stolen. Either my father shouted, -'Don't you dare!' or my wife screamed, 'You cannot!' I was afraid to -throw down a ruble. And so all my life has passed away, and here I am -acting the lackey to my own son. Why should I hide it? I serve him, -Brother, meekly, and he scolds me like a gentleman. He says, 'Father!' -and I obey like a footman. Is that what I was born for, and what I -struggled on in poverty for—that I should be servant to my own son? -But, even without that, why was I born? What pleasure have I had in -life?"</p> - -<p>I listened to him inattentively. However, I said reluctantly, and not -expecting an answer:</p> - -<p>"I don't know what sort of a life mine will be."</p> - -<p>He burst out laughing.</p> - -<p>"Well, and who does know? I have never met any one yet who knew! So -people live; he who can get accustomed to anything—"</p> - -<p>And again he began to speak in an offended, angry tone:</p> - -<p>"One of the men I had was there for assault, a man from Orla, a -gentleman, who danced beautifully. He made us all laugh by a song about -Vanka:</p> - -<p style="margin-left: 10%;"> -"Vanka passes by the churchyard,<br /> -That is a very simple matter!<br /> -Ach! Vanka, draw your horns in<br /> -For you won't get beyond the graveyard!<br /> -</p> - -<p>"I don't think that is at all funny, but it is true! As you can't come -back, you can't see beyond the graveyard. In that case it is the same -to me whether I am a convict, or a warder over convicts."</p> - -<p>He grew tired of talking, drank his vodka, and looked into the empty -decanter with one eye, like a bird. He silently lighted another -cigarette, blowing the smoke through his mustache.</p> - -<p>"Don't struggle, don't hope for anything, for the grave and the -churchyard let no man pass them," the mason, Petr, used to say -sometimes, yet he was absolutely dissimilar to Uncle Yaakov. How many -such sayings I knew already!</p> - -<p>I had nothing more to ask my uncle about. It was melancholy to be with -him, and I was sorry for him. I kept recalling his lively songs and the -sound of the guitar which produced joy out of a gentle melancholy. I -had not forgotten merry Tzigan. I had not forgotten, and as I looked at -the battered countenance of Uncle Yaakov, I thought involuntarily:</p> - -<p>"Does he remember how he crushed Tzigan to death with the cross?"</p> - -<p>But I had no desire to ask him about it. I looked into the causeway, -which was flooded with a gray August fog. The smell of apples and -melons floated up to me. Along the narrow streets of the town the lamps -gleamed; I knew it all by heart. At that moment I heard the siren of -the Ribinsk steamer, and then of that other which was bound for Perm.</p> - -<p>"Well, we 'd better go," said my uncle.</p> - -<p>At the door of the tavern as he shook my hand he said jokingly:</p> - -<p>"Don't be a hypochondriac. You are rather inclined that way, eh? Spit -on it! You are young. The chief thing you have to remember is that -'Fate is no hindrance to happiness.' Well, good-by; I am going to -Uspen!"</p> - -<p>My cheerful uncle left me more bewildered than ever by his conversation.</p> - -<p>I walked up to the town and came out in the fields. It was midnight; -heavy clouds floated in the sky, obliterating my shadow on the earth by -their own black shadows. Leaving the town for the fields, I reached the -Volga, and there I lay in the dusty grass and looked for a long time at -the river, the meadow, on that motionless earth. Across the Volga the -shadows of the clouds floated slowly; by the time they had reached the -meadows they looked brighter, as if they had been washed in the water -of the river. Everything around seemed half asleep, stupefied as it -were, moving unwillingly, and only because it was compelled to do so, -and not from a flaming love of movement and life.</p> - -<p>And I desired so ardently to cast a beneficent spell over the whole -earth and myself, which would cause every one, myself included, to be -swept by a joyful whirlwind, a festival dance of people, loving one -another in this life, spending their lives for the sake of others, -beautiful, brave, honorable.</p> - -<p>I thought:</p> - -<p>"I must do something for myself, or I shall be ruined."</p> - -<p>On frowning autumn days, when one not only did not see the sun, but did -not feel it, either—forgot all about it, in fact—on autumn days, more -than once—I happened to be wandering in the forest. Having left the -high road and lost all trace of the pathways, I at length grew tired -of looking for them. Setting my teeth, I went straight forward, over -fallen trees which were rotting, over the unsteady mounds which rose -from the marshes, and in the end I always came out on the right road.</p> - -<p>It was in this way that I made up my mind.</p> - -<p>In the autumn of that year I went to Kazan, in the secret hope of -finding some means of studying there.</p> - - -<h4>THE END</h4> - -<hr class="full" /> -<p> -<a id="Contents"></a>Contents<br /> -<br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a><br /> -</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In the World, by Maxim Gorky - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE WORLD *** - -***** This file should be named 55502-h.htm or 55502-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/5/0/55502/ - -Produced by Marc D'Hooghe at Free Literature (online soon -in an extended version,also linking to free sources for -education worldwide ... 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