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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/78224-0.txt b/78224-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ae5e685 --- /dev/null +++ b/78224-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8686 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78224 *** + + + + + _The_ DREAMS _of_ CHANG + + AND OTHER STORIES + + + + + _Also by_ IVAN BUNIN + + THE VILLAGE + + _Authorized translation from the Russian + by + ISABEL F. HAPGOOD_ + + NEW YORK: ALFRED · A · KNOPF + + + + + _The_ DREAMS _of_ CHANG + + AND OTHER STORIES + + _Authorized translation from the Russian of_ + + IVAN BUNIN + + _by Bernard Guilbert Guerney_ + + [Illustration] + + NEW YORK + ALFRED · A · KNOPF + 1923 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC. + + _Published, September, 1923_ + + + _Set up, electrotyped, and printed by the Vail-Ballou Co., + Binghamton, N. Y. + Paper furnished by W. F. Etherington & Co., New York. + Bound by H. Wolff Estate, New York._ + + MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +CONTENTS + + + THE DREAMS OF CHANG 9 + + A COMPATRIOT 34 + + BRETHREN 46 + + GAUTAMI 86 + + THE SON 91 + + LIGHT BREATHING 110 + + AN EVENING IN SPRING 119 + + THE SACRIFICE 137 + + AGLAIA 144 + + THE GRAMMAR OF LOVE 158 + + A NIGHT CONVERSATION 173 + + A GOODLY LIFE 209 + + “I SAY NOTHING” 248 + + DEATH 268 + + THE GENTLEMAN FROM SAN FRANCISCO 280 + + + + +_TRANSLATION_ + + +_Dear Mr. Knopf_, + +I have much pleasure in hereby confirming the fact that you are the +only publisher authorized by me to issue in the United States of North +America my two books: the collection of short stories entitled “The +Gentleman from San Francisco” and the novel, “The Village.” + +With assurances of the highest esteem, + + I remain, + dear Sir, + yours very truly, + I. BOUNINE (I. BUNIN) + +Paris, 21-4-23. + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE DREAMS OF CHANG + + +What does it matter of whom we speak? Any that have lived and that live +upon this earth deserve to be the subject of our discourse. + +Once upon a time Chang had come to know the universe and the captain, +his master, to whom his earthly existence had become linked. And six +entire years have run since then,--have run like the sands in a ship’s +hourglass. + +It is again night,--dream or reality? And again comes morning,--reality +or dream? Chang is old, Chang is a drunkard,--he is always dozing. + +Outside, in the city of Odessa, it is winter. The weather is nasty, +sullen,--far worse than that of China was when Chang and the captain +met each other. Fine, stinging snow whirls through the air; it flies +obliquely over the ice-covered, slippery asphalt of the desolate +seaside boulevard, and painfully lashes the face of every running +Jew who, with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and with his +shoulders hunched up, is zigzagging to the left and right,--awkwardly, +Hebraically. Beyond the harbour, likewise deserted, beyond the bay, +hazy from the snow, the barren shores, low and flat, are faintly +visible. The jetty is hazy all the time with a thick, gray haze: the +sea, in foamy, bellying waves, surges over it from morn till night. The +wind whistles and reverberates among the telephone wires overhead.... + +On such days life in the city does not start at an early hour. Nor +do Chang and the captain awake early. Six years,--is it a long time, +or short? In six years Chang and the captain have grown old, although +the captain is not yet forty; and their lot has harshly changed. They +no longer sail the seas,--they live “on shore,” as seamen say; nor +are they living in the same place they lived in at one time, but in a +narrow and rather dark street, in a garret; the house is redolent of +anthracite, and is occupied by Jews,--of the sort that come to their +families only toward evening and who sup with their hats shoved on the +back of their heads. Chang and the captain have a low ceiling; their +room is large and chill. Besides that, it is always gloomy and dark +inside; the two windows placed in the sloping wall-roof are small and +round, reminding one of port-holes. Something in the nature of a chest +of drawers stands between the windows, and against the wall to the left +is an old iron bed,--and there you have all the furnishings of this +bleak dwelling,--unless the fireplace, out of which a fresh wind is +always blowing, be included. + +Chang sleeps in the nook behind the fireplace; the captain on the bed. +What sort of a bed this is, sagging almost to the floor, and what +kind of mattress it has, any one who has lived in garrets can easily +imagine; as for the dirty pillow, it is so scanty that the captain is +forced to put his jacket under it. However, the captain sleeps very +peacefully even on this bed; he lies on his back, his eyes shut and +his face ashen, as motionless as though he were dead. What a splendid +bed had formerly been his! Well built, high, with chests underneath; +the bedding was thick and snug, the sheets fine and smooth, and the +snowy-white pillows were chilling! But even then, even when lulled by +the rolling of the waves, he had not slept as heavily as he sleeps now: +now he gets very tired during the day, and besides that, what has he +to worry about now,--what can he oversleep, and with what can the new +day gladden him? At one time there had been two truths in this world, +that had constantly stood sentry in turns: the first was, that life is +unutterably beautiful; and the second, that life holds a meaning only +for lunatics. Now the captain affirms that there is, has been, and +will be for all eternity but one truth,--the ultimate truth, the truth +of Job the Hebrew, the truth of Ecclesiastes, the sage of an unknown +tribe. Often does the captain say now, as he sits in some beer shop: +“Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil +days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no +pleasure in them!” Still the days and nights go on as before, and now +there has again been a night, and again morning is coming on. And the +captain and Chang are awaking. + +But, having waked, the captain does not change his position and does +not open his eyes. His thoughts at that moment are not known even +to Chang, who is lying on the floor beside the fireless hearth from +which the freshness of the sea had come all night. Chang is aware of +only one thing,--that the captain will lie thus for not less than an +hour. Chang, after casting a look at the captain out of the corner of +his eye, again closes his lids, and again dozes off. Chang, too, is a +drunkard; in the morning he, too, is befuddled, weak, and beholds the +universe with that languid queasiness which is so familiar to all those +travelling on ships and suffering from sea-sickness. And because of +that, as he dozes off, in this morning hour, Chang sees a dream that +is tormenting, wearisome.... + +He sees: + +An old, rheumy-eyed Chinaman has clambered up onto a steamer’s deck, +and has squatted down on his heels; whiningly, he importunes all those +who pass by him to buy a wicker-basket of spoilt small fish which he +has brought with him. It is a dusty and a chill day on a broad Chinese +river. In the boat with a bamboo sail, swaying in the muddy water of +the river, a puppy is sitting,--a little rusty dog, having about it +something of the fox and something of the wolf, with thick, coarse fur +at its neck; sternly and intelligently his black eyes look up and down +the high iron side of the steamer, and his ears are cocked. + +“Better sell your dog!” gaily and loudly, as though to a deaf man, +the young captain of the ship, who was standing idling on his bridge, +yelled to the Chinaman. + +The Chinaman,--Chang’s first master,--cast his eyes upward; confused, +both by the yell and by joy, he began bowing and lisping: “Ve’y good +dog, ve’y good.”[*] And the puppy was purchased,--for only a single +silver rouble,--was called Chang, and sailed off on that very day with +his new master to Russia; and, in the beginning, for three whole weeks, +he suffered so with sea-sickness, and was in such a daze, that he saw +nothing: neither the ocean nor Singapore, nor Colombo.... + +[*] In English in the original. _Trans._ + +It had been the beginning of autumn in China; the weather was bad. And +Chang felt qualmish when they had barely passed into the estuary. They +were met by lashing rain and mist; white-caps glimmered over the plain +of waters; the gray-green swell swayed, rushed, plashed, many-pointed +and senseless; meanwhile, the flat shores were spreading, losing +themselves in the fog,--and there was more and more water all around. +Chang, in his fur coat, silvery from the rain, and the captain, in a +waterproof great-coat with the hood raised, were on the bridge, whose +height could be felt now more than before. The captain issued commands, +while Chang shivered and tossed his head in the wind. The water was +widening, embracing all the inclement horizon, blending with the misty +sky. The wind tore the spray from the great noisy swell, swooping +down from any and every direction; it whistled through the sail-yards +and boomingly slapped the canvas awnings below; the sailors, in the +meanwhile, in iron-shod boots and wet capes, were untying, catching and +furling them. The wind was seeking the best spot from which to strike +its strongest blow, and just as soon as the steamer, slowly bowing +before it, had taken a sharper turn to the right, the wind raised it up +on such a huge, boiling roller, that it could not hold back; it plunged +down from the ridge of the roller, burying itself in the foam,--and in +the pilot’s round-house a coffee cup, forgotten upon a little table by +the waiter, shattered against the floor with a ring.... And then the +fun began! + +There were all sorts of days after that: now the sun would blaze +down scorchingly out of the radiant azure; now clouds would pile up +in mountains and burst with peals of terrifying thunder; or raging +torrents of rain descended in floods upon the steamer and the sea; +or else there was rocking,--yes, rocking, even when the ship was +at anchor. Utterly worn out, Chang during all the three weeks did +not once forsake his corner in the hot, half-dark corridor of the +second-class cabins on the poop, where he lay near the high threshold +of the door leading onto the deck. Only once a day was this door +opened, when the captain’s orderly brought food to Chang. And of the +entire voyage to the Red Sea Chang’s memory has retained only the +creaking of the ship’s partitions, his nausea, and the sinking of his +heart, now flying downward into some abyss together with the quivering +stern, now rising up to heaven with it; also did he remember his +prickly, deathly terror whenever, with the sound of a cannon firing, +a whole mountain of water would splash against this stern, after it +had been raised high and had again careened to one side, with its +propeller roaring in the air; the water would extinguish the daylight +in the port holes, and then would run down in opaque torrents over +their thick glass. The sick Chang heard the distant cries of commands, +the thundering whistle of the boatswain, the tramp of sailors’ feet +somewhere overhead; he heard the plash and the noise of the water; he +could distinguish through his half-shut eyes the semi-dark corridor +filled with jute bails of tea,--and Chang went daft, became tipsy, from +nausea, heat, and the strong odour of tea.... + +But here Chang’s dream breaks off. + +Chang starts and opens his eyes: that was no wave hitting against +the stern with a sound of a cannon firing,--it was the jarring of a +door somewhere below, flung back with force by somebody or other. And +after this the captain coughingly clears his throat and slowly arises +from his sagging couch. He puts on and laces his battered shoes, dons +his black coat with the brass buttons, taking it out from under the +pillow; Chang, in the meanwhile, in his rusty, worn fur coat, yawns +discontentedly, with a whine, having risen from the floor. Upon the +chest of drawers is a bottle of vodka, some of which has already been +drunk. The captain drinks straight out of the bottle, and, slightly out +of breath, wiping his moustache, he goes toward the fireplace and pours +out some vodka into a little bowl standing near Chang for him as well. +Chang starts lapping it greedily. As for the captain, he begins smoking +and lies down again, to await the hour when it will be full day. The +distant rumble of the tramway can already be heard; already, far below +in the street, flows the ceaseless clamping of horses’ hoofs; but it +is still too early to go out. And the captain lies and smokes. Having +done with his lapping, Chang, too, lies down. He jumps up onto the bed, +curls up in a ball at the feet of the captain, and slowly floats away +into that blissful state which vodka always bestows. His half-shut eyes +grow misty, he looks faintly at his master, and, feeling a constantly +increasing tenderness toward him, thinks what in human speech may be +expressed as follows: “Oh, you foolish, foolish fellow! There is but +one truth in this world, and if you but knew what a wonderful truth it +is!” And again, in something between thought and dream, Chang reverts +to that distant morning, when the steamer, after carrying the captain +and Chang from China over the tormented restless ocean, had entered the +Red Sea.... + +He dreams: + +As they passed Perim, the steamer swayed less and less, as though it +were lulling him asleep, and Chang fell into a sweet and sound sleep. +And suddenly he started, awake. And, when he had become awake, he +was astonished beyond all measure: it was quiet everywhere; the stern +was rhythmically vibrating, without any downward plunges; the noise +of the water, rushing somewhere beyond the walls, was even; the warm +odour from the kitchen, creeping out on deck from underneath a door, +was enchanting.... Chang got up on his hind legs and looked into +the deserted general cabin,--there, in the obscurity, was a softly +radiant, aureately-lilac something; a something barely perceptible to +the eye, but extraordinarily joyous; there the rear port holes were +open to the sunlit blue void, open to the spaciousness, to the air, +while over the low ceiling streamed sinuous rills of light reflected +from mirrors,--they flowed on, without flowing away.... And the same +thing happened to Chang that had also happened more than once in those +days to his master, the captain: he suddenly comprehended that there +existed in this universe not one truth, but two truths: one, that to be +living in this world and to sail the seas was a dreadful thing, and the +other.... But Chang did not have time to think of the other,--through +the door, unexpectedly flung open, he saw the trap-ladder leading to +the spar-deck, the black, glistening mass of the steamer’s funnel, +the clear sky of a summer morning, and, coming rapidly from under +the ladder, out of the engine room, the captain. He had shaved and +washed; there was the fragrance of fresh Eau-de-cologne about him; his +fair moustache turned upward, after the German fashion; the glance +of his light, keen eyes was sparkling, and everything upon him was +tight-fitting and snowy white. And upon beholding all this Chang darted +forward so joyously that the captain caught him in the air, kissed him +resoundingly on the head, and, turning him about, carrying him in his +arms, with a hop, skip and a jump came out on the spar-deck, then the +upper deck, and from there still higher, to that very bridge where it +had been so terrible in the estuary of the great Chinese river. + +On the bridge the captain entered the pilot’s round-house, while Chang, +who had been dropped to the floor, sat for a space, his fox-like brush +unfurled to its full length over the smooth boards. It was very hot and +radiant behind Chang, from the low-lying sun. It must also have been +hot in Arabia, that was passing by so near on the right, with its shore +of gold, with its black-brown mountains, its peaks, that resembled +the mountains of some dead planet, also all deeply strewn with gold +dust; Arabia, its entire sandy and mountainous waste visible with such +extraordinary distinctness that it seemed as if one could jump over +there. And above, on the bridge, the morning could still be felt, there +was still the pull of a light, fresh coolness; the captain’s mate,--the +very same who later on used so often to make Chang furious by blowing +into his nose,--a man in white clothes, with a white helmet and wearing +fearful black spectacles, was sauntering briskly back and forth over +the bridge, constantly looking up at the sharp tip of the front mast +that reached up to the sky, and over which was curling the flimsiest +wisp of a cloud.... Then the captain called out from the round-house: +“Here, Chang! Come on and have coffee!” and Chang immediately jumped +up, circled the round-house, and deftly dashed over its brass +threshold. And beyond the threshold it proved to be even better than +on the bridge: there was a broad leather divan, fixed to the wall; +over it hung certain things like wall-clocks, their glass and hands +glistening; and on the floor was a slop-bowl with a mixture of sweet +milk and bread. Chang began lapping it greedily, while the captain +busied himself with his work. Upon the counter, placed under the window +opposite the divan, he unrolled a large maritime chart, and, placing a +ruler over it, firmly drew a long line upon it with scarlet ink. Chang, +having finished his lapping, with milk on his muzzle, jumped up on the +counter and sat down near the very window, out of which he could see +the blue turned-over collar of a sailor in a roomy blouse, who, with +his back to the window, was standing at the many-horned wheel. And at +this point the captain, who, as it turned out afterward, was very fond +of having a chat when he was all alone with Chang, said to him: + +“You see, brother, this is the Red Sea itself. You and I have to pass +through it as cleverly as we can,--just see how gaily coloured it is! +I have to land you in Odessa in good order, because they already know +there of your existence. I have already blabbed about you to a most +capricious little girl; I have bragged to her about your lordship, over +a sort of long cable, d’you understand, that has been laid down by +clever people over the bottom of all the seas and oceans.... For after +all, Chang, I am an awfully lucky fellow, so lucky that you can’t even +imagine it, and for that reason I am terribly averse to getting stuck +on one of these reefs, to have no end of disgrace on my first distant +cruise....” + +And, saying this, the captain suddenly gave Chang a stern look and +slapped his muzzle: + +“Paws off!” he cried commandingly. “Don’t you dare climb on government +property!” + +And Chang, with a toss of his head, growled and puckered up his face. +This was the first slap he had ever received, and he was offended; it +again seemed to him that to be living in this world and to be sailing +the seas was an atrocious thing. He turned away, his translucently +yellow eyes dimming and contracting, and with a low growl he bared +his wolfish fangs. But the captain did not consider Chang’s offended +feelings of any importance. He lit a cigarette and returned to the +divan; having taken a gold watch out of a side pocket of his _piqué_ +jacket, he pried back its lids with a strong nail, and looking upon +a glistening, unusually animated, bustling something which ran and +resoundingly whispered within the watch, again began speaking in a +comradely tone. He again told Chang that he was bringing him to Odessa, +to Elissavetinskaya Street; that in Elissavetinskaya Street he, the +captain, had apartments, first of all; secondly, a wife who was a +beauty; and, thirdly, a wonderful little daughter; and that he, the +captain, was a very lucky fellow after all. + +“A lucky fellow, after all, Chang!” said the captain, and then added: + +“This daughter of mine, Chang, is a lively little girl, full of +curiosity and persistence,--it is going to be bad for you at times, +especially for your tail! But if you only knew, Chang, what a beautiful +creature she is! I love her so much, brother, that at times I am even +afraid of my love: she is all the world to me,--well, almost all, let +us say; but is that as it should be? And, in general, should any one +be loved so greatly?” he asked. “For, were all these Buddhas of yours +more foolish than you and I? And yet, just you listen to what they say +about this love of the universe and all things corporeal, beginning +with sunlight, with a wave, with the air, and winding up with woman, +with an infant, with the scent of white acacia! Or else,--do you know +what sort of a thing this Tao is, that has been thought up by nobody +else but you Chinamen? I know it but poorly myself, brother, but then, +everybody knows it poorly; but, as far as it is possible to understand +it, just what is it, after all? The Abyss, our First Mother; She gives +birth to all things that exist in this universe, and She devours them +as well, and, devouring them, gives birth to them anew; or, to put it +in other words, It is the Path of all that exists, which nothing that +exists may resist. But we resist It every minute; every minute we want +to turn to our desire not only the soul of a beloved woman, let us say, +but even the entire universe as well! It is an eerie thing to be living +in this world, Chang,” said the captain; “it’s a most pleasant thing, +but still an eerie one, and especially for such as I! For I am too avid +of happiness, and all too often do I lose the way: dark and evil is +this Path,--or is it entirely, entirely otherwise?” + +And, after a silence, he added further: + +“For after all, what is the main thing? When you love somebody, there +is no power on earth that can make you believe that the one you love +can possibly not love you. And that is just where the devil comes in, +Chang. But how magnificent life is; my God, how magnificent!” + +Made red hot by the now high risen sun, and quivering slightly as it +ran, the steamer was tirelessly cleaving the Red Sea, now stilled in +the abyss of the sultry empyrean spaciousness. The radiant void of +the tropical sky was peeping in through the door of the round-house. +Noonday was approaching; the brass threshold simply blazed in the sun. +The glassy swell rolled more and more slowly over the side, flaring up +with a blinding glitter, and lighting up the round-house. Chang was +sitting on the divan, listening to the captain. The captain, who had +been patting Chang on the head, shoved him to the floor: “No, it’s too +hot, brother!” said he; but this time Chang was not offended,--it was +too fine a thing to be living in this world on this joyous noonday. And +then.... + +But here again Chang’s dream is interrupted. + +“Come on, Chang!” says the captain, dropping his feet down from the +bed. And again in astonishment Chang sees that he is not on a steamer +on the Red Sea, but in a garret in Odessa, and that it really is +noonday outside,--not a joyous noonday, however, but a dark, dreary, +inimical one, and he growls softly at the captain who has disturbed +him. But the captain, paying no attention to him, puts on his old +uniform cap and his old uniform great coat, and, shoving his hands deep +in his pockets and all hunched up, goes toward the door. Willy-nilly, +Chang, too, has to jump down from the bed. It is a hard thing for the +captain to descend the stairs and he has no heart for it, as though +he were doing it under the compulsion of harsh necessity. Chang rolls +along rather rapidly,--he is still enlivened by that yet unallayed +irritation with which the blissful state induced by vodka always +ends.... + +Yes,--it is two years now since Chang and the captain have been +occupied, day in and day out, in visiting one restaurant after another. +There they drink, have snacks, contemplate the other drunkards who +drink and have snacks alongside of them, amid the noise, tobacco smoke, +and all sorts of bad odours. Chang lies on the floor, at the captain’s +feet. As for the captain, he sits and smokes, his elbows firmly planted +on the table,--a habit he has acquired at sea; he is awaiting that +hour when it will be necessary, in accordance with some law which he +had himself mentally formulated, to migrate to some other restaurant +or coffee-house: Chang and the captain breakfast in one place, drink +coffee in another, dine in a third, and sup in a fourth. Usually the +captain is silent. But there are times when the captain meets some one +of his erstwhile friends, and then he talks all day long without cease +of the insignificance of life, and every minute regales with wine now +himself, now his _vis à vis_, now Chang,--the last always has some bit +of china on the floor before him. They would pass the present day also +in precisely the same way: they had agreed to breakfast this day with +a certain old friend of the captain’s, an artist in a high silk hat. +And that meant that at first they would sit in a certain malodorous +beer-shop, among red-faced Germans,--stolid, business-like people, who +worked from morn till night with, of course, the sole aim of drinking, +eating, working all over again, and propagating others of their kind. +Then they would go to a coffee-house filled to overflowing with Greeks +and Jews, whose entire existence, likewise senseless but exceedingly +perturbed, was swallowed up in ceaseless expectation of stock-exchange +news: and from the coffee-house they would set out for a restaurant +whither flocked all sorts of human rag-tag, and there they would sit +far into the night.... + +A winter day is short, but with a bottle of wine, sitting in +conversation with a friend, it is still shorter. And now Chang, the +captain, and the artist had already been both in the beer-shop and in +the coffee-house, and it is the sixth hour that they have been sitting +and drinking in the restaurant. And again the captain, having put his +elbows on the table, is ardently assuring the artist that there is but +one truth in this world,--a truth evil and base. “You just look about +you,” he is saying, “you just recall all those that you and I see every +day in the beer-shop, in the coffee-house, and out on the street! +My friend, I have seen the entire earthly globe--life is like that +all over! Everything that these people pretend as constituting their +life is all bosh and a lie: they have neither God, nor conscience, +nor a sensible purpose in existing, nor love, nor friendship, nor +honesty,--there is even no common pity. Life is a dreary, winter day in +a filthy tavern, no more....” + +And Chang, lying under the table, hears all this in the fog of a +tipsiness, in which there is no longer any exhilaration. Does he agree +with the captain, or does he not? It is impossible to answer this +definitely,--but since it is impossible, it means that things are +in a bad way. Chang does not know, does not understand, whether the +captain is right; but then, it is only when we experience sorrow that +we all say: “I do not know, I do not understand,”--whereas when joy is +its portion every living being is convinced that it knows all things, +understands all things.... But suddenly a ray of sunlight seems to cut +through this fog of tipsiness: there is a sudden tapping of a baton +against a music stand on the band-stand of the restaurant--and a +violin begins to sing, followed by a second, a third.... They sing more +and more passionately, more and more sonorously,--and a minute later +Chang’s soul overflows with an entirely different yearning, with an +entirely different sadness. His soul quivers from an incomprehensible +rapture, from some sweet torment, from a longing for something +indefinite,--and Chang no longer distinguishes whether he is in a dream +or awake. He yields with all his being to the music, submissively +follows it into some other world--and once more he sees himself on the +threshold of that beautiful world; silly, with a faith in the universe, +a puppy on board a steamer in the Red Sea.... + +“Yes, but how was it?” he half-thinks, half-dreams. “Yes, I remember: +it was a good thing to be alive on that hot noonday on the Red Sea!” +Chang and the captain were sitting in the round-house; later on they +stood on the ship’s bridge.... Oh, how much light there was; what a +deep blue the sea was, and how azure the sky! How amazingly vivid +against the background of the sky were all these white, red, and +yellow sailors’ blouses hung out to dry at the prow! Then, afterwards, +Chang and the captain and the other men of the ship (whose faces were +brick-red, with oily eyes, whereas their foreheads were white and +perspiring), breakfasted in the hot general cabin of first-class, +under an electric ventilator buzzing and blowing out of a corner. +After breakfast Chang took a little nap; after tea he had dinner, +and after dinner he was again sitting aloft, before the pilot’s +round-house, where a steward had placed a canvas chair for the captain, +and gazing far out at the sea; at the sunset, tenderly green among +the many-coloured and many-formed little clouds; at the sun, wine-red +and shorn of its beams, that, as soon as it had touched the turbid +horizon, lengthened out and took on the semblance of a dark-flamed +mitre.... Rapidly did the steamer run in pursuit of it; over the side +the smooth, watery humps simply flashed by, giving off a sheen of +blueish-lilac shagreen. But the sun hastened on and on,--the sea seemed +to be absorbing it,--and kept on decreasing and decreasing, and became +an elongated, glowing ember. It began to quiver and went out; and, +as soon as it had gone out, the shadow of some sadness immediately +fell upon all the world, and the wind, constantly blowing harder as +the night came on, became still more turbulent. The captain, gazing +at the dark flame of the sunset, was sitting with his head bared, his +hair a-flutter in the wind, and his face was pensive, proud, and sad. +And one felt that he was happy none the less, and that not only this +entire steamer, running on at his will, but all the universe as well +was in his power; because at that moment all the universe was in his +soul,--and also because even then there was the odour of wine on his +breath.... + +And when the night fell, it was awesome and magnificent. It was black, +disquieting, with an unruly wind, and with such a vivid glow from the +waves swirling up around the steamer that Chang, who was trotting +behind the captain as the latter rapidly and ceaselessly paced the +deck, would jump away with a yelp from the side of the ship. And the +captain again picked Chang up in his arms, and putting his cheek +against Chang’s beating heart,--for it beat in precisely the same way +as the captain’s--walked with him to the very end of the deck, on to +the poop, and stood there for a long time in the darkness, bewitching +Chang with a wondrous and horrible spectacle: from under the towering, +enormous stern, from under the dully raging propeller, myriads of +white-flamed needles were pouring forth with a crisp swishing; they +extricated themselves and were instantly whirled away into the +snowy, sparkling path that the steamer was laying down. Now, again, +there would be enormous blue stars: now some sort of tightly-coiled +blue globes that would explode vividly, and, fading out, smoulder +mysteriously with pale-green phosphorescence within the boiling watery +hummocks. The wind, coming from all directions, beat strongly and +softly upon Chang’s muzzle, ruffling and chilling the thick fur upon +his chest; and, nestling closely to the captain, as though they were +both of the same kin, Chang scented an odour that seemed to be that +of cold sulphur, breathed in the air coming from the furrowed inmost +depths of the sea. And the stern kept on quivering; it was lowered and +lifted by some great and unutterably free force, and Chang swayed and +swayed, excitedly contemplating this blind and dark, yet an hundredfold +living, dully turbulent Bottomless Gulf. And at times some especially +mischievous and ponderous wave, noisily flying past the stern, would +illumine the hands and the silvery clothes of the captain with an +eldritch glow.... + +On this night the captain for the first time brought Chang into his +large and cozy cabin, softly illuminated by a lamp under a red silk +shade. Upon the writing table, that was squeezed in tightly near the +captain’s bed, in the light and shade thrown by the lamp, stood two +narrow frames, holding two photographic portraits: one of a pretty +little petulant girl in curly locks, seated at her capricious ease in +a deep arm-chair; and the other that of a young woman, taken almost at +full length, with a white lace parasol over her shoulder, in a large +lace hat, and wearing a smart spring dress,--she was stately, slender, +beautiful and pensive, like some Georgian _tsarevna_. And the captain +said, as he undressed to the noise of the black waves beyond the open +window: + +“This woman won’t like you and me, Chang! There are some feminine +souls, brother, which languish eternally in a certain pensive +yearning for love, and who just for that very same reason never love +anybody. There are such,--and how shall they be judged for all their +heartlessness, falsehood, their dreams of going on the stage, of owning +an automobile, of yachting picnics, of some sportsman or other, who +pretends to be an Englishman, and tortures his hair, all greasy with +pomatum, into a straight parting? Who shall divine them? Everyone +according to his or her lights, Chang; and are they not fulfilling +the innermost secret behests of Tao Itself, even as they are being +fulfilled by some sea-creature that is now freely going upon its way in +these black, fiery-armoured waves?” + +“Oo-oo!” said the captain, sitting down on a chair and unlacing his +white shoe. “What didn’t I go through, Chang, when I felt for the +first time that she was not entirely mine,--on that night when for the +first time she had gone alone to the Yacht Club ball and had returned +toward morning, like a wilted rose, pale from fatigue and her still +unabated excitement, with her eyes all dark, widened, and distant from +me! If you only knew how inimitably she wanted to hoodwink me, with +what artless wonder she asked: ‘But aren’t you asleep yet, poor dear?’ +Right then I could not have uttered even a word, and she understood +me at once and became silent; she merely threw a quick glance at +me,--and began undressing in silence. I wanted to kill her, but she +dryly and calmly said: ‘Help me unfasten my dress at the back,’--and I +submissively approached her and began with trembling hands to unfasten +all these hooks and snaps,--and just as soon as I saw her body through +the open dress, saw her back between the shoulder blades, and her +chemise, dropping off the shoulders and tucked into the corset; just +as soon as I felt the scent of her black hair and caught a glimpse of +her breasts, raised up by the corset, reflected in the bright pier +glass....” + +And, without finishing, the captain waved his hand in a hopeless +gesture. + +He undressed, lay down, and extinguished the light, and Chang, turning +and settling in the morocco chair near the writing table, saw how +the black cerement of the sea was furrowed by rows of white flame, +flaring up and fading out; saw how some lights flashed up ominously +upon the black horizon; saw how an awesome living wave would run up +from thence and with a menacing noise would grow higher than the side +of the ship, and look into the cabin,--like some serpent of fairy +tale shining through and through with eyes of the natural colours of +precious stones, shining through and through with translucent emeralds +and sapphires. And he saw how the steamer thrust it aside and evenly +kept on in its course, amid the ponderous and vacillant masses of this +primordial element, now foreign and inimical to us, that is called +Ocean.... + +In the night the captain emitted some sudden cry; and, frightened +himself by this cry, which rang with some basely-plaintive passion, he +instantly awoke. Having lain for a minute in silence, he sighed and +said mockingly: + +“Yes, there’s a story for you! ‘_As_ a jewel of gold in a swine’s +snout, _so is_ a fair woman!...’ Thrice right art thou, Solomon, Sage +of Sages!” + +He found in the darkness his cigarette case and lit a cigarette, but, +having taken two deep puffs at it, he let his hand drop,--and fell +asleep so, with the little red glow of the cigarette in his hand. And +again it grew quiet--only the waves glittered, swayed, and noisily +rushed past the ship’s side. The Southern Cross from behind the black +clouds.... + +But here Chang is deafened by an unexpected thunder peal. He jumps up +in terror. What has happened? Has the steamer again struck against +underwater rocks through the fault of the intoxicated captain, as was +the case three years ago? Has the captain again fired a pistol at his +beautiful and pensive wife? No; this is not night all about them now; +neither are they at sea, nor in Elissavetinskaya Street on a wintry +noonday,--but in a brightly-lit restaurant, filled with noise and +smoke. It is the intoxicated captain, who had struck his fist against +the table, and is now shouting to the artist: + +“Bosh, bosh! As a jewel of gold in a swine’s snout,--that’s what your +Woman is! ‘I have decked my bed with coverings of tapestry, with carved +_works_, with fine linen of Egypt.... Come, let us take our fill of +love ... for the goodman _is_ not at home....’ Bah! Woman! ‘For her +house inclineth unto death, and her paths unto the dead....’ But that +is enough, that is enough, my friend. It is time to go,--they are +closing up this place; come on!” + +And a minute later the captain, Chang, and the artist are already in +the street, where the wind and the snow make the street-lamps flicker. +The captain embraces and kisses the artist, and they go in different +directions. Chang, sullen and half asleep, is running sidewise over +the sidewalk after the captain, who walks rapidly and unsteadily.... +Again a day has passed,--dream or reality?--and again darkness, cold, +and fatigue reign over the universe.... No, the captain is right, most +assuredly right: life is simply poisonous and malodorous alcohol, +nothing more.... + +Thus, monotonously, do the days and nights of Chang pass. But suddenly +one morning the universe, like a steamer, runs at full speed against an +underwater reef, hidden from heedless eyes. Awaking on a certain wintry +morning, Chang is struck by the great silence reigning in the room. He +quickly jumps up from his place, rushes toward the captain’s bed,--and +sees that the captain is lying with his head convulsively thrown back, +with his face grown pallid and chill, with his eyelashes half-open +and unmoving. And, upon seeing these eyelashes, Chang emits a howl as +despairing as if he had been thrown off his feet and cut in two by a +speeding automobile.... Then, when the door of the room has been taken +off its hinges, when people enter, depart, and arrive again, speaking +loudly,--the most diversified people: porters, police-men, the artist +in the high silk hat, and all sorts of other gentlemen who used to sit +in restaurants with the captain,--then Chang seems to turn to stone.... +Oh, how fearfully the captain had said at one time: “On that day the +keepers of the house shall tremble ... and those that look out of the +windows be darkened ... also they shall be afraid of _that which is_ +high, and fears shall be in the way ... because man goeth to his long +home, and the mourners go about the streets.... For the pitcher is +broken at the fountain, and the wheel broken at the cistern....” But +Chang does not feel even terror now. He lies on the floor, his muzzle +toward the corner; he has shut his eyes tight that he might not behold +the universe, might forget it. And the universe murmurs over him dully +and distantly, like the sea over one who descends deeper and deeper +into its abyss. + +But when he does come to himself again, it is near the doors of a +chapel, in the porch. He sits near them with drooping head; dull, +half-dead,--only he is all shaking in a chill. And suddenly the chapel +door is flung open,--and a wondrous scene, all mellifluously chanting, +strikes the eyes and the heart of Chang. Before Chang is a semi-dark +Gothic chamber, with the red stars of flames, a whole forest of +tropical plants, a coffin of oak raised high upon a black scaffolding. +There is a black throng of people; there are two women wondrous in +their marble-like beauty and their deep mourning, who seem just like +two sisters of different ages; and, over all this, reverberations, +thunder peals, a choir,--of men sonorously clamorous of some sorrowful +joy of the angels. Solemnity, confusion, pomp,--and chantings not of +this earth, drowning all else in their strains. And Chang’s every hair +stands up on end from anguish and rapture before this sonorous vision. +And the artist, who, with reddened eyes, stepped out of the chapel at +that moment, stops in amazement: + +“Chang!” he says in alarm, stooping down to him, “Chang, what is the +matter with you?” + +And, laying a hand that has begun to tremble upon Chang’s head, he +stoops still lower,--and their eyes, filled with tears, meet with such +love for each other, that Chang’s entire being cries out inaudibly to +all the universe: “Ah, no, no,--there is upon earth some third truth, +that has not been made known to me!” + +That day, having returned from the cemetery, Chang moves into the house +of his third master,--again up aloft, to a garret; but a garret warm, +redolent of cigars, with rugs upon the floor, with antique furniture +placed about it, and hung with brocaded stuffs.... It is growing dark; +the fireplace is filled with glowing, sombrely-scarlet lumps of heat; +Chang’s new master is seated in a chair. He had not even taken off his +overcoat and his high silk hat upon returning home; he had sat down +with his cigar in a deep chair, and is now smoking and gazing into the +dusk of his _atelier_. As for the fatigued, tortured-out Chang,--he is +lying on a rug near the fireplace, his eyes shut, his muzzle resting on +his front paws. And he dreams, he sees as in a vision: + +Some One is lying there, beyond the darkening city, beyond the +enclosure of the cemetery, in that which is called a crypt, a grave. +But this Some One is not the captain,--no. If Chang loves and feels +the captain, if he sees him with the vision of memory,--that divine +thing within him which he does not understand himself,--it means that +the captain is still with him: in that universe, without beginning and +without end, which is inaccessible to Death. In this universe there +must be but one truth,--the third; but what that truth is, is known +only to that last Master to whom Chang must now soon return. + +_1916._ + + + + +A COMPATRIOT + + +This _moujik_ of Briansk had been brought from the village to Moscow +when he was a little boy; he had run errands at a merchant’s warehouse +in Iliyinka; he used to fly like an arrow to taverns to get hot water +for tea: seizing the tea kettle, he would dash through the galleries +of the Stariya Riyady--the Old Shops--drawing, with a dark jet of +water, the figure eight upon the gray floor.... On a brisk winter day, +perhaps with a light snow falling, the Iliyinka thoroughfare would +be black with people; the horses of the cabbies would be shufflingly +trotting along,--but he, in just his shirt and without a cap (his head +resembling a rusty hedgehog), would jump out of the house, dart off the +sidewalk, and start sliding on his soles upon the ice in the gutter.... + +Imagine, then, how strange it is to see this _moujik_ in the tropics, +at the equator! He is sitting in his office in an old-fashioned house +of Dutch architecture. Beyond the window lies the white city in +the blaze of the sun; there are naked black rickshaw-men, shops of +Australian wares and of precious stones, hotels filled with tourists +from all the ends of the world; in the warm green water of the harbour +float American and Japanese steamers; beyond the harbour, along the +lowlands of the shores, grow cocoanut groves.... Clad all in white, +tall, knotty, with flaming red hair, with a blueish freckled skin, +pale, energetically exhilarated (or, to put it more simply, just +daft) from the heat, from nervousness, from constant tipsiness and +from business activity,--he is, to look at him, either a Swede or an +Englishman. His desk is all cluttered with papers, with bills. The +air is filled with the crisp rattling of typewriters. An old Hindu, +bare-footed, in robe and turban, noiselessly and rapidly changes with +his dark, exquisite, silver-ringed hands little bottles of cold soda +water, and every minute, with a mysterious expression on his face, +announces the visitors, adding “Sir” at every word. But the “Sir” +is completely absorbed in conversation with his friend from Russia, +before whom he is playing the rôle of the affable lord of this tropical +island. Upon the table are several open boxes of the most expensive +cigars; of Turkish, Egyptian, English and Havana cigarettes. He is a +connoisseur of tobaccos,--as well as of everything else, by the way. +He regales his guest now with this brand, now with the other, saying, +as though in passing: “This, I think isn’t at all bad....” Throwing a +casual glance at some paper submitted to him, he, in the midst of the +conversation, firmly and abruptly dashes off his signature upon it. +Upon seeing a visitor enter, he changes the expression on his face, +disposes of the matter in hand in two or three phrases, and again +renews the interrupted conversation. When receiving some dispatch, +his manner of opening it is especially negligent; for a moment, as he +runs through it, he frowns: “What idiots!” he will say vehemently, +in vexation; and throwing the dispatch to one side, immediately +forgets about it,--or pretends that he does so.... All are idiots +to him. He has already succeeded in astonishing his guest with his +self-assurance, his decisive and sceptical mind, his enormous worldly +experience and his wide acquaintance with people of the most diverse +classes and stations. No matter who among the celebrities of Moscow is +named,--merchants, administrators, physicians, journalists,--he knows +them all, and knows well, besides, the price of each and all. And +what information does he not possess concerning back-stage mysteries, +exceptional careers, and shady histories! + +His guest had heard a great deal about him while still at Port Said +from a certain friend of this man; which friend had said, with a +cynical gaiety, that Zotov had gone through fire, water, and brazen +pipes. “Ye-es,” this friend had said, shaking his head with a derisive +and enigmatic smile, “he’s a fine lad!” On the spot the guest came to +know still more, and chiefly through the fragmentary phrases of Zotov +himself. Strangely and unexpectedly do talents manifest themselves in +Russia, and they work miracles when lucky lots fall to their share! +For he had drawn an unusually lucky lot when he had come as an urchin +to Moscow. He had an uncle there; a well-fed, clever _moujik_, who +had already attained to a competence and a consciousness of his own +worth; who knew how, adroitly, without lowering himself, to do a good +turn for any decent gentleman. This uncle worked in the Sandunovskiya +baths, and many of those whom he enveloped in clouds of hot and +fragrant soapy foam called him by name and liked to chat with him. And +one of these was Nechaev, a liberal, educated Crœsus, a large-built, +stout merchant in gold spectacles. Was it a hard thing, having thrown +a fine, slippery sheet over the pink, steamed body, to put in a word +about his urchin nephew? And this urchin did not get to twisting waxen +thread, nor to blowing up the fire under sad-irons, but got into a +sombre, clean and quiet warehouse on the Iliyinka. All the rest was +a matter of his personal liveliness and aptitude. Everyone knows how +these lucky fellows and born geniuses begin: during the day the urchin +runs errands; of evenings, by his own volition, without any guidance, +he pours by the dim light of a candle-end, learning to read and write; +in the morning, before the clerks get in, he, without understanding, +but stubbornly, overcomes the newspaper, and, let the clerks but open +their mouths, he is right there on the spot, all alert and obedient, +catching every word, every glance.... When he was about twelve this +urchin, who had aroused his employer’s special interest, was taken +into the latter’s home; while in his eighteenth year he was already +in Germany, studying the paper industry, working as hard as any +German,--the foreigners, it would seem, did not want to believe that he +was a Russian. “They often don’t believe it even now, the blockheads!” +said Zotov, roughly and abruptly, as is his wont, throwing away one +cigarette and immediately lighting another.... “But, after all, does he +resemble a European so very greatly?” the guest wonders as he looks at +his host. + +He is thirty-seven years of age, but seems older. Yes,--in appearance +he is altogether an Englishman; even his hands are English, the red +hair upon them so thick that they seem to be covered with tow. “But +then,” the guest reflects, “would an Englishman talk so amazingly +much and so animatedly?” Hands really English would not be trembling +at his age, and, moreover, if possessing such strength as Zotov’s, an +Englishman’s face would not be so pale, so uneasy without any visible +cause. Zotov is wearing black spectacles for the second day now, +because one of his eye-brows is injured,--he slipped, so he says, on +a banana peel in a bar; which means that he was rather far gone! And +yet here, on this island, he is a personage because of his position. +His hold on his guest’s curiosity and attention does not flag for a +minute. This man, audacious to the verge of insolence, infects one with +his audacity, his energy,--at times even enraptures. But, listening +to him, wondering at him, one looks upon him and thinks: “But he is +drunk,--he is drunk!” He is always tipsy,--from nervousness, from the +heat, from whiskey; Englishmen drink a great deal, but, of course, not +a single one of them in all this white city drinks as much as Zotov, +nor swallows iced soda water as avidly, nor smokes such a quantity of +cigars and cigarettes, nor speaks so much and so confusedly.... + +After his training abroad he worked at home and enjoyed the unbounded +trust of the man who had brought him up. But he no longer wanted to +know any mean in his independence, as well as in his expenditures. Sent +into Central Asia, he suddenly, on some trifling pretext, quarrelled +with Nechaev, severing all connections with him,--and, from a man +steadily and surely climbing upward, was transformed into something +very like an adventurer. He had traversed all of Siberia; had been +in Amur, in China, consumed with impatience to found some enterprise +all his own,--let it be something new, let it be something he was not +familiar with, let it even be of a predatory nature,--but an enterprise +such as would quickly lead to riches. Having returned to Russia he had +insinuated himself into a great tea firm, besides having arranged two +other posts for himself,--and it is now the sixth year that he has +been living here in the tropics, clad in no mean powers.... It is a +rare European who would have so easily cancelled his fate, amazing in +its successfulness,--or even his specialty, which had taken so many +years of toil to acquire! No European would have yielded himself to +the whims of chance, or have shouldered not only a governmental post, +but also a steamship agency and a tea business; or have started, along +with all these, certain affairs with pearl-bearing shells; or would +have maintained a black mistress all his own,--a rare beauty, according +to rumour,--to the wonder of the whole city.... He keeps his counsel +very much to himself, but at times he is very tactless; reveals, with +equal force, now great firmness of character, now unrestraint; now +secretiveness, now loquacity. He flaunts his common origin and at the +same time boasts of his acquaintance with people of rank; swears, for +all he is worth, at the Russian Government,--and with evident pride +keeps on his desk a photographic portrait of a Russian Grand Duke, +handsome and rather young, who had personally bestowed this portrait +upon him, with a short signature in autograph. When he is narrating +something that, in his opinion, is humorous, he frequently does not +comprehend that the point of this amusing matter may be interpreted +not at all to his advantage,--for example, it was from no other source +than his own stories that the guest found out that Zotov had appeared +as far too omniscient, almost as a passer-by, to those men of affairs +in Siberia and Manchuria with whom he so rapidly attained to terms of +intimacy, whom he so quickly charmed at first with his obligingness and +sociability, his mannerisms of a man used to living on a grand scale, a +man conversant with what is what, in absolutely all things, beginning +with cigars, wine, women, and culminating with some excavations on +the Philippine Islands, rather lethal, it would seem, on account of an +earthly microbe.... + +In the evening the guest rides with him beyond the city. + +Beyond the city, on the shore of the ocean, stands a small but a very +fashionable restaurant, where the tourists and the residents rest +from the sultriness of the city, drinking tea, brandy, and champagne, +and admiring the sunset from the front piazza of the restaurant. They +come there in tiny rickshaws, following one another, over an endless +road amid age-old vegetation, past bungalows and past the huts of the +savages. And for a whole hour the guest from Russia sees before him +only the naked body of a brown man, carrying him at a run farther and +farther under the green vault of the branches of spreading trees; and +beyond him, beyond this body and black-haired head, the big white +figure of Zotov, sitting high and erect in his little carriage. Halfway +to their destination he suddenly turns around and, raising his stick, +calls out to his guest: + +“Would you care to drive in?” + +For answer the guest assents,--Zotov had pointed out a small Buddhistic +monastery,--and the savages, breathing heavily, bathed in perspiration, +roll up along the passage way, lying between the cabins, that stand +underneath the palms and all other species of trees. + +“Well, isn’t this like a bit of our own; isn’t this Russian?” Zotov is +saying, stepping out of his carriage. “Only in our country is there so +unconscionably much of this verdure, of this forest, so many of these +hovels, so many dirty urchins like these! Just look!” he is saying, +pointing with his stick at the trees, at the huts and their roofs of +leaves and of rushes, at the naked children, and at the natives, young +and old, who have surrounded the little carriages in their curiosity. +“And the evening, too, is like one of our own,--oppressive, and so +wearisome, so wearisome!” he is saying in irritation, going in the +direction of the old idol temple standing on a knoll underneath slender +cocoanut palms, where a priest is already waiting, clad in a yellow +mantle, with his right shoulder bared,--his shaven head is small and +pressed in at the temples, and his eyes are black, almost insane, and +have an intense gaze. + +Having entered the dark little sanctuary, the compatriots take off +their helmets, wet with perspiration and cool on the inner side. The +priest points a finger at their heads and shakes his head: as much as +to say that this is not required. + +“A lot you know, you fool,” says Zotov in Russian; and for a long +while, with a certain strange gravity, gazes at the fourteen-foot +wooden statue, gilded and painted in red and yellow, lying on its side +beyond a sacrificial altar of black stone, upon which are heaped small +coins and nickel rings, and with the slenderest of brown joss-sticks +sending forth thin jets of aromatic smoke standing upon it. + +“And how he is painted and lacquered all over, though!” says Zotov +jerkily. “Every bit just like the wooden bowls and cups sold at our +fairs!” + +And he carelessly tosses a heavy gold coin upon the silver plate +extended by the priest.... + +When they arrive at the restaurant, his face is almost chalky, and it +is a frightful thing to see the black spectacles upon it. “For two +whole hours I have not been poisoning myself with anything, have drunk +nothing, nor have I smoked; and because of all that I have become dead +tired,” he is saying. And just as soon as he is seated at a small table +on the little terrace before the restaurant, over the steep shore, +cumbered below with blue bowlders that eternally bathe in the warm +water of the ocean, he immediately orders champagne. + +The wine is very chill, and they both drink it avidly, rapidly growing +tipsy, and contemplate the darkening lilac ocean, the infinitely +distant sunset, turbidly and tenderly roseate. A faint, warm breeze +is stirring; the cicadas are drowsily strumming in the brushwood.... +And suddenly Zotov flings his cigarette far from him, quickly lights +another, and again, with the pertinacity of a maniac, begins talking of +the similarity of this island and Russia. + +The guest smiles. Zotov, hurriedly and not at all clearly, argues +with him. The matter does not lie, he urges, merely in an outward +resemblance.... And it was not even the resemblance that he had in +view, but rather his reactions.... Perhaps these reactions are not +firm, are unwholesome,--but then, that is another matter.... The devil +himself would go out of his mind in a climate like this,--it is not +a climate to be trifled with.... But now, in a discussion of all the +various dangers of the Far East, people somehow forget entirely about +that fact; messieurs the Aryans, and especially we Russians, ought to +carry out our conquering expeditions into the tropics with extreme +cautiousness, recalling with a greater frequence our forefathers +and their conquest of Hindustan, so significantly terminating in +Buddhism,--when all is said and done, it is we, the Aryans, after +Thibet intruding ourselves into the tropics, who have given birth to +this teaching, with its appallingly inapplicable wisdom! And then he +warmly begins to asseverate that “all the force of the thing” lies in +that he had already seen, had already felt the tropics even before +his arrival here, at some time very remote, perhaps a thousand years +ago,--with the eyes and the soul of his most distant ancestor.... + +He tells,--with a subtlety, passionateness and an eloquence never to be +expected from him,--that he had experienced extraordinary sensations +on the way over here, on those sultry, starry nights when he had first +beheld the Southern Cross, Canopus, and those first-created starry +mists that are called the Clouds of Magellan; when he had beheld the +Coal Sacks, those funereal fissures into the infinitude of universal +voids; and the awesome magnificence of the Alpha of the Centaur, +glimmering upon the utterly empty horizon, where some immeasurable +Nothingness, unattainable to our reason, seemed to be in its inception. +“Yes, yes!” exclaims he insistently, fixing the guest with his +spectacles: “The horizon was utterly empty about the Alpha! A spectacle +of a new world, of new heavens, was opened before me, but it seemed to +me,--and this sensation was vivid to the verge of terror within me, I +assure you!--it seemed to me that I had seen them before, once upon a +time. All the days and all the nights a smooth, dead swell rocked us +wide on the ocean. We were sailing toward an Eastern monsoon; it blew +sharp and strong, and its ceaseless current of air made the sailyards +hum and blurred the vision, and made our speed seem rapid.... Awaking +at night in the hot darkness of my cabin, I, in order to rest after +the exhausting sleep, would go on the upper decks, out into the wind, +under the stars,--altogether different from those I had seen all my +life, from my very birth, and with which I had already grown intimate; +stars that were altogether, altogether different,--yet at the same not +altogether new, seemingly, but as though they were _dimly recalled_. +Under their dim light hovered the ceaseless noise of the sea, the +steamer rolled slowly from one side to the other, and, like strangled +suicides in gray shrouds, with arms outspread, the long canvas +ventilators swayed and quivered near the funnel, avidly catching with +their orifices the freshness of the monsoon, upon which was already +borne toward us the hot breath of the dread Land of our First Parents. +And at such times I would be seized by such melancholy,--a melancholy +of some infinitely remote recollection,--that one can not express in +human speech even a hundredth part of it!” + +A faint, delightful breeze is stirring; there is a drowsy strumming in +the brushwood. The twilight begins to swell as with sap with that faery +orange-aureate colour which always arises in the tropics when some +time had elapsed after the sunset. The surf boils up in orange-aureate +foam; the faces and the white costumes are bathed in an orange-aureate +light.... + +“How connect that with which he amazed me to-day with what he is +amazing me now?” the guest from Russia is reflecting, almost in fear, +about his astonishing compatriot. But the latter, is looking at him +through his black spectacles and is stubbornly reiterating: + +“Yes, yes,--I have already been here.... And, in general, I am a +doomed man.... If you but knew how dreadfully muddled my affairs are! +Even more, it would seem, than my soul and my thoughts.... Oh, well, +there is a way out of everything! Just jerk back the trigger of +your revolver, having thrust its muzzle as far as possible into your +mouth,--and all these affairs, thoughts, and emotions will fly into +pieces to the devil and his dam!” + +_1916._ + + + + +BRETHREN + + _Behold brethren, slaying one another! + I would discourse of grief._ + + SUTHA NIPPATHA. + + +The road out of Colombo, lying along the ocean, runs through dense +cocoanut groves. To the right, within their sun-dappled shady depths, +under the high canopy of feathery broom-like tree-tops, are scattered +the Senegalese cabins, half-hidden by the pale green laminæ of +bananas, resembling gigantic ears of corn, so small and low are they +in comparison with the tropical forest surrounding them. To the left, +through the dark-ringed trunks, tall and slender, fantastically bent +in all directions, one sees stretches of deep, silky sands, a gleam +of a golden, blazing mirror of smooth water, and, anchored upon it, +as though blending with the tree trunks, are the coarse sails of +primitive pirogues,--frail, cigar-shaped hollowed-out small oaks. Upon +the sand, in paradisaical nudity, are sprawling the coffee-coloured +bodies of black-haired striplings. Many such bodies are also plashing, +with laughter and yells, in the warm transparent water of the stony +coast.... Of what need, one thinks, to these people of the forests, +these direct heirs of the Land of our First Parents, as Ceylon is +styled even now,--of what need to them are cities, cents, rupees? +Do not the forest, ocean, sun give them everything? And yet, upon +attaining the years of maturity, some of them take to trading, others +labour upon the rice and tea plantations, a third lot--in the north of +the island--dive for pearls together with negroes, going down to the +bottom of the ocean and arising thence with bloodshot eyes; a fourth +group replace horses,--they carry Europeans over the towns and their +environs, over dark red footpaths, shaded by enormous vaults of forest +verdure over that very _kabouk_ out of which Adam was created. Horses +bear but illy the sultriness of Ceylon,--even Australian horses; every +wealthy resident who keeps a horse sends it away for the summer to the +mountains, into Candy, into Nurillia. + +Upon the rickshaw-man’s left arm, between his shoulder and elbow, +the Englishmen, the present lords of the island, put a badge with a +number. There are ordinary numbers, and there are special ones. To one +old Senegalese rickshaw-man, living in a forest hut near Colombo, had +fallen a special number,--seven. “Wherefore,” the Exalted One might +have said,--“wherefore, monks, did this old man desire to multiply his +earthly sorrows?” “Because,” the monks might have answered, “because, +oh Exalted One, he was moved by earthly love, by that which, from the +start of time, summons all creatures into being,--therefore did this +old man desire to increase his earthly sorrows.” He had a wife, a +son, and many little children, dreading not that “he who hath them, +hath also the care of them.” He was black, very thin and unsightly, +resembling both a stripling and a woman; his long hair, gathered in +a knot at the nape of his neck and anointed with cocoanut oil, had +grown gray; the skin over all his body--or, to put it better, over his +bones--had wrinkled; as he ran, sweat streamed down from his nose, +chin, and the rag tied about his scanty pelvis; his narrow chest drew +breath with whistling and gasping. But strengthening himself with the +headiness of the betel, working up and expectorating a bloody froth +that soiled his moustache and lips, he sped quickly; and the white men +rolling in his black lacquered cart through the sun-scorched city, over +the dark-red pavements, soft from the sun and smelling of naphtha and +the humus of flowers, were satisfied. + +Moved by love, not for himself, but for his family, for his son, did he +desire happiness, that which was not destined to be his, that which was +not given to him. He knew English but poorly; he could not make out at +once the names of the places where he was to run to--and frequently ran +at a venture. The rickshaw-man’s carriage is very small; it has a top +that can be thrown back, its wheels are narrow and high, each shaft is +no thicker than an average cane. And lo! A big man, his eyes almost all +whites, all in white, with a white sun helmet, in rough but expensive +footgear, clambers into it, seats himself snugly therein, crosses one +leg over the other, and, restrainedly commanding, deep in his throat, +hoarsely croaks his destination. Seizing his shafts, the old man bends +down to the ground and flies forward like an arrow, scarce touching +the ground with his light feet. The man in the helmet, holding a stick +in his hands covered with tow-like hair, has gone into deep thought +over his affairs, staring vacantly,--when suddenly he rolls his eyes +in wrath: why, the fellow’s rushing in an altogether wrong direction! +To put it shortly, not a few sticks had fallen upon his back, upon his +black shoulder blades, always hunched up in presentiment of a blow. But +also not a few extra cents had he snatched from Englishmen,--checking +himself at full speed at the entrance of some hotel or office and +dropping the shafts, he would so wrinkle his face, so hurriedly throw +out his thin arms, his moist, monkey-like palms cupped, that it was +impossible not to give him something additional. + +One day he ran home at an altogether unaccustomed hour in the very +heat of noonday, when those lemon-coloured birds which are called +sun-birds flutter through the forest like golden arrows; when so +gaily and shrilly scream the parrots, darting from the trees and +flashing like rainbows through the dappled boskage of the forests, +through their shade and gleaming light; when, within the enclosures +of ancient Buddhistic sanctuaries, roofed with terra-cotta tiles, +the plum-coloured blossoms of the leafless Tree of Sacrifice, that +resemble little tuberoses, yield such a sweet and heavy odour; when +thick-throated chameleons play with such vivid primary colours as +they flash over smooth-trunked trees, as well as over trees that +are as ringed as an elephant’s trunk; when so many huge, gorgeous +butterflies soar and float without motion in the sun; and when the +hot, fawn-coloured ant-hills swarm and spout, as though with agate +grain. All things in the forests chanted and praised Maru, the God of +Life and Death, the God of the “Thirst of Being”; all creatures were +pursuing one another, rejoicing with a brief joy even as they destroyed +one another; but the old rickshaw-man, no longer athirst for anything +but a cessation of his sufferings, lay down in the stuffy murk of +his mud-hut, under its parched-up roof of leaves arustle with little +red snakes, and toward evening was dead--from icy cramps and watery +dysentery. His life was extinguished together with the sun, that went +down beyond the lilac smoothness of great watery expanses, retreating +toward the west, into the purple, ashes, and gold of the most +magnificent clouds in the universe. And night came,--a night on which, +in the forests near Colombo, all that was left of the rickshaw-man +was only a little contorted corpse, that had lost its number, its +name, even as the river Kellani loses its appellation when it reaches +the ocean. The sun, upon sinking, changes to a wind; but into what +does he that has died change? ... Night was rapidly extinguishing +the roseate and green colours of the fleeting twilight,--colours as +tender as those of some fairy tale; the flying foxes darted noiselessly +underneath the branches, seeking shelter for the night; and the forests +were filling up with a black, warm darkness, were bursting into flame +with myriads of fire-flies, and were mysteriously, languishingly +murmurous with cicadas and with the flowers of which the tiny tree +frogs make their home. In the distant forest idol-temple, before a +little sacred lamp barely glimmering upon a black altar for offerings +that was drenched with cocoanut oil and strewn with rice and withered +flower petals, upon his right side, with one hand laid meekly under +his cheek, reposed the Exalted One,--a giant of sandal-wood, with +a broad gilded face and elongated slanting eyes of sapphires, with +a smile of peaceful sadness upon his thin lips. In the dark cabin, +upon his back, was lying the rickshaw-man, and the suffering of death +distorted his pitiful features,--for that the voice of the Exalted +One had not reached him when it had summoned him to forsake earthly +love; for that beyond the grave a new life of sorrow awaited him, as +a consequence of his previous unrighteous one. The buck-toothed old +woman, sitting at the threshold of the cabin, at the fire under a +cauldron, wept on this night, nourishing her grief with the self-same +unreasoning love and pity. The Exalted One would have likened her +emotions to the copper ear-ring, resembling a little barrel, which hung +in her right ear,--the ear-ring was big and heavy; it had so pulled +down the slit in the lobe of her ear that a considerable hole had +formed. Her short blouse of cotton stuff, put on right over the bare +coffee-coloured body, stood out sharply white in the darkness. Near +by, naked, imp-like children were playing, squealing, pursuing one +another. As for the son, a light-footed youth,--he was standing in the +semi-darkness beyond the fire. He had that evening seen his bride,--a +round-faced, thirteen-year-old girl from a neighbouring settlement. He +was frightened and dumbfounded upon hearing of his father’s death,--he +had not thought that this would come so soon. But, probably, he was too +much aroused by another love, which is stronger than the love men bear +for their fathers. “Forget not,” saith the Exalted One, “forget not, O +Youth, longing to enkindle life with life, even as fire is enkindled +with fire, that all the torments of this universe, where everyone is +either slayer or slain, that all its sorrows and plaints, come from +love.” But love had already crept into the youth in its entirety, even +as a scorpion creeps into its lair. He stood and gazed into the fire. +As with all savages, his legs were disproportionately long. But even +Siva would have envied the beauty of his torso, that was of the colour +of dark cinnamon. The fire made his blue-black hair glisten,--it was as +thick as horse hair, and stretched taut and gathered at the top of his +head; made his eyes glow from under their long lashes,--and their glow +was like the glow of coke near the mouth of a forge. + +On the next day the neighbours carried off the dead little old man +into the depths of the forest; laid him in a pit, with his head to +the west, toward the ocean; hurriedly, but trying not to make noise, +cast earth and leaves over him; and hurried away to perform their +cleansing ablutions. The little old man was done with his running; +the brass badge was taken off the thin arm that had grown gray and +wrinkled,--and, admiring it, distending his thin nostrils, the youth +put it upon his own, that was rounded and warm. At first he only +followed the experienced rickshaw-men, trying to catch the destinations +of their passengers, memorizing English words and the names of the +streets; then he began carrying passengers independently, began +earning money himself; he was preparing for a family, for a love of +his own,--the desire for which is a desire for sons, just as the +desire for sons is a desire for property, and desire for property--a +desire for well-being. But one day, having come home, he came upon +other horrible tidings: his bride had vanished,--she had gone to Slave +Island, to purchase something, and had not returned. The bride’s +father, who knew Colombo well, having frequently gone there, searched +for her for three days, and he must have found out something, because +he returned reassured. He sighed and cast down his eyes, expressing his +submission to fate; but he was a great hypocrite, a sly old man, like +all those who have property, who trade in the city. He was corpulent, +with breasts like a woman’s; he had hoary hair, carefully combed, and +ornamented with an expensive comb of tortoise shell; he walked about +bare-footed, but under a sun-shade; he girt his hips with a piece +of gaudy material, of good quality; his blouse was of _piqué_. It +was impossible to get the truth out of him; furthermore, all women, +all maidens, are frail, even as all rivers are full of turnings and +windings; and the young rickshaw-man understood this. After sitting at +home for two days in a daze, without touching food, only chewing betel, +he finally came to himself and again ran off into Colombo. He seemed to +have forgotten entirely about his bride. He ran with the rickshaw, he +covetously hoarded money,--and it was impossible to understand which he +was more in love with: his running, or those circles of silver which +he gathered for it. One Russian seaman had had a photograph taken of +himself and the rickshaw-man, and had presented him with one of these +pictures. For a long time after that the young rickshaw-man joyously +marvelled at his image: he was standing between his shafts, his face +turned toward the imaginary spectators, and everyone could recognize +him immediately,--even the badge on his arm had come out. With all good +fortune, apparently even with happiness, he had laboured thus for about +half a year. + +And one morning he was sitting with other rickshaw-men underneath a +many-trunked banyan tree that stood upon that lengthy street which +extends from Slave Island to Victoria Park. The hot sun had just +appeared from behind the trees, from the direction of Maradana. But +the banyan tree had grown high, and there was no longer any shade +about its roots, strewn over with parched leaves. The little carriages +grew hot from the heat, their thin shafts lay upon the dark-red, +heated earth, that smelt both of naphtha and of freshly-ground +coffee. With this odour were blended the pungent sweet odours of the +surrounding, ever-blossoming gardens, the odours of camphor, of musk, +and of that which the rickshaw men were eating,--and they were eating +bananas,--small, warm, tenderly roseate, in aureate skins; they were +eating those orange fruits, with a tang of turpentine, the meat of +which has the appearance of the flesh of children. They were chattering +as they sat on the ground, their knees raised in sharp angles up to +their chins, with their arms on top of the knees, and with their +feminine heads on top of their arms. Suddenly, in the distance, near +the white enclosing walls of a bungalow, dappled by the light and +shade, appeared a man clad in white. He was walking in the middle of +the street with that determined and firm step with which only Europeans +walk. And, jumping up as quick as lightning from the ground, the entire +flock of these naked, long-legged men dashed toward him, racing to +get ahead of one another. They darted upon him from all sides, and he +yelled threateningly, swinging out with his cane. Timid and sensitive, +they checked themselves at full speed, gathering around him. He glanced +at them,--and number seven, with his pitch-black, horse-like hair, +appeared to him stronger than the others. And so his choice fell upon +number seven. + +He was short and strong, in gold spectacles, with black eyebrows grown +together over the bridge of his nose, with a short black moustache, +with an olive complexion; the sun of the tropics and liver trouble +had already left their sallow trace upon his face. His helmet was +gray; his eyes, in some strange way, as though they beheld nothing, +looked out of the coal-black darkness of his eyebrows and lashes, +from behind the shining lenses. He sat down like one accustomed to +rickshaws,--immediately finding in the little carriage that spot which +makes it the easiest for the rickshaw-men to run, and glancing at the +little watch in a leathern socket strapped around his wrist,--it was +tattooed, and the hand was powerful and stubby,--called out “York +Street!” His expressionless voice was firm and calm, but his eyes had +a strange look. And the rickshaw-man snatched up the shafts and flew +off at a considerably greater speed than was called for, every moment +clicking the bell that was fastened at the end of the shaft, and +shuffling in and out among pedestrians, tilted _arba_ carts, and other +rickshaws that were running back and forth. + +It was the end of March,--the most sultry period. Not even three hours +had passed since the rising of the sun,--yet it already seemed as if +noon were near, so hot and bright was it everywhere, and so thronged +in the neighbourhood of the stores at the farther end of the street. +The earth, the gardens, all that tall, spreading vegetation which was +growing green and blossoming over the bungalows, over their chalky +roofs, and over the old black stores,--all these had cloyed the air +with warmth and fragrance, whereas the rain-trees had curled up tightly +their little cup-like leaves. The rows of shops,--or, rather, of +sheds,--roofed with black tiles, their walls hung about with enormous +bunches of bananas, with dried fish, with sun-cured shark-meat, were +filled with buyers and sellers,--both alike resembling dark-skinned +bath-attendants. The rickshaw-man, bending forward, his long legs +twinkling, was running rapidly, and as yet there was not a single drop +of sweat upon his back, glistening with cocoanut oil, nor upon his +rounded shoulders, between which the slender trunk of his girlish neck +gracefully supported his pitch-black head, upon which the blazing sun +beat down. At the very end of the street, he came to a sudden stop. +Turning his head just the least trifle, he rapidly said something in +his own tongue. The Englishman, his passenger, caught sight of the +tips of his curved eyelashes, caught the word “betel,” and raised his +eyebrows. How? Such a young, strong fellow was already wanting betel, +after having run only some two hundred steps? Without answering, he +struck the rickshaw-man over his shoulder blades with his cane. But the +latter, timorous like all Senegalese but at times also insistent, only +shrugged his shoulders and flew like an arrow diagonally across the +street, toward the shops. + +“Betel,” repeated he, turning wrathful eyes upon the Englishman, and +baring his teeth in a dog-like snarl. But the Englishman had already +forgotten about him. And a minute later the rickshaw-man jumped out +of a shop, holding upon his narrow palm a leaf of the pepper tree, +smearing it over with lime and wrapping within it a bit of the _areca_ +fruit, resembling a bit of flint. Kill not, steal not, commit no +fornication, lie not, nor become intoxicated with aught, the Exalted +One hath commanded. Yes,--but what did the rickshaw-man know of Him? +Vaguely echoed within him that which had been vaguely accepted by the +countless hearts of his forefathers. In the rainy season of the year he +had gone with his father to the sacred tabernacles; and there, among +the women and the beggars, he had listened to the priests reading in +an ancient tongue forgotten of all, and understanding nothing, only +chiming in in the common joyous acclamation whenever the name of the +Exalted One was uttered. More than once it had happened that his father +had prayed in his presence upon the threshold of the idol temple; he +would bow down before the recumbent statue of wood, muttering its +commandments, lifting his joined palms to his forehead, and then would +lay upon the altar for offerings the smallest and most worn of his +hard-earned coins. But he muttered his prayers with indifference,--for +he was merely afraid of the pictures upon the walls of the idol-temple, +the depictions of the torment of sinners; he bowed down before other +gods as well,--before horrible Hindu statues; in them, too, did he +believe, just as he believed in the power of demons, serpents, stars, +darkness.... + +Having thrust the betel into his mouth, the rickshaw-man, fitfully +volatile in his emotions, turned amiably smiling eyes upon the +Englishman, seized the shafts, and, starting off with a thrust of +his left foot, began running again. The sun was blinding; it gleamed +on the gold and the lenses of the spectacles whenever the Englishman +raised his head. The sun was scorching his hands and knees; the earth +was breathing heavily,--one could even see that the air was aquiver +above it, as above a brazier,--but he sat immovably, without touching +the hood of the little carriage. Two roads led into the city,--or, as +the residents called it, into the Fort: one, on the right, passed by +the Malay pagoda, over the dam between the lagoons; the other, to the +left, led toward the ocean. The Englishman wanted to go by the latter. +But the rickshaw-man turned around as he ran, showing his bloodied +lips, and pretended that he did not understand what was wanted from +him. And the Englishman again yielded,--he was absent-mindedly looking +about him. The green lagoon, sparkling, warm, filled with turtles and +rotting vegetation, bordered in the distance by a cocoanut grove, lay +on the right. Upon the dam people were walking, riding, running to the +clanging of bells. Rickshaw-men in fezes, white jackets, and short +white pantaloons were now occasionally met with. The Europeans sitting +in the little carriages were pale after the exhausting night; they held +their white shoes high, putting one knee over the other. A two-wheeled +cart, with a gray humped bullock harnessed to it, rolled by.... +Beneath its top, in the light, warm shadow, was sitting a Parsee,--a +yellow-faced old man who looked like an eunuch, in a gown and a conical +velvet skull cap, the latter worked with gold. A giant Afghan, in wide +trowsers to his knees, in soft boots with upturned toes, in a white +_casaque_ and an enormous pink turban, was immovably standing, bent +over the lagoon, gazing at the turtles, at the warm water. Long covered +_arba_ carts stretched on endlessly, dragged along by oxen. Under +their narrow arched tops of straw were piled up bales of goods, and, +at times, there would be a whole cluster of the brown bodies of young +labourers. Shrivelled old men, parched by the heat, their feet reddened +from the red dust, looking like the mummies of old women, paced beside +the wheels. There were stone-cutters pacing along, and stalwart black +Tomilas.... “_The Pagoda_,” said the Englishman, referring to a certain +tea-house, when they had come beneath those patriarchal trees that grow +at the entrance into the Fort, beneath the unencompassable canopies of +their verdure, shot with the sun that penetrated through it. + +They stopped near the entrance of an old Dutch building, with arcades +on its ground floor. The Englishman glanced at his watch and went off +to drink tea and to smoke a cigar. As for the rickshaw-man, he made +half a turn about the broad, shady street, over the reddishly-lilac +pavement, strewn over with the yellow and scarlet blossom of the +_ketmias_, and dropping the shafts at the roots of a tree, without +checking his impetus, sank down. He raised up his knees and put his +elbows upon them, avidly breathing in the steaming, sweetly odorous +warmth of noonday, and aimlessly letting his eyes follow the Senegalese +and Europeans passing by. Taking a rag from some recess of his apron, +he wiped with it his lips, made bloody by the betel, wiped his face, +the convexities on his thin chest, and, folding it into a bandage, tied +it around his head,--this did not at all look well, giving him the +appearance of a sick man; but then, many rickshaw-men do it. He sat, +and, perhaps, he may have been pondering.... “Our bodies, O Master, +are different,--but then, we all have but one heart,” Ananda had said +to the Exalted One, and, therefore, one can imagine what must be the +thoughts or emotions of a youth who had grown up in the paradisaical +forests near Colombo and who had already tasted the most potent of +poisons,--love for woman; who had already plunged into life,--life, +fleetly flying after joys or fleeing from sorrows. Mara had already +wounded him,--but then, Mara also healeth wounds. Mara snatches out +of the hands of man that which man had seized upon,--but then, Mara +also inflames a man to seize anew that which had been taken away, or to +seize something else that is like that which had been taken away.... + +Having had his tea, the Englishman wandered through the street, +entering shops, gazing at the show-cases displaying precious stones, +elephants and Buddhas made of ebony wood, all sorts of bright coloured +stuffs, the golden skins of panthers, spotted with black,--while the +rickshaw-man, meditating of something, or, perhaps, merely sentient, +was exchanging bright glances with the other rickshaw-men and followed +the Englishman, dragging his little carriage after him. Exactly at +noon the Englishman gave him a rupee to buy himself some food, while +he himself went into the office of a big European steamship line. The +rickshaw-man bought some cigarettes, started smoking, inhaling deeply, +watching his cigarette, as women do,--and smoked five of them, one +after the other. In a delectable daze he sat in the fretted shade, +opposite the three-story building where the office was, and suddenly, +having raised his eyes, saw that his passenger, and also five other +Europeans, had appeared on the balcony under the white awning. They +were all looking through binoculars at the harbour,--and now, beyond +the roofs of the wharf, appeared two tall, slender masts, slightly +inclined backward. The people on the balcony started waving their +handkerchiefs, while from beyond the roofs, morosely, mightily and +majestically, a whistle began to roar, echoed all over the roadstead +and in the city,--the steamer from far-away Europe that the passenger +of rickshaw number seven had been awaiting had arrived. With English +punctuality did it enter after twenty days’ sail to Colombo,--and that +which the rickshaw-man, still filled with hopes and desires, did not +at all expect--that dinner, so fatal for him, to be held in the house +near the lagoon, at the steamship agent’s home,--was decided upon. + +But until dinner, until evening, there still remained much time. And +again this man in spectacles who saw nothing came out into the street. +He said good-bye to the two men who had come out with him and who had +gone in the direction of the white statue of Victoria, toward the +covered wharf; and again the rickshaw-man started ambling through the +street,--this time toward the hotel, where at this time many tourists +and rich residents were eating and drinking in a semi-dark hall, +whose sultry stuffiness was stirred and mixed with the odours of the +food by blades turning near the ceiling. And again, like a dog, the +rickshaw-man squatted down upon the pavement, upon the petals of the +_ketmias_. The fretted shade of trees whose light-green tips were +interlaced spread over the street, and in this shade went past him +the womanish Senegalese, thrusting upon the Europeans coloured postal +cards, tortoise-shell combs, precious stones,--one native was even +dragging after him by a cord a little beast in a coat of long quills, +trying to sell it,--and these half-savages, these rickshaw-men, kept +up their ceaseless racing through this rich European thoroughfare.... +In the distance, in the centre of an open square, a woman of heroic +size, in marble,--proud, double-chinned, in crown and royal mantle, +seated on her throne upon a high pedestal of marble,--was blazing +in her whiteness. And those who had just arrived from Europe were +trooping from that direction. Black and dove-coloured servants jumped +out upon the entrance to the hotel; bowing, they snatched the canes +and small baggage from the hands of the arrivals, who were also met +by the bows, restrained and graceful, of a man resplendent with the +parting of his pomatumed hair, with his eyes, his teeth, his cuffs, his +starched linen, his _piqué_ dinner jacket, his _piqué_ trousers, and +his white footgear. “Men are forever going to feasts, to excursions, +to diversions,” saith the Exalted One, Who had at one time visited +this paradisaical corner of the first men who had come to know desire. +“The sight, sounds, taste, and odours of things intoxicate them,” He +had said; “desire entwines them, even as a creeping plant, green, +beautiful, and death-bearing, entwines the tree Shala.” Traces of +fatigue, of exhaustion from heat, from the rocking of the boat at sea +and from maladies, were upon the ashen faces of those going to the +hotel. They all had the appearance of being half-dead, they spoke +without moving their lips; but they all walked on, looking about +them, and one after the other disappeared within the darkness of the +vestibule, in order to go to their rooms, to wash up and refresh +themselves. And then, having intoxicated themselves with food, drink, +cigars and coffee, until their faces flushed crimson, they would roll +away in rickshaws to the shore of the ocean, into the Cinnamon Gardens, +to the Hindu temples and the Buddhistic sanctuaries. Everyone of +them--everyone!--had within his soul that which compels a man to live +and to desire the sweet deception of life! And was not this deception +doubly sweet to the rickshaw-man, born in the land of the first people? +Ladies and gentlemen walked to and fro before him,--elderly, ugly, just +as buck-toothed as his black mother, sitting in the distant forest +hut; but at times young women also went past him,--pleasant to look +upon, in white raiment, in small helmets wound with light veils, and, +arousing desire within him, they looked intently upon his splendid, +upraised eyelashes, upon the rag around his pitch-black head, and upon +his blood stained mouth. But then, was she who had disappeared in the +city inferior to them? The warmth of the tropical sun had made her +grow. She seemed darker on account of her short blouse, white, with +little blue flowers, and her skirt, just as short and of the same +material, both put directly upon her naked body,--just a trifle full, +but strong and small. She had a little rounded head, a convex little +forehead, round shining eyes in which childish timidity was already +being commingled with a joyous curiosity about life, with a hidden +muliebrity, both tender and passionate; there was a coral necklace +upon her rounded neck; her little hands and feet were braceletted with +silver.... Jumping up from his place, the rickshaw-man ran into one +of the nearest by-streets, where, in an old, one-storied house under +brick tiles, with thick wooden pillars, there was a bar for the lower +classes. There he put twenty-five cents on the bar, and for that price +gulped down a whole glass of whiskey. Having mixed this fire with the +betel, he had assured himself of a beatific exaltation almost until the +very evening, until the time when the forests near Colombo, filling +with black, sultry darkness, would begin to resound mysteriously with +murmurings and moanings of countless cicadas and tree toads, and the +thickets of bamboo would be aquiver with myriads of fiery sparks. + +The Englishman, too, was intoxicated, as he walked out of the hotel +with a cigar,--his eyes were drowsy, his face, heightened in colour, +seemed to have become fuller. Glancing at his watch from time to time +and thinking of something, apparently not knowing how to kill time, he +stood a while near the hotel in indecision. Then he ordered himself +carried first to the post office, where he dropped three postal cards +into the box, and from the post office to Gordon’s Garden, which he +did not even enter,--he simply glanced in at the gates at the monument +and the pathways; and from the garden he went at random: to Black +Town, to the market place in Black Town, to the Kellani River.... And +then he was whirled on and on, hither and thither, by the intoxicated +rickshaw-man, who was bathed in sweat from head to foot, aroused both +by whiskey and by betel, and by the hope of receiving a whole heap of +pennies, and by certain other dreams that stir the body and soul and +that never forsake a man. At the most oppressive hour of the afternoon +heat and glare, when, after having sat on a bench under a tree for +two minutes one leaves upon it a dark ring of perspiration, he, to +please the Englishman, who did not know what to do until dinner, ran +all over Black Town,--ancient, populous, redolent of spicy odours; +and many naked coloured bodies and many bright stuffs girt about hips +did the sleepy Englishman see; many Parsees, Hindus, yellow faced +Malayans; malodorous Chinese shops, brick-tiled and bamboo-covered +roofs, temples, minarets and idol-temples; sailors from Europe on shore +leave, as well as Buddhistic monks,--shaven, thin, with insane eyes, +clad in canary-coloured toga-like garments, with the right shoulder +bared, and carrying fans made out of the foliage of the sacred palm. +Rapidly, rapidly, did the rickshaw-man and his passenger dash through +this teeming density and dirt of the ancient East, as though they +were escaping from some one. Up to the very river Kellani did they +run,--the narrow, turbid, and deep Kellani, made too warm by the sun, +half-covered with impenetrable green overgrowths that bent low from +its banks; the river beloved of crocodiles, who retreat farther and +farther into the depths of the virgin forests before the barges with +straw-thatched arched covers; barges laden with bales of tea, with +rice, cinnamon, precious stones still in the rough,--barges floating +with especial deliberation in the golden deep glitter of the sun before +evening.... Then the Englishman gave orders to return to the Fort, +by now deserted, with all its offices, agencies and banks closed; he +was shaved in a barber shop and grew unpleasantly younger; he bought +cigars, dropped into an apothecary’s.... The rickshaw-man, grown +thinner, all bathed in sweat, was by now gazing upon him inimically, +with the eyes of a dog that feels attacks of madness coming on.... +At six o’clock, having run past the lighthouse at the end of Queen’s +Street, having run through the quiet and clean military streets, he ran +out upon the shore of the ocean, that struck his eyes with its freedom, +with its glaucously aureate sheen from the low-lying sun, and started +running over Gull Face Place toward Slave Island. + +“From longing is born the desire for joy,” the Exalted One hath said, +“from happiness is born sorrow; out of joy and sorrow doth fear arise.” +And now within the eyes of the rickshaw-man had already appeared +sorrow, and fear, and malice. He had grown daft from running, had more +than once, with sad weariness, turned around toward his tormentor; he +breathed heavily, putting behind him with his long legs the broad, +well-laid road of the Place. At the setting of the sun this Place is +vast, empty and melancholy. Having done with business, the Englishmen +stroll here before dinner, are driven in costly horse equipages, or +drive their wives, mistresses, and children; play tennis and football; +and admire the ocean and the magnificent beauty of the tropical +sunset,--a sunset not like that of their own land. The rickshaw-man ran +on, looking wildly upon these sinewy, red-haired men in short white +trunks and gay sweaters, who careered over the Place of their own free +will, racing after one another with all their might, jumping up after +the soaring balls and kicking them resoundingly with the rough tips +of their heavy shoes. The sun was sinking; the sky above the setting +sun was growing green; a light, downy cloud, that had been lurking in +the skyey depths, became entirely roseate.... “Carlton Hotel!” in a +lifeless voice said the Englishman, who had all the time been sadly +and drowsily gazing toward the west, upon the ocean, upon its softly +murmurous surge, scattering into heliotrope foam upon the bowlders on +shore.... The rickshaw-man, as he ran, would bare his teeth; by now +he wanted to gnaw this man who had driven him so hard,--but it was +impossible not to run: the Englishman, without changing the expression +of his drowsily sad face, more and more often prodded the rickshaw-man +with the tip of his cane. And besides, the rickshaw’s beatific +exaltation had already passed into something else,--into a tense +submissiveness, into a coma of ceaseless running. All the hotels in the +Fort were filled up, and the Englishman lived in a common one beyond +Slave Island,--and now the rickshaw-man once more ran past the banyan +tree, under which he had sat down this very morning in his greed of +earning money from these merciless and enigmatic white men, in his +obstinate hope of happiness. Once more the familiar gardens, one after +another; the stone enclosures; the Dutch-tile roofs of bungalows,--low, +squat, by comparison with the trees spreading over them.... Having run +into the yard of one such bungalow, the rickshaw-man rested for half an +hour near the terrace, while the Englishman was changing his clothes +for dinner. His heart was pounding like a poisoned man’s, his lips +had blanched, the features of his dark brown face had grown sharper, +his splendid eyes had grown still blacker and wider, the rag upon his +head had become so saturated that he snatched it off and flung it far +from him. The odour of his heated body had become unpleasant,--it was +now the odour of warm tea mixed with cocoanut oil, and some other, +spirituous, ingredient, such as would be produced by taking and rubbing +a cluster of ants in one’s hands. + +Meanwhile the sun had set. An elderly maiden was half-lying under +the awning of the terrace in a rocker, reading a prayer-book by the +remaining daylight. Having caught sight of her from the street, there +noiselessly entered the yard a mute Hindu of Madura,--a tall, dark old +man, as thin as a skeleton, with gray hair curling upon his chest and +abdomen, in a beggar’s turban, in a long apron of stuff that had at one +time been red and crossed with yellow stripes. Upon his arm the old man +carried a closed basket of palm-wattle. Walking up to the terrace, he +salaamed subserviently, putting his hand to his forehead, and sat down +upon the ground, lifting up the cover of the basket. Without looking at +him, the woman reclining in the rocker waved him away with her hand. +But he was already taking a bamboo flute out of his belt. And at this +point the rickshaw-man jumped to his feet, and in an inexplicable +fury yelled loudly at him. The old man, too, jumped up, slammed shut +the basket, and, turning about, ran toward the gates. But, for a long +while, the eyes of the rickshaw-man were round,--altogether as with +that fearful creature whom he pictured to himself,--slowly, like a +tightly wound cord, crawling out of the basket and hissingly puffing +out its throat, that glimmered with a blue sheen. + +The darkness was falling rapidly,--it was already dark when the +Englishman, freshly laved, came out upon the terrace in his white +dinner jacket, and the rickshaw-man submissively darted toward the +shafts. The Englishman called out briskly the name of the place he was +to run to,--and who knows if his order found no eerie echo in the heart +of the rickshaw-man? It was already night, and an exceptionally hot +one,--as always before the oncoming of the rainy season; a night still +more fragrant than the day. Still denser had grown the warm and cloying +aroma of musk, blended with the odour of the warm earth, pinguid with +the humus of flowers. It was so dark in the gardens through which the +rickshaw-man was running that only by his heavy breathing and by the +scanty light of the little lantern upon the shaft, could one gather +that he was bearing down upon one. Then, beneath the black canopies +of the trees, came the faint glimmering of the rotting lagoon; and +next,--red lights lengthily reflected in it. The big two-storied house +in which the agent lived shone through and through in this tropical +blackness with the openings of its windows. It was dark in the +compound. A large number of rickshaw-men, their bodies blending into +the darkness and their loin cloths showing dimly white, had come into +this compound with those who had been invited. And the large balcony, +open toward the lagoon, was aglow with candles in glass chimneys, +clustered about with countless thrips; it was dazzling with the cover +of the long table, set with china, bottles, and pails of ice, and was +white with the dinner jackets of the people sitting at it, who ate, +drank, and without a moment’s silence, even though restrainedly, spoke +deep down in their throats, as bare-footed corpulent servants, that +looked like wet-nurses, waited upon them, their bare soles rustling. +And an enormous punkah of Chinese matting, attached by one edge to the +ceiling, swayed and swayed over their heads, brought into motion by +Malayans sitting behind a partition that did not reach to the ceiling, +and kept pouring a constant current of air upon the diners, upon their +cold and clammy foreheads. Rickshaw-man number seven dashed up to the +balcony. Those seated at the table greeted the newly arrived guest with +glad murmuring. The guest jumped out of the little carriage and ran up +into the balcony. As for the rickshaw-man, he started off at a gallop +to go round the house, in order to get again to the gates, into the +compound, to the other rickshaws. And, as he was turning the corner +of the house, he suddenly recoiled, as though he had been struck with +a stick: standing near an open and illuminated window on the second +story,--in a small Japanese kimona of red silk, in a triple necklace +of rubies, in broad bracelets of gold upon her round arms,--looking +upon him with round shining eyes was his bride: that very girl-woman +with whom he had agreed, already a half-year back, to exchange balls +of rice! She could not see him below, in the darkness. But he had +recognized her instantly,--and, having staggered back, stood stock +still on the spot. + +He did not fall down, his heart did not burst asunder,--it was too +young and strong. Having stood for a minute or so, he sat down on the +ground, under an age-old fig-tree, whose entire top, like a tree of +paradise, burned and flickered with the dust of fiery-green sparks. For +a long time did he gaze upon the dark round little head, upon the red +silk that loosely embraced the little body, and upon the arms, raised +as she patted her hairdress, of her who stood framed in the window. He +squatted on his heels until she had turned about and had gone into the +recesses of the room. And when she had disappeared he instantly jumped +to his feet, caught the shafts that had been lying on the ground, and +flew like a bird through the yard and out of the gates; again did he +start running, on and on,--this time knowing unerringly whither he +was running, and wherefore, and now himself directing his suddenly +liberated will. + +“Awake, awake!” clamoured within him the thousands of soundless voices +of his mournful ancestors, mouldered for hundreds of generations in +this paradisaical earth. “Shake off thee the seductions of Mara, the +dream of this brief life! Is sleep for thee,--thou who hast been +empoisoned with venom, pierced through with an arrow! An hundredfold +doth he suffer who hath that which is an hundredfold dear; all +sorrows, all complaints, come from love, from the attachments of the +heart,--therefore, slay thou them! Not for long shalt thou be in the +tranquillity of rest; anew and anew, in a thousand incarnations, shalt +thou be put forth by this thy land of Eden, the shelter of the first +men who had come to know desire. But still this brief rest shall come +to thee, thou that hast too early run forth upon the path of life, +passionately setting out after happiness, and that hast been wounded +by the sharpest of all arrows,--by the yearning for love and for new +inceptions in this ancient universe, where from time out of mind the +conqueror stands with a heavy sole upon the throat of the conquered!” + +The lights of the open air stalls of Slave Island appeared under the +canopies of the trees whose tops were interlaced. The rickshaw-man +hungrily ate in one of these stalls a small bowl of rice over-spiced +with pepper, and then darted on. He knew where the old man from +Madura lived, who had an hour ago entered the yard of the hotel: he +dwelt with his nephew, at his large fruit store, in a low house with +wooden columns. The nephew, in a dirty European suit of duck, with an +enormous mane of black twining wool upon his head, was dragging in the +baskets of fruits into the interior of the store, his eyes puckering +from the smoke of a cigarette that had stuck to his lower lip. He +paid no attention to the insane appearance of the perspiring, heated +rickshaw-man. And the rickshaw-man silently hopped up under the shelter +of the awning, among the pillars, went to the left, and with his foot +pushed a small door behind which he hoped to find the old mute. In his +perspiring hand he was clutching a treasured gold-piece, which, while +he was still running, he had taken out of a leather pouch that hung at +his belt, beneath his apron. And the gold-piece speedily did its work. +When the rickshaw-man jumped out again, he bore a large cigar box, +tied with a cord. He had paid a great price for it, but then, it was +not empty: that which it contained was struggling, writhing, knocking +against the lid with its tensed coils, swishingly. + +Why did he take the little carriage along with him? For take it along +he did,--and at an even, powerful pace flew for the shore of the ocean, +toward Gull Face Place. The place was empty; darkly did it extend into +the distance under the light of the stars. Beyond it were scattered +the small and infrequent lights of the Fort, and against the sky was +slowly turning the watch-tower of the lighthouse, with its reflectors, +throwing fumid stripes of white light in the direction of the roadstead +only. The rickshaw-man felt a faint cool breeze blowing from the ocean, +whose drowsy murmur was barely audible. Having reached at a run the +shore, the middle of the road, the rickshaw-man for the last time threw +down the slender shafts, into which at such an early age, but not for +long, life had harnessed him, and sat down,--this time not upon the +ground, but on a bench; sat down without fear, as though he were a +white resident. + +In giving a whole pound to the Hindu, he had demanded the smallest +and the strongest, the most death-bearing one. And it was,--besides +having a faery beauty, being all in black rings, with green edgings, +with a dark blue rounded head, with an emerald stripe back of its head, +and with a funereal tail,--it was, despite its small size, unusually +powerful and malignant; but now, after it had been coiled up in a +smelly wooden box, it was especially so. It coiled convulsively, like +a steel spring; it writhed, rustled, and knocked against the lid of +the box. And he rapidly untied, unwound the cord.... However, who +knows just how he did it? Were his hands steady, or did they tremble? +Was he rapid, resolute, or no? And did he waver long after untying the +cord? Did he gaze for long at the murmurous dark ocean, upon the faint +starlight, upon the Southern Cross, the Crow, upon Canopus? Did he +bare his teeth in a canine snarl in the direction of the residential +quarter, in the direction of the rich hotel with its entrance shining +in the distance? Most probably, he had at once unhesitatingly opened +the box, and had laid his left hand firmly upon those springy coils, +icy as a dead body, that were writhing in the box; he was bitten right +in the palm. + +And that bite is intolerably searing,--it is like the shock of +an electric current, and transpierces a man’s entire body with +untold pain, with such torture that after feeling it even monkeys +cry out piteously and burst into sobs,--childish, passionate, +despairingly-imploring. The rickshaw-man, most probably, did neither +cry out nor burst into sobs; full well did he know what he had set +out to do. But there is no doubt that, having felt this fiery shock, +he turned a pin-wheel on the bench, and that the box flew aside. And +then, instantly, a bottomless darkness spread out beneath him, and +all things darted off somewhere upward, obliquely: the ocean, and the +stars, and the lights of the hotel. The surging of the ocean went +to his head,--and ceased abruptly: a dead faint always occurs after +such a shock. But after such a faint a man always comes quickly to +himself,--seemingly only to be nauseated, until blood comes, and to be +again plunged into non-being. There are several of these death-swoons, +and each one of them, breaking a man, making him gasp, tears away human +life, in parts; thought, memory, vision, hearing, pain, grief, joy, +hatred,--and that ultimate, all-embracing thing which is called love, +the yearning to encompass within one’s heart all the universe, seen and +unseen, and to bestow it anew upon some other. + + * * * * * + +Some ten days later, on a dark, sultry dusk before a thunder-storm, +two pair of oarsmen were racing in a small boat through the harbour of +Colombo, toward a great Russian steamship that was about to sail for +Suez. The passenger whom rickshaw-man number seven had once carried was +half-reclining in the boat. The steamer was already booming with the +rattling of the rising anchor chain, when, getting near the enormous +iron wall of the ship’s side, he ran up the long trap-ladder to the +deck. The captain at first flatly refused to take him on board: the +steamer carried freight only, he declared; the agent had already gone +away,--the thing was impossible. “But I beg you,--very, very much!” +retorted the Englishman. The captain looked at him with wonder; he was +apparently strong, energetic, but there was the tint of an unwholesome +tan upon his face, while the eyes behind the glistening spectacles were +unmoving, seeming to see nothing, and perturbed. “Wait until the day +after to-morrow,” said the captain; “there will be a German mail-packet +then.” “Yes, but to spend two more nights at Colombo would be very +hard for me,” answered the Englishman. “This climate exhausts me,--my +nerves trouble me. Besides that, the German packet, as is always the +case, will be packed to overflowing, whereas I desire to be alone. I +am done up by these Ceylon nights, by insomnia, and by all that which +a nervous man experiences before thunder-storms at dusk. But just +glance at this darkness, at these clouds that have obscured the horizon +everywhere: the night will again be a horrible one, the rain season +has, properly speaking, already set in....” And, with a shrug of his +shoulders, upon reflection, the captain gave in. And a minute later the +Senegalese, thin as eels, were already dragging up the trap-ladder a +trunk covered with shining black leather, all gay with vari-coloured +labels and marked with red initials. + +The surgeon’s vacant cabin, which was put at the disposal of the +Englishman, was very small and stuffy; but the Englishman found it +splendid. Having hurriedly disposed his things about it, he passed +through the dining cabin up to the deck. Everything was rapidly sinking +in the darkness. The ship had already weighed anchor and was heading +for the open sea. To the right, other ships, with lights on their +masts, seemed to be sailing toward them,--these were the lights of the +Fort. To the left, under the high taffrail, the shifting level expanse +of the dark water rushed toward the low shore, toward the mounds of +coal, and the dark density of the groves of slender trunked palms that +were beyond the coal mounds. The water still bounded the darkness +and the mournfulness of the clouds, and its shifting rapidity made +one’s head reel. Constantly veering, constantly increasing, a humid, +nauseatingly-fragrant wind was blowing from somewhere. The taciturn +clouds suddenly burst into such an abysmal pale-blue light, that, lit +up by it, in the very depth of the forest, the trunks of the palms and +bananas, and the Senegalese huts underneath them, flashed upon the +vision. The Englishman blinked in affright; he looked over his shoulder +upon the pallid jetty with the little red light at the end of it, by +now seemingly sailing upon his left; he looked at the leaden-hued ocean +in the distance, beyond the jetty,--and quickly started back for his +cabin. + +The old steward, a man irritated with fatigue, needlessly suspicious +and observant, peeped in several times behind the curtain of the +Englishman’s cabin before dinner. The Englishman was sitting on a +folding canvas chair, holding a thick leather-bound note-book on his +knees. He was writing in it with a gold-tipped pen, and his expression, +whenever he raised his face, his spectacles flashing, was dull, and, +at the same time, wondering. Then, having put his pen away, he went +off into a brown study, as though he were listening to the surging +and swishing of the waves, ponderously rushing by on the other side +of the cabin wall. The steward passed by, swinging a clamorous little +bell. The Englishman got up and stripped himself naked. Having sponged +himself off with water and eau-de-cologne from head to foot, he shaved, +clipped evenly his short, bushy moustache, painstakingly smoothed down +with military brushes his straight black hair, parting it at a slant, +put on fresh linen and his dinner jacket, and went to dinner with his +habitual firm, soldierly bearing. + +The ship’s personnel, who had long since been seated at table and +had been swearing at him for his lateness, met him with exaggerated +politeness, showing off before one another with their knowledge of +English. He responded with a restrained, but not a lesser, politeness, +and hastened to add that he liked the Russian cuisine very much, +that he had been in Russia, in Siberia.... That, in general, he had +travelled a great deal, and had always borne up splendidly on his +travels, which, however, could not be said of his last stay in India, +in Java and Ceylon; here his liver was affected, his nerves were +upset,--he had even come to eccentricities: such, for example, as that +which he had shown an hour ago when he had so suddenly appeared on +the steamer.... At coffee he regaled the ship’s men with cognac and +_liqueurs_; he fetched a box of thick Egyptian cigarettes and put it +on the table, open, for common use. The captain, a man still young, +with clever and steady eyes, who endeavoured to be a European in all +things, began a conversation about the colonial problems of Europe, +about the Japanese, about the future of the Far East. Listening +attentively, the Englishman objected or agreed. He spoke well, and +not at all with simplicity, but as though he were reading aloud from +a well-written article. And at times he would suddenly grow quiet, +still more attentively trying to catch the swish of the waves beyond +the open door. The thunderstorm had been left behind. Long since the +chain of Colombo’s lights, that for a long while had been playing +like diamonds, had sunk into black velvet. Now the steamer was in +infinite darkness, in the void of ocean and of night. The dining cabin +was situated on deck, under the captain’s bridge, and the darkness +was etched in an intense black within the open doors and windows: it +seemed to be standing and gazing in into the brightly lit dining room. +A humid breeze blew out of this darkness,--the humid, free breath of a +something free since the start of time,--and its freshness, reaching +those seated at table, made them feel the odour of the tobacco smoke, +of the hot coffee, and of the liqueurs. But at times the electric +light would suddenly fail,--the doors and the windows then became +gleaming pale blue quadrangles; the blue abyss of abysses, noiseless +and unutterably expansive, spread out around the steamer; the running +swell of the watery spaces gleamed; the horizons were flooded with a +blackness as of coal,--and thence, like the grievous murmur of the +Creator Himself, still plunged in primordial chaos, came to their ears +the roll of thunder,--muffled, sombre and triumphant, shaking all +things to their foundation. And at such times the Englishman seemed to +be frozen on the spot for a moment. + +“This is really frightful!” said he in his lifeless but steady voice +after a flash especially blinding. And, getting up from his place, he +walked up to the door that gaped into the darkness. “Very frightful,” +said he, as though he were talking to himself. “And the most frightful +thing of all is that we do not think, do not feel, and cannot, have +forgotten how to feel the full frightfulness of this.” + +“What, precisely?” asked the captain. + +“Why, just this for example,” answered the Englishman, “that under +us and around us is that bottomless depth, that shifting trough of +the sea of which the Bible speaks with such awesomeness.... Oh,” said +he sternly, looking intently into the darkness, “both far and near, +everywhere, the furrows of foam flare up, flaming with green, and the +darkness surrounding this foam is lilac-black, the colour of a raven’s +wing.... Is it a very eerie thing to be a captain?” he asked gravely. + +“Why no, not at all,” answered the captain with assumed nonchalance. +“It’s a tiresome business, and responsible, but, in reality not very +complicated.... It is all a matter of habit....” + +“Better say,--of our callousness,” said the Englishman. “To be standing +there, up on your bridge, at whose sides these two great eyes,--the +green and the red,--look out, blurred, through their thick glass, and +to be sailing somewhere into the darkness of night and water, extending +for thousands of miles around,--it is madness! But, however, it is no +better,” he added, again glancing out of the door, “it is no better, on +the other hand, to be lying below in a cabin, beyond whose exceedingly +thin wall, near your very head, beats and rolls this bottomless +deep.... Yes, yes,--our reason is just as feeble as the reason of a +mole; or, rather, still more feeble, for in the case of a mole, of an +animal, of a savage, instinct, at least, has been preserved; whereas +with us, with Europeans, it has degenerated, is degenerating!” + +“However, moles do not navigate over the entire terrestrial globe,” +answered the captain smiling. “Moles do not enjoy the benefits of +steam, of electricity, of wireless telegraphy. Do you wish to hear me +speak with Aden right now? And yet it is a ten days’ sail from here.” + +“And that, too, is frightful,” said the Englishman, and cast a stern +glance through his spectacles at one of the engineers who had started +laughing. “Yes, that too is very frightful. For we, in reality, do not +fear anything. We do not fear even death properly: neither life, nor +sacred mysteries, nor the depths that surround us, nor death,--neither +our death nor that of others! I am a colonel of the British Army, a +participant of the Boer War; I, commanding cannons to be fired, used to +kill men in hundreds; and here I am, not only neither suffering nor +going out of my mind because I am a murderer, but never even thinking +of these hundreds.” + +“What about the beasts, and the savages,--do they think of such +things?” asked the captain. + +“The savages believe that things have to be so, whereas we don’t,” said +the Englishman, and became silent; he started pacing the dining room, +trying to step as firmly as he could in his dancing shoes. + +The flashes of the distant thunder storm, gleaming roseately over the +stars, were by now decreasing. The wind blowing through the windows and +doors was stronger and cooler, the impenetrable darkness beyond the +door surged more loudly. A large sea-shell that served as an ash-tray +was sliding upon the table. Under one’s feet, growing unpleasantly +weaker, one felt something gathering force below, lifting one up, then +falling over on one side, spreading out,--and the floor fell deeper +and deeper from under one’s feet. The ship’s men, having finished +their coffee and smoked their fill, sat in silence for several minutes +more, casting glances at their queer passenger; then, wishing him +good-night, they began picking up their caps. The captain alone stayed +on,--he was smoking and following the Englishman with his eyes. The +Englishman, with a cigar, was walking, swayingly, from door to door; +his dark complexion, his spectacles, and his seriousness combined with +absent-mindedness, irritated the old steward, who was clearing the +table. + +“Yes, yes,” said the Englishman, “there is only one thing frightful +to us,--that we have forgotten how to feel fear! There is no God, no +religion in Europe, long since; we, with all our business activity and +greed, are as cold as ice both toward life and toward death. Even if +we do fear death, it is with our reason or only with the remnants of +an animal instinct. At times we even try to inspire ourself with that +dread, to exaggerate it,--and still we do not respond, do not feel in +due measure those incomprehensible and horrible things of which the +life of man is full.... Just as I, even I, do not now feel that which +I myself have called fearful,” said he, pointing toward the open door, +beyond which the impenetrable darkness murmured, by now raising high +the prow, and tumbling the ship, all of whose partitions were creaking, +from one side to the other. + +“It is Ceylon that has affected you so,” said the captain mechanically. + +“Oh, beyond a doubt, beyond a doubt!” agreed the Englishman. “We +all,--commercial men, mechanical engineers, military men, politicians, +colonizers,--we all, fleeing from our own dullness and vanity, +wander all the world over; for you will agree that the number of +travelling Europeans is increasing with a magic rapidity; that the +entire terrestrial globe is plastered over with motley placards and +time-tables. And we try with all our might to be enraptured, now with +the mountains and lakes of Switzerland, now with the pauperism of +Italy,--her pictures and the broken-up fragments of her statues and +columns. Or we wander over the slippery stones which have survived from +some amphitheatres in Sicily, or we gaze with simulated delight upon +the yellow heaps of rubble at the Acropolis in Greece; or attend, as +though it were some show-booth spectacle at a fair, the distribution +of the sacred fire in Jerusalem. We pay sums unheard of in order +to undergo tortures from guides and fleas in the tombs and clay +idol-temples of Egypt. We sail to India, to China, to Japan,--and it +is only here, upon the soil of the most ancient of mankind, in this +Eden which we have forfeited, which we style our colonies and which we +covetously despoil, in the midst of squalor, bubonic plague, cholera, +fevers, and coloured races whom we have turned into cattle,--only +here do we feel, in some slight measure, life, death, godhood. Here, +after having remained indifferent toward all these Osirises, Zeuses, +Appolons, toward Christ, toward Mahomet, have I more than once felt +that I might perhaps have bowed only before them,--these fearful +Gods of this cradle of mankind: before the hundred-armed Brahma; +before Siva; before the Devil; before Buddha, whose word verily rang +forth like the utterance of Methuselah himself, driving nails into +the coffin-lid of the universe.... Yes, thanks only to the East, and +to the diseases contracted in the East; thanks to the fact that in +Africa I slaughtered men by the hundreds; that in India, which is +being despoiled by England, and, therefore, in part by me, I have seen +thousands dying from hunger; that I had bought little girls in Japan to +be my wives for a month; that in China I had beaten defenseless, simian +old men over their heads with a stick; that in Java and Ceylon I had +driven rickshaw-men until I heard the death rattle in their throats; +that I had, in my time, contracted a most cruel fever in Anaradhapore, +and liver trouble on the shore of Malabar,--only thanks to all this do +I still feel and think, after a fashion. Those lands, those countless +peoples, which still either live a life of infantile immediacy, +sentient with all their beings of existence, and death, and the +divine majesty of the universe; or those lands and peoples which have +already traversed a long and arduous path (historical, religious and +philosophical), and who have grown wearied on this path,--such lands +and peoples we, the men of the new age of iron, aspire to enslave, to +divide amongst us, and this we style our colonial problems. And when +this division shall come to an end, then on this world will again be +enthroned the might of some new Tyre or Sidon, a new Rome, English or +German. There will be repeated, inevitably repeated, also that which +had been prophesied by Judæan prophets to Sidon, that, according to +the word of the Bible, had grown to deem itself God; that which had +been prophesied to Rome by the Apocalypse; and to India, to the Aryan +tribes that had enslaved it, by Buddha, who has said, ‘O ye princes, +ye men in power, rich in treasures, who have arrayed your covetousness +against one another, insatiably pandering to your lusts! ...’ Buddha +understood the significance of the life of Individuality in this ‘world +of having been,’ in this universe, whose meaning we cannot attain +to, and he was horrified with a sacred horror. Whereas we exalt our +Individuality above the heavens; we want to centre all the world within +it, no matter what may be said of the coming universal brotherhood and +equality. And so it is only on the ocean, under stars new and foreign +to us, in the midst of the majesty of tropical thunder storms; or in +India, in Ceylon, where history is so immeasurable, where at times one +glimpses life veritably primitive, and where on dark, sultry nights, +in the fevered gloom, one feels man melting, dissolving in this +blackness, in these sounds, scents, in this fearful All-Oneness,--only +there do we in a slight measure grasp the meaning of this our pitiful +Individuality.... Do you know,” said he, halting again, and flashing +his spectacles at the captain, “a certain Buddhistic legend?” + +“Which one?” asked the captain, who had already yawned surreptitiously +and had glanced at his watch. + +“Why, this: A raven darted after an elephant who was running down +a wooded mountain toward the sea; wrecking all things in his path, +breaking down the overgrowths, the elephant plunged into the +waves,--and the raven, tortured by ‘desire,’ fell after him, and, +having waited until the elephant had swallowed enough water to kill +himself and had floated up on the waves, descended on the carcass with +its great ears; the carcass floated on, putrefying, while the raven +greedily pecked away at it; but when he came to his senses, he saw that +he had been borne far, far from land,--to a distance from which there +is no return even upon the wings of a gull,--and he began cawing in a +piteous voice, that voice for which Death waits so warily.... It is a +terrible legend!” + +“Yes, it is very significant,” said the captain, indifferently. + +The Englishman lapsed into silence and again began pacing from door to +door. From the surging darkness faintly floated in the sounds of the +second bell, abrupt and, as is always the case on the ocean, plaintive. +The captain, after having sat for five minutes more out of politeness, +got up, shook the Englishman’s hand, and went off to his big, restful +cabin. The Englishman, reflecting upon something, continued pacing. The +steward, having endured for half an hour more in the pantry, entered +and with an angry face began switching off the electricity, leaving +only one bulb lit. The Englishman, when the steward had disappeared, +walked up to the wall and turned off this bulb as well. Darkness +descended at once, the surging of the waves at once appeared louder, +and the starry sky, the masts, the sail-yards at once appeared in +the open windows. The steamer creaked and clambered from one watery +mountain to another. It swung wider and wider, rising and falling,--and +in its rigging Canopus, the Crow, the Southern Cross swayed widely to +and fro, now flying toward the abyss above, now toward the abyss below, +and roseate auroras were still flashing above them. + +_1914._ + + + + +GAUTAMI + + +This is a tale thrice beautiful in its brevity and unpretentiousness, +its meaning and the manner of its telling; a tale of the love of +Gautami, the saintly and the beatified, who, without knowing it +herself, did come under the sheltering shadow of the Blessed One. + +Thus have we heard it told: + +In a populous hamlet, in a felicitous region, at the foot of the great +Himalayas, in a family poor but worthy, was Gautami born. + +She was tall of stature and rather lean at first sight; swarthy +and pleasant of face was she, and simple and unpretentious of +soul,--therefore did the neighbours bestow an unkind by-name upon her. +“Gautami the Lean” did they nickname her, but she took no offense +thereat. And every order did she obey, and to every order she made such +answer as: + +“’Tis well, dear master; I shall do so. ’Tis well, dear mistress, I +shall do so.” + +For may plain speech be forgiven us,--not of the wisest among men and +women was Gautami. But neither did she utter anything foolish,--perhaps +because she did not say much, and laboured at something from morning +till night. And the raiment upon her was always poor, and always, +always the same, but always neat. And so one day a youth, truly rich +and handsome, the son of the great king of that region, did behold her +upon a river bank, when she was washing the linen of her sisters and +brothers, and he comprehended that she was sensible and submissive, and +that there was none to take her part,--not even her parents. + +Thus did he think: + +“‘There is no help for it,’ her parents will say; ‘Gautami is not of +the wisest, Gautami is not pretty to look upon; she does not resemble +a daughter of ours, but rather a servant,--who shall take her to wife? +Sooner or later, she shall submit to some man who may desire her,--for +Gautami is incapable of refusing. Ah, if only this man prove not +without pity, and will give away, to be rightly brought up, the child +that will be born of her!’” + +Thus did the king’s son think. + +As for Gautami, having washed and rinsed the linen, she squatted down +upon her heels over the water glistening in the sun; having taken off +all her raiment, she did swathe all her body from the arm-pits to the +knees in an old piece of cloth, and, having spread her long black hair, +began to clean her white teeth with a wetted, splintered little stick, +began to wash her swarthy limbs, not knowing that the king’s son was +watching her from behind the clumps of bamboo. And thereupon he did +call out to her, and, walking up to her, told her with a smile, yet not +unkindly: + +“Thou art endearing, Gautami, and not at all as lean as they say you +are,--a maid clad in simple raiment, and of tall stature, is often +misjudged. I have heard, Gautami, that thou art submissive. Do not +resist me, therefore; none shall see our caresses at this sultry hour, +near the deserted river.” + +And Gautami was abashed before him, before his assurances that his +wishes were righteous, and she did whisper in answer: + +“’Tis well, dear master; let it be as thou dost will.” + +And the king’s son, having had his joyance of her, saw that she was +better than she had seemed, and that her dark eyes, although they were +not expressive of thought, and somehow seemed always the same, were +never the less full of enchantment. And after that their meetings upon +the bank of the river, within the grove of bamboos, became frequent, +and so it was that, whenever the king’s son would order Gautami to +come to him, she always would come, never disobeying; nor did her +submissiveness and charm change with the intimacy of their bodies; nor +her agreeable manner when their conversation was brief. And when the +ordained time had run, she felt herself heavy with child. + +Thereupon did the king’s son take her as one of his concubines, +transferring her with her poor little kit, wherein she kept her modest +belongings, the sorry savings of a maiden who works, into his opulent +palace, and she lived in the palace until her time was come. + +And when her day had approached, one of the king’s stewardesses did say +to her: + +“Gautami! A wife who is about to become a mother goeth to the house of +her father to give birth, in fulfillment of the custom. But thou art no +wife, but a concubine. Go not therefore to the house of thy parents; +but also do not thou transgress against that which is seemly.” + +And Gautami, having salaamed before her, got up, and went out of the +gate of the clay walls that enclosed the palace. + +And, having passed over the wooden bridge that spanned a muddy canal, +which was near by, she saw one who sat under a tree, with a bowl in his +hand,--a blind and an ancient beggar, girt only about his middle with +a dirty rag, whereas his arms, his legs, his bosom and his withered, +glistening back he had exposed to the blazing sun and the flies. + +And the beggar raised his sightless face, hearkening to her steps, and +he smiled with the tender and poignant smile of the wisdom of old men. + +“Gautami!” spake he to her. “I see thee not but I feel thy approach. +Gautami, may thy path be blessed!” + +And she kissed the knee of the beggar and went on upon her way; and +upon her way, in the hot, sun-filled groves, among the satin trees, she +did give birth to her child before its time. + +And blissfully, having rested with tears of happiness after her sore +travail, she returned with the child in her arms into the palace of the +prince and gave full rein to her ceaseless ecstasy and tender delight, +to an emotion of bodily love for the new-born, to the delectable +disquiet of seeing, scenting, touching, and pressing to her bosom +this growing being, that with every day became more and more awake to +thought and consciousness. + +“My soul hath recalled thee!”--these words had not been uttered by the +prince to Gautami when he had become as one with her, even though she +had been dear to him, even though they had borne her to the palace of +the king with music, upon bullocks adorned with ribbands and flowers, +having arrayed her as for a bridal, dressing her black hair smoothly, +putting rouge on her cheeks, and blackening her eye-lashes with kohl. + +And Gautami, having given birth to the child, received submissively +the youth’s having grown cold toward her, and removed herself from his +sight, that he might not feel troubled and guilty upon meeting her by +chance. + +And, remaining within the enclosure of the palace, she settled in a +simple hut on the banks of the ponds, taking upon herself the duty +of feeding the swans that swam in those ponds among the grasses and +flowers. + +And for a time she was happy, preparing, without herself knowing +it, for those great sorrows which were destined to come in ordained +replacement of this happiness, and to put her upon the sole true path, +into the society of the religious brotherhood of those that go clad in +yellow. + +Blessed are the meek at heart, who have riven their chain. + +In an abode of the highest joy do we dwell, who love nothing in this +universe, and like to a bird are we, that beareth nothing with it but +its wings. + +_1919._ + + + + +THE SON + + +Mme. Marot had been born and had grown up in Lausanne, in a strict, +honest, and industrious family. She did not marry early, but when she +did, hers was a love match. In the March of 1876, among the passengers +of the old French steamer _Auvergne_, sailing from Marseilles to +Italy, was a newly married couple. The days were calm, cool; the sea, +all silvery mirrors, lost itself in the misty spring distances; the +newly-married couple scarcely ever left the deck. And all admired them, +all beheld their happiness with amiable smiles: he showed his happiness +in an alert, keen glance, in the necessity for motion, in an animated +amiability to all those around him; she, by that joyous interest, with +which she assimilated every trifle.... This newly married pair was the +Marots. + +He was some ten years her senior; he was short in height, swarthy of +face, with curly hair; his hand was thin, and his voice sonorous. But +in her one sensed an admixture of some blood other than that of the +Latins. She seemed just the least trifle too tall, although her waist +was splendid; though her hair was dark, her eyes were a grayish blue. +They travelled through Naples, Palermo and Tunis to the Algerian town +of Constantine, where Monsieur Marot had obtained a rather prominent +appointment. And life in Constantine those fourteen years which had +passed since that happy spring, had given them everything with which +people are usually content: a competance, domestic harmony, healthy and +handsome children. + +During these fourteen years the Marots had changed very much in +appearance: his face had become as black as an Arab’s, he had grown +gray and dried up from work, from travelling, from tobacco, and from +the sun,--many took him for a native of Algeria; nor would any one have +recognized her as the woman who had been a passenger upon the steamer +_Auvergne_: then, even in the shoes she put outside the door at night, +there had been the enchantment of youth; now she too had glints of +silver in her hair, her skin had grown finer and more aureate, her +hands had become thinner, and in her care of them, in the dressing of +her hair, in her linen, in her apparel, she already betrayed a certain +superfluous nicety. Their relations had changed as well, of course, +although none would have said that it was for the worse. And each one +led an individual existence: his time was taken up with work,--he still +remained as passionate, and, at the same time, as sober a man as he had +been before; she had to take care of him, of the children--two very +pretty girls, of whom the elder was by now almost a young lady,--and +everybody unanimously declared that there was not in all Constantine a +better housekeeper, a better mother, or a more charming person to chat +with in a drawing room, than Mme. Marot. + +Their house stood on a quiet and clean street. From the second story, +out of the front rooms, always in semi-darkness on account of the +closed Venetian blinds, could be seen Constantine, famed all over the +world for its picturesqueness: this ancient Arabian stronghold, which +had become a French city, lies upon sloping crags. The windows of +the living rooms, shady and cool, looked out upon the garden,--there, +in a perpetual blaze and glare, dozed age-old eucalypti, sycamores, +palms, behind their enclosures of high walls. The master of the house +frequently absented himself on matters connected with his work. As +for the mistress, she led that confined existence to which, in the +colonies, the wives of all Europeans are condemned. On Sundays she +invariably attended church. On week days she rarely went out and +restricted herself to a small, choice circle. She read, busied herself +with embroidery, chatted with the children or took part in their +lessons; sometimes, putting the dark-eyed Marie, her younger daughter, +on her knees, and playing on the pianoforte with one hand, she would +sing old-fashioned French songs, to make the long African day seem +shorter, while the hot wind entered in a flood from the garden through +the wide-open windows.... Constantine, under the pitiless blaze of the +sun and with all its shutters closed, seemed at these hours a dead +city: only the roller-birds called out behind the walls of the gardens, +and plaintively, with the nostalgia of colonial lands, sounded the +trumpets of the buglers on the knolls beyond the city, where at times +the cannons made the earth shake with a dull rumble, and one saw the +white helmets of the soldiers twinkling. + +The days in Constantine passed monotonously, but no one ever remarked +that Mme. Marot was oppressed by this. In her character, exquisite and +chaste, never appeared any heightened sensitiveness, nor any surplus +nervousness. Her health could not be called robust, but it never caused +any alarm to Monsieur Marot. Only one incident had struck him: once, +in Tunis, an Arab magician had put her so rapidly into a profound +sleep, that she had great difficulty in coming back to herself. But +this had been still at the time of their journey from France; since +that time she had not experienced any such sharp declines of will +power, any such unwholesome susceptibility. And Monsieur Marot was +happy, tranquil, and convinced that her soul was undisturbed and like +an open book to him. And so it really was, even during the last--the +fourteenth--year of his domestic life.... But now there appeared in +Constantine a certain Emile du Buys. + +Emile du Buys, son of Mme. Bonnet, an old and close friend of the +Marots, was only nineteen years of age. Mme. Bonnet, the widow of an +engineer, had also a daughter, Eliza, besides Emile, who was born of +the first marriage. He had grown up in Paris and was already reading +law; but, above all, he was taken up with the composition of verses +which were comprehensible to him alone, and had attached himself to +a non-existent school of poetry, “The Seekers.” In the May of 1889 +Eliza was preparing for the altar, but took sick and died a few days +after. Emile, who had never up to now been in Constantine, had come +for the funeral. It is easy to understand how touched Mme. Marot +was by this death,--this death of a girl who was already trying on +the bridal veil; everyone also knows how under such circumstances +intimacy is established even between people who have scarce come to +know one another. In addition, Emile was in reality only a boy to Mme. +Marot. Shortly after the funeral, Mme. Bonnet went to France, to her +relatives. Emile remained in Constantine, at the suburban county house +of his late stepfather,--at the Villa Hassim, as it was called in the +town,--and began to visit the Marots almost daily. No matter what sort +of a chap he may have been, or whatever he may have pretended to be, he +was, never the less, very young, very sensitive, and had need of people +with whom he might seek shelter for a time. “And isn’t it strange,” +said some, “Mme. Marot has become unrecognizable! How animated she has +become; how she has improved in looks!” + +However, these allusions were unfounded. At first all it amounted to +was that her existence became a trifle gayer, and that her girls became +more playful and coquettish, for Emile, every minute forgetting his +grief and that virus with which, as he thought, the _fin de siècle_ +had envenomed him, fussed for hours at a time with them, altogether +as their equal. Of course he was, after all, a man, a Parisian, and +not altogether of an ordinary nature; he had participated in that +life which Parisian writers lead, so inaccessible to common mortals; +frequently, with a certain somnambulistic expressiveness, he would read +strange but sonorous verses; and, perhaps, it was precisely thanks to +him that the step of Mme. Marot became lighter and quicker, her house +apparel just the least trifle smarter, and the nuances of her voice +kindlier and more mocking; there may have been, after all, a drop of +purely feminine joy in her soul over the fact that here was a man whom +it was possible to lord it over somewhat, with whom it was possible +to speak with a half jesting sententiousness, with that freedom which +was so naturally permitted by the difference in their years. And also +over the fact that here was one who was so devoted to her entire +household,--where, however, the first person for him (this, of course +was revealed very quickly) was still none other than she. But then, how +commonplace all this is! Yet for the most part he was merely pitiful to +her. + +He, who sincerely deemed himself a poet born, wanted to resemble a +poet in appearance as well; he wore his hair long, and tossed back; he +dressed with an artistic sobriety; he had fine brown hair, which went +well with his pale face, just as his black clothes did; but this pallor +was too anæmic, with a yellow tinge; his eyes glittered constantly, +but, because of his enervated face, they seemed feverish; and his chest +was so thin and flat, his legs were so thin, his hands so bony, that +one became somewhat ill at ease when he would grow immoderately lively +and would run through the street or garden, bending somewhat forward, +as though he were sliding, in order to hide his defect,--he had one leg +shorter than the other. In society he was disagreeable, supercilious; +he tried to be enigmatic, negligent; or, at times, exquisitely +impertinent, audacious, at others disdainfully absent-minded and +independent in all things; but only too frequently he did not sustain +his rôles to the end,--he would forget his part and begin speaking with +a certain naïve candour and impulsiveness. And, of course, he could not +manage to hide his feelings for long, to dissemble as an unbeliever in +love and happiness on this earth: the entire house soon knew of his +being in love. He had already begun to bore the master of the house +with his visits; he began to bring, every day, bouquets of the rarest +flowers from his villa, to sit at the Marots’ from morn till night, to +recite verses more and more incomprehensible,--the children heard him, +more than once, adjuring some one to die with him; while at nights +he took to disappearing in the native quarters, in those dives where +the Arabs, wrapped up in their dirty white _bournouses_, avidly watch +stomach dances and drink the most pungent of liquors.... To put it +briefly, not even a month and a half had gone before his inamoration +had passed into God only knows what. + +His nerves ceased entirely to serve him. Once he sat through almost an +entire day in silence; then got up, took his hat, and went out,--and +half an hour later was brought in from the street in a dreadful +condition: he was writhing in hysterics; he was sobbing so vehemently +that he frightened both the children and the domestics. But Mme. +Marot, it seemed, did not attach any special significance even to +this transport. She herself was restoring him back to consciousness, +herself hastily untying his cravat and persuading him to be a man, and +she only smiled when he, without any restraint whatsoever before her +husband, caught at her hands, covering them with kisses and vowing his +disinterested devotion. Still, it was necessary to put an end to all +this. And so when Emile, whom the children had soon missed, again made +his appearance several days after the fit, already calmed, even though +he resembled a man who had gone through a severe illness, Mme. Marot +gently told him all that is usually said in such cases. + +“My friend, you are really like a son to me,” she had said to him, +uttering for the first time this word, “son,” and really feeling almost +a maternal tenderness toward him. “Do not, then, put me in a ridiculous +and painful position.” + +“But I swear to you that you are mistaken!” he exclaimed, with earnest +vehemence. “I am only devoted to you; I only want to see you, and no +more!” + +And he suddenly fell down on his knees,--they were in the garden on a +calm, sultry, dusky evening,--impulsively seized her by the hips, on +the verge of fainting from passion.... And gazing upon his hair, upon +his white, slender neck, she, with anguish and rapture, reflected: + +“Ah,--yes, yes, I could have had a son almost the same as he!” + +Still, from that time until his very departure for France, he committed +no more insane actions. Essentially this was bad; it may have signified +that his passion had become deeper. But outwardly everything had +changed for the better,--only one other time he could not restrain +himself. After dinner one Sunday, in the presence of several strangers, +he said to her, without at all reflecting that this might attract +attention: + +“I most earnestly entreat you to grant me one minute....” + +She got up and went with him into the empty, half-dark parlour. He +walked up to the window, through which the evening light penetrated +from outside in narrow longitudinal streaks, and, looking her straight +in the face, said: + +“To-day is the anniversary of my father’s death. I love you!” + +She turned to go away. Frightened, he hastened to add as she was going +away: + +“Forgive me,--this is the first time and the last!” + +And truly, she heard no new admissions from him. “I was enchanted by +her confusion,” he wrote in his diary that evening, in his choice and +grandiloquent style; “I vowed to violate her peace no more: for am I +not beatified even as it is?” He continued going into the town,--he +only slept at the Villa Hassim; and his behaviour varied, but he always +observed a greater or lesser degree of seemliness. At times he was, as +formerly, inappropriately playful, naïve, romping with the children in +the garden; most frequently of all, however, he sat near her and “drank +in her presence,” read newspapers and novels to her, and “was happy +because she listened to him.” “The children did not interfere with us,” +he wrote of these days, “their voices, laughter, bustle, their very +beings, seemed to serve as the finest of conductors for our emotions; +thanks to them these emotions were still more enchanting; we held the +commonest of every day conversations, but something else could be +heard in them,--our happiness; yes,--yes; she, too was happy, I affirm +this. She liked to hear me declaim; of evenings, from the balcony, we +contemplated Constantine lying at our feet in the blue radiance of the +moon....” Finally, in August, Mme. Marot insisted upon his going away, +returning to his studies,--and won; and _en route_ he entered in his +diary: “I am going away! Going away, empoisoned by the bitter delight +of parting! She has bestowed upon me, in parting, a bit of velvet +ribbon that she had worn about her neck as a girl. When the last minute +came, she gave me her blessing, and I saw a humid sparkle in her eyes +when she said: ‘Farewell, dear son of mine!...’” + +Whether he was right in his conjecture that Mme. Marot also was happy +in August, is not known. But that his departure proved painful to +her is beyond a doubt. This word “son,” which had stirred her even +previously, now took on such a sound for her that she could not hear it +in peace. Even formerly, upon meeting friends on her way to church, who +would jestingly say to her: “What should you pray about, Mme. Marot; +you are without sin and happy as it is!” she had, more than once, +replied with a sad smile: “I complain to God because he has deprived +me of a son....” Now the thought of a son, of that happiness which he +would have ceaselessly given her by his mere existence in this world, +never left her. And once, shortly after the departure of Emile, she had +said to her husband: + +“Now I have comprehended everything! I now know surely, that every +mother ought to have a son; that every woman who has no son, if she +will but ponder upon herself, will check up her entire life, will see +that she is unhappy. You are a man, you cannot feel this, but it is +so.... Oh, how tenderly and passionately one can love a son!” + +She was very kind to her husband that fall. Occasionally, when she +would be left alone with him, she would shyly say to him: + +“Hector, listen.... I am ashamed now to ask you about it,--but +still.... Do you ever recall the March of ’seventy-six? ... Ah, if only +you and I had a son!” + +“All this confused me very much,” Monsieur Marot would say +subsequently,--“it confused me all the more because she began to grow +very thin. She was growing weaker, was becoming more and more silent +and gentle in manner. She went less and less often to her friends,--she +avoided going to the city unless it were unavoidable.... I do not doubt +that some dreadful and incomprehensible ailment was taking possession +of her soul and body!” While the _bonne_ added that, whenever Mme. +Marot went out of the house that fall, she always put on a thick white +veil,--something she had never done before; that, returning home, +she would immediately raise her veil in front of a mirror and would +intently scrutinize her tired face. It is superfluous to explain +that which went on in her soul at this time. But did she want to see +Emile, did he write to her, and did she reply to him? He presented +two dispatches at court, purporting to be addressed to him, in answer +to his letters. One was dated the tenth of November: “You are driving +me mad. Calm yourself. Let me have immediate news of yourself.” The +other, the twenty-third of December: “No, no, do not come, I implore +you. Think of me, love me, as a mother.” But the certainty of these +dispatches having been sent by her could not be proven, of course. One +thing only is certain,--that from September until January Mme. Marot +led a distressed, troubled, painful existence. + +The late autumn of that year in Constantine was cold and rainy. Then, +as is always the case in Algeria, a ravishing spring came on. And an +animation,--that beatific, exquisite headiness which is experienced at +the time of the blossoming of spring by people who have already left +their youth behind them,--again began to return to Mme. Marot. She +again began to go out; rode out a great deal with her children, went +with them to the garden of the deserted Villa Hassim; she contemplated +an excursion to Algiers,--to show her children Blidah, near which, in +the mountains, there is a wooded ravine, a spot beloved of monkeys.... +And so things went right up to the seventeenth of January in the year +of 1890. On the seventeenth of January, she awoke from some unusually +joyous and tender emotion, which, so it had seemed to her, had stirred +her all night long. In the large room where she slept alone during the +absence of her husband, who had gone away for a long time on matters +connected with his post, it was almost dark because of the Venetian +blinds and the window curtains. Still, by that blueish pallor which +penetrated from behind them, one could gather that it was still early. +And, in confirmation, the little clock on the night-table pointed +to six. With an enjoyable sense of the morning freshness entering +from the garden, she rolled up in a light blanket and turned to the +wall.... “Why do I feel so fine?” she thought, dozing off. And, like +dim, beautiful visions, pictures of Italy, of Sicily, began to appear +before her, pictures of that distant spring when she was sailing in a +cabin whose windows looked out on deck, upon the chill silvery shimmer +of the sea; a cabin with portieres of red silk, shrivelled and faded +by time, and with a high threshold glittering with brass that had been +worn down by many years of cleaning.... Then she saw the limitless bays +of the sea; lagoons; lowlands; a great Arabian town, all white, with +flat roofs, and with undulating mistily blue knolls and foot-hills +beyond it. This was Tunis, in which she had been but once, on that +very same spring when she had been in Naples, and in Palermo.... But +here a wave of cold seemed to go through her,--and, with a shiver, she +opened her eyes. It was already going on nine o’clock; one could hear +the voices of the children, the voice of their _bonne_. She arose, +threw on a _peignoir_, and, stepping out on the balcony, descended +into the garden and sat down on a rocker, standing in the sand near +a round table underneath a mimosa in blossom, spreading its golden +canopy overhead, its fragrance heavy in the sun. The maid brought her +coffee. She again began to think of Tunis, and recalled that strange +experience she had gone through, that sweet fear and that beatific +abnegation of her will which was like that of pre-mortal moments,--an +experience she had undergone in that pale blue city in the warm, rosy +dusk, half-reclining in a rocker on the roof of a house, vaguely seeing +the dark face of the Arab hypnotist and magician who was squatting on +his heels before her, lulling her to sleep with his barely audible, +monotonous sing-song, and the slow movements of his thin hands. And +suddenly, even as she was thinking thus and mechanically gazing with +eyes wide-open upon a bright silvery spark with which a teaspoon in a +glass of water was aflame, she suddenly lost conscience. And when she +came to with a start, Emile was standing over her. All that took place +subsequent to this unexpected meeting is known from the words of Emile +himself,--from his story, from his answers to interrogations. “Yes, I +dropped into Constantine as though from heaven!” he had said. “I had +come because I had comprehended that the powers of heaven itself could +not stop me. On the morning of the seventeenth of January, straight +from the station, without any word of warning, I appeared at the house +of Monsieur Marot and ran into the garden. I was dumbfounded by that +which met my eyes; but I had scarce made a step when she came to. +She, it seemed, was also amazed, both by the unexpectedness of my +appearance, and that which she had just been through; but she did +not even emit an exclamation. Having looked at me, like a person just +awakened from a deep sleep, she got up from her seat, putting her hair +in order. + +“‘That’s the very presentiment I had,’ she said, somehow without any +expression. ‘You did not obey me!’ + +“And with an accustomed gesture, having buttoned the _peignoir_ at her +breast, she took my head in both her hands and kissed me twice on the +forehead. + +“I lost my head from rapture and passion, but she gently put me aside +and said: + +“‘Let us go; I am not dressed,--I shall return at once, go to the +children....’ + +“‘But, for God’s sake, what was the matter with you?’ I asked, +ascending after her to the balcony. + +“‘Oh, a mere nothing--a slight trance. I had gazed too long at a +glittering tea-spoon,’ she was answering, getting control of herself, +and beginning to speak with more animation. ‘But what have you done, +what have you done!’ + +“I did not find the children anywhere; the house was empty and quiet; +I sat down in the parlour. Suddenly I heard her begin singing in a +distant room in a strong, sonorous voice, but I did not then comprehend +all the horror of that sound, because I was all atremble with a nervous +ague. I had not slept all night; I had counted the minutes as the train +had sped me toward Constantine; I jumped into the first _fiacre_ I had +met upon running out of the depot; I did not expect to reach the height +of the city.... I knew, I, too, had a premonition, that my arrival +would be fatal for us; but still I could not expect that which I had +seen in the garden, this mystical meeting, and such a sharp change in +her attitude toward me! After ten minutes, she came out with her hair +dressed, in a light-gray dress of an iris tint. + +“‘Ah,’ said she, as I was kissing her hand, ‘but I had forgotten that +to-day is Sunday, and that the children are in church; but then, I +have over-slept.... The children will go to the pine grove after +church,--were you ever there?’ + +“And, without waiting for my answer, she rang, ordered some coffee to +be served to me, and, sitting down, began to look at me intently, and, +without listening, began to question me as to how I had lived, what I +had been doing. She started to speak about herself, of the fact that +after two or three months, which had been very bad for her, during +which she had aged dreadfully,--these words were uttered with sort +of incomprehensible smile,--she was feeling well, as young as never +before.... I replied, I listened, but did not understand a great deal; +both of us said anything but that which we wanted to say; my hands +grew chill from the nearness of that other fearful, inevitable hour. +I do not deny that I was struck as if by lightning when she had said +‘I have aged....’ I suddenly saw that she was right: in the thinness +of her hands, and of the faded, even though really rejuvenated face, +in the slenderness of certain outlines of the body, I caught certain +signs of that which compels our hearts to contract so painfully, and +even somehow awkwardly,--yet all the more passionately,--at the sight +of an aging woman. ‘Ah, yes, how rapidly and sharply she had changed!’ +I reflected. But she was beautiful, never the less. I was growing +intoxicated as I gazed upon her. I had grown accustomed to dreaming of +her without end; I had not forgotten that moment, when on the evening +of the eleventh of July, I had first embraced her knees. Her hands, +too, were slightly trembling, when she was putting her _coiffure_ in +order, smiling, and gazing at me; and suddenly--you will understand +all the catastrophic force of this moment!--suddenly, this smile was +distorted, somehow; and, with difficulty, but firmly, she uttered: + +“‘Still, you ought to go home, to rest up from the journey; your +appearance is dreadful; you have such suffering, fearful eyes and such +burning lips, that I no longer have the strength to see them.... Do you +wish me to?--I shall go there in your company....’ + +“And, without letting me answer, she got up and went away to get her +hat and cloak.... + +“We arrived quickly at the Villa Hassim. I lingered near the entrance, +in order to pluck some flowers. She did not wait for me, opening the +door herself. I had no servants; there was only the caretaker,--he +did not see us. When I stepped into the ante-room, hot and half dark +because of the closed Venetian blinds, and offered her the flowers, +she kissed them, then embracing me with one hand, she kissed me. From +emotion her lips were hot, but her voice was clear. + +“‘But listen ... how shall we ... have you anything with you?’ she +asked. + +“I did not at first understand her,--so had this first kiss, this first +familiar ‘you’ overwhelmed me,--and I mumbled: + +“‘What do you want to say?’ + +“She took a step back. + +“‘What!’ she said in astonishment, almost sternly. ‘Can you possibly +have thought that I ... that we can live after this? Have you anything +with you that we may die?’ + +“I recovered my wits and hastened to show her a revolver loaded with +five bullets, with which I never parted. + +“She rapidly went on, from room to room. The semi-darkness was +everywhere. Hearing only the rustle of her silken skirts, I followed +after her, with that confusion of all the senses with which a naked man +goes on a sultry day into the sea. Finally we arrived at the end of our +journey; she threw off her cloak and began to untie the ribbons of her +hat. Her hands were still trembling, and once more I remarked through +the dusk something pitiful and tired in her face.... + +“But she died without wavering. During the last moments she became +transformed. Kissing me, and leaning back in order to see my face, she +told me, in a whisper, a few words so tender and touching that I have +not the strength to repeat them. + +“I wanted to go to pluck some more flowers, in order to strew our +funeral couch with them. She did not let me, she was hurried, she was +saying: ‘No, no, it is not necessary ... there are plenty of flowers +... here are your flowers’--and she kept on repeating: + +“‘And so, I charge you, by all that you hold sacred, that you kill me!’ + +“‘Yes, and then myself,’ said I, not for a second doubting my +resolution. + +“‘Oh, I believe you, I believe you!’ she answered, by now as if in a +trance.... + +“A minute before her death she said, very quietly, but simply: ‘My God, +this is a deed without a name!’ + +“And again: + +“‘Where are the flowers you gave me? Kiss me--for the last time.’ + +“She herself put the muzzle of the revolver up to her temple. I wanted +to shoot, but she stopped me: + +“‘No, that isn’t right,--let me show you the right way. Here, so, my +child.... And _afterward_ make the sign of the cross over me, and lay +the flowers upon my breast....’ + +“When I fired, she moved her lips slightly. I fired once more.... + +“She lay there, calm; in her extinguished gaze there was some bitter +beatitude. Her hair was spread out; a tortoise shell comb was thrown +upon the floor. Swaying, I got up, to put an end to myself. But, +despite the Venetian blinds, it was light in the room; and in this +light, and amid this quiet which had suddenly arisen all about me, I +distinctly saw her face, already grown pallid.... And here a sudden +madness possessed me,--I dashed to the window, throwing apart, flinging +open the shutters, and began to shout, and to shoot into the air.... +The rest you know....” + + * * * * * + +In the spring, five years ago, travelling over Algeria, the writer of +these lines visited Constantine. He often recalls now those evenings, +rainy and chill, but spring evenings never the less, which he passed +by the fireplace in the reading room of a certain old and homelike +French hotel. Upon the heavy, elaborate _étagères_ there lay tattered +illustrated journals--in them one could find some faded portraits of +Mme. Marot, at different ages,--among them, one taken in Lausanne, +when she was a girl.... Her story is told here again, through a strong +desire of telling it in my own way. + +_1916._ + + + + +LIGHT BREATHING + + +In the graveyard, over the fresh clayey mound, stands a new cross +of oak,--strong, heavy, smooth,--of the sort that is pleasant to +contemplate. + +It is April, but the days are raw; the monuments of the graveyard--a +spacious, truly provincial one,--can be seen through the bare trees +even from afar, and the chill wind makes the porcelain wreath at the +foot of the cross tinkle again and again. + +As for the cross itself,--a rather large bronze medallion has been set +into it; while in the medallion is a photographic portrait of a well +dressed and alluring high-school girl, with eyes joyous, strikingly +alive. + +This is Olliya Meshcherskaya. + +As a girl she did not in any way stand out among that noisy crowd of +short brown dresses which so discordantly and youthfully hums in the +corridors and class-rooms; what could be said of her save that she was +one of a number of rather pretty, wealthy, and happy girls, that she +was bright, but mischievous and very much unconcerned about whatever +admonitions were made to her by an instructress? Then she began to +blossom out, to develop, not by the day but by the hour. At fourteen, +while her waist was slender and her little feet graceful, she already +had well-defined breasts and all those contours, the enchantment of +which human speech has never yet expressed; at fifteen she was famed +as a beauty. How painstakingly did certain of her mates dress their +hair, how meticulous about their persons they were, how carefully +watchful of their restrained motions! But she feared nothing,--neither +ink spots on her fingers, nor a flushed face, nor disheveled hair, +nor a knee bared in a running fall. Without any cares or efforts +on her part, and somehow imperceptibly, to her came all that which +distinguished her from all the rest of the high-school during her last +two years there,--elegance, good taste in dress, cleverness, a radiant, +yet an understanding sparkle in her eyes. No one danced like Olliya +Meshcherskaya; no one raced on skates as well as she did; no one was +sought after at balls as much as she; and, for some reason, no one was +so liked by the lower grades as she was. Imperceptibly, she became a +young lady, and imperceptibly her fame in school became secure; and +there were already rumours that she was inconstant, that she could +not live without admirers; that Shenshin, a student in the boys’ +high-school, was madly in love with her; that apparently she was also +in love with him, but so changeable in her treatment of him that he had +made attempts at suicide.... + +During her last winter, Olliya Meshcherskaya lost her head entirely +from her pursuit of pleasure,--so they said in the high-school. The +winter was snowy, sunny, frosty; the sun sank early behind the tall fir +grove of the snow-covered school garden, but it was invariably serene, +many-rayed, holding forth a promise of both frost and sunlight for the +morrow as well; to say nothing of strolling through Cathedral Street, +of skating at the rink in the city park on a rose-tinged evening, to +music, and amid this throng gliding in all directions, among which +Olliya Meshcherskaya seemed the best dressed, the freest from care, +the happiest. And then one day, during the main interval, as she was +careering like a whirlwind through the assembly hall escaping from the +little girls of the first grade who were pursuing her and squealing +for joy, she was unexpectedly summoned to the directress. She stopped +in full career; giving a single deep sigh, with a rapid and by now +accustomed movement she put her hair in order, hitched up the little +corners of her apron at the shoulders, and, her eyes radiant, ran +upstairs. The directress, a small woman, young looking but gray haired, +was calmly sitting with some knitting in her hands, at a writing table +underneath a portrait of the Tsar. + +“How do you do, Mlle. Meshcherskaya,” she said in French, without +raising her eyes from the knitting. “It is to be regretted that this is +not the first time I am compelled to summon you here, in order to speak +to you about your conduct.” + +“I am listening, Madame,” answered Meshcherskaya, approaching the +table, looking at her radiantly and in animation, but without any +expression on her face, and she sat down with that lightness and grace +of which only she was mistress. + +“You will listen but badly to me,--I have, it is to be regretted, +become convinced of that,” said the directress, and drawing a thread +and making the ball of wool roll over the polished floor, upon which +Meshcherskaya had cast a glance of curiosity, she raised her eyes: “I +shall not repeat myself; I shall not speak at length,” she said. + +Meshcherskaya liked very much this unusually tidy and large study; +on frosty days its atmosphere was so cozy from the warmth of the +glistening Dutch stove, and the freshness of the lilies-of-the-valley +upon the writing table. She glanced at the young Tsar, drawn at full +length in the midst of some resplendently glittering hall; at the +straight parting of the milky, neatly waved hair of the directress, and +kept an expectant silence. + +“You are no longer a little girl,” said the directress with much +significance, secretly beginning to grow irritated. + +“Yes, Madame,” answered Meshcherskaya simply, almost gaily. + +“But not yet a woman,” said the directress with still greater +significance, and her dull-coloured face began to glow slightly. “First +of all,--what sort of a coiffure is that? That is a woman’s coiffure!” + +“Madame, I am not to blame if I have nice hair,” answered +Meshcherskaya, giving the slightest of pats with both hands to her +attractively dressed head. + +“Ah, so that is it,--you are not to blame!” said the directress. “You +are not to blame for your coiffure, nor to blame for these expensive +combs, nor to blame for ruining your parents with buying little +slippers at twenty roubles![1] But, I repeat to you, you lose sight of +the fact that as yet you are only a high-school girl....” + +[1] A rouble, before the revolution, was equal to about half an +American dollar. _Trans._ + +And at this point, Meshcherskaya, without losing her simplicity and +calmness, suddenly interrupted her with politeness: + +“Pardon me, Madame, you are making a mistake: I am a woman. And--do you +know who is responsible for this? Papa’s friend and neighbour, and also +your brother, Alexei Mikhailovich Maliutin. This happened last summer +in the country....” + + * * * * * + +And a month after this conversation an officer of the Cossacks, homely +and of plebeian appearance, having absolutely nothing in common with +that circle to which Meshcherskaya belonged, shot her on the platform +of a railroad station, among a large crowd which had just arrived with +the train. And the incredible confession of Olliya Meshcherskaya, which +had dumbfounded the directress, was fully confirmed; the officer had +declared to the examining magistrate that Meshcherskaya had enticed +him, had had a _liaison_ with him, had sworn to be his wife; but at +the depot, on the day of the murder, when she was seeing him off to +Novocherkassk, she had suddenly told him that she had never even as +much as thought of loving him, that their talks about marriage were all +merely a mockery of him, and she let him read that page in her diary +which dealt with Maliutin. + +“I ran over these lines, went out on the platform where she was +promenading, waiting till I should finish reading, and shot her,” said +the officer. “The diary remained in the pocket of my uniform coat; just +glance at what was written on it on the tenth of July of last year.” + +And the examining magistrate read something approximately as follows: + +“It is now two o’clock at night. I had fallen fast asleep, but had +immediately awakened.... This day I have become a woman! Papa, mamma, +and Tolliya had all gone to the city, and I was left alone. I cannot +express how happy I was over being alone! In the morning I strolled by +myself in the garden, in the fields; I was in the forest,--it seemed +to me that I was all alone in the entire universe, and my thoughts +were more pleasant than they have ever before been in my life. I even +dined alone, then I played for a whole hour; to the sounds of the music +I felt as if I would live without end and would be as happy as never +before! Then I fell asleep in papa’s study. And at four Katiya woke me +up, saying that Alexei Mikhailovich had arrived. I was very glad he +had come; it was so pleasant for me to receive and entertain him. He +had driven up on his pair of very handsome horses, of a special small +breed, and they stood all the time near the steps; but he remained, +because it had been raining, and he wanted the ground to be dry toward +evening. He was very sorry that he had not caught father in, was +very animated, and bore himself like a gallant toward me; he joked a +lot about having been in love with me for a long time. When we were +strolling before tea in the garden, the weather was splendid again, the +sun glistened through the entire wet garden, although it had become +really downright chilly, and he walked about with my arm through his, +and said that he was Faust with Marguerite. He is fifty-six, but he is +still very handsome, and always very well dressed,--the only thing I +did not like was that he had come in a kind of cape; he is all scented +with English eau-de-cologne, and his eyes are altogether young,--and +black; and his beard is attractively divided in two long parts and is +perfectly silvery. At tea we sat in the glass enclosed veranda; I felt +somehow unwell and laid down upon a low couch, while he smoked; then he +changed his seat to where I was, and again began telling me some nice +things; then to examine and kiss my hand. I covered my face with a +silk handkerchief, and he kissed me several times on the lips through +the handkerchief.... I cannot understand how it could have, happened; I +lost my mind, I never thought that I was that kind! Now there is only +one way out for me.... I feel such loathing for him, that I cannot live +through this!...” + +The town during these April days has become clean, dry, its stones +have grown white, and it is easy and pleasant to walk over them. Every +Sunday, after mass, a little woman in mourning, in black kid gloves, +with an ebony umbrella, starts out walking through Cathedral Street, +which leads to the city gates. She passes by the engine house, crosses, +by means of a paved road, the dirty square where there are many sooty +smithies, and the air from the fields is blowing fresher; farther on, +between the monastery and the jail, the cloudy horizon shows white, and +the spring fields gray; and then, when one has treaded his way among +the puddles under the wall of the monastery and turns to the left, +one sees something like a large, low garden, surrounded by a white +enclosure, above the gates of which enclosure is painted the Assumption +of the Mother of God. The little woman rapidly makes a sign of the +cross several times, and like one who knows the way walks through the +main path. Having reached the bench opposite the cross of oak, she sits +in the wind and the spring chillness, for an hour, for two hours, until +her feet in their light shoes and her hands in their tight kid gloves +grow entirely benumbed. Listening to the birds of spring, sweetly +singing even in the cold, listening to the tinkling of the wind through +the porcelain wreath, she thinks at times that she would give half +her life, if only that dead wreath might not be before her eyes. The +thought that it was Olliya Meshcherskaya whom they had buried here, in +this very clay, throws her into astonishment verging on stupefaction: +how can one associate that sixteen year old school girl, who only some +two or three months ago was so full of life, enchantment, gaiety, +with this clayey hummock, and this oaken cross? Can it be possible +that underneath it is the same girl whose eyes shine so deathlessly +out of this bronze medallion, and how reconcile with this pure gaze +that dreadful thing which is connected now with the name of Olliya +Meshcherskaya? But deep in her soul the little woman is happy, as all +people in love, or devoted to some passionate idea in general, always +are. + +This woman is a teacher of Olliya Meshcherskaya, a girl of over thirty, +who has long lived upon some fiction or other that supplants her actual +life. At first her brother, a poor ensign and in no way remarkable, +was such a fiction,--all her soul was bound up with him, with his +future, which for some reason appeared to her brilliant, and she lived +in a strange expectancy, that her fate would somehow change magically, +thanks to him. Later, when he was killed at Mukden, she assured +herself, that she, to her great good fortune, it would seem, was not +like others; that the lack of beauty and femininity were in her case +compensated for by brains and higher interests; that she was a toiler +in the world of ideas. The death of Olliya Meshcherskaya captivated +her with a new dream. Now Olliya Meshcherskaya is an object of her +ceaseless thoughts, of rapture, of joy. She goes to Olliya’s grave on +every holiday,--she had formed the habit of going to the graveyard and +of wearing mourning since the death of her brother. For hours she does +not take her eyes off the oaken cross; she recalls the pale little face +of Olliya Meshcherskaya in her coffin, among the flowers--and also that +which she had once happened to overhear: once, during the main recess, +strolling through the school garden, Olliya Meshcherskaya was saying, +all in one breath, to her favourite mate,--the stout, tall Subottina: + +“In one of papa’s books,--he has a lot of old-fashioned funny books,--I +read what sort of beauty a woman ought to have ... you understand, +there is so much said there that one can’t remember everything: well, +of course, black eyes, like boiling pitch,--honest to God, it is +written just so!--like boiling pitch,--eye-lashes as black as night; +a softly mantling blush, a slender waist, a hand longer than the +ordinary,--you understand, longer than the ordinary!--a little foot, a +moderately large bosom, a regularly rounded calf, a knee the colour of +a sea-shell, sloping--but high--shoulders.... I learned most of this +by heart, that’s how true all this is! But do you know what the chief +thing is?--Light breathing!... But then, I have it,--you just listen +how I sigh,--really, haven’t I got it?” + +Now this light breathing has been scattered anew upon the universe, +upon this cloud-covered sky, upon this chill spring wind.... + +_1916._ + + + + +AN EVENING IN SPRING + + +On St. Thomas’ week, on a clear evening barely tinged with rose, at +that enchanting time when the earth has just been freed from the snow, +when, in the little hollows upon the steppes, underneath the young bare +oaks, some gray, hardened snow still lingers, an old beggar was going +from house to house in a certain village in the Eletz province,--of +course, he had no hat, and there was a long linen wallet slung over his +shoulder. + +This village was a large one, but quiet, lying far out among the +fields. And besides, it happened to be a quiet evening. There was +nobody near the flooded, clayey pond, that one could not see the +limits of; nor upon the level common where, in the shade of the huts +and hayricks, this old man was walking. His head was bald, yet still +black-haired; he held a long walnut staff in his hand, and looked like +a primitive bishop. The common was of a clear, vivid green; the air was +freshening; the pond, concavely-full, its tone that of a flashing flesh +colour, was slightly crimson, and there was a certain beauty about +it, despite a bottle-green block of ice, covered with rusty manure, +that still floated about in it. Somewheres on the other side, warmly +and caressingly lit up against the low-lying sun,--somewhere far-off, +it seemed,--a child, strayed behind some corn-kiln or storehouse, was +crying, and its plaintive, monotonous wailing was not unpleasant to the +ear in the evening glow.... But the folk thereabouts were none too +generous of alms. + +There, at the entrance to the village, near an old, well-to-do farm, +where age-old oaks covered with the nests of rooks stood beyond the +three-roomed _izba_ of dark-red brick, a young gray-eyed married woman +had given something, but even that had been a trifle. She had been +standing near the stone threshold amid the drying spring mire upon a +hard-beaten path, holding a pretty little girl, whose little eyes did +not show any glimmer of intelligence, perched in her arms; the child +had on a little patchwork cap, and, pressing her close against her, +the woman was dancing, stamping her bare feet, and, as she turned, her +cotton skirt would swell out. + +“There’s an old man; I’ll give you to him to put in his little wallet,” +she was saying through her teeth, her lips feasting on the little +girl’s cheeks: + + “I’m a-goin’ to dance + So’s the floor will creak....” + +And, turning, completely around, she changed her voice to a ringing, +coquettish tone, evidently imitative of some one: + +“Old man, old man,--don’t you need a little girl?” + +The girl was not a bit frightened; she was calmly sucking a round +cracknel, and the mother began coaxing the little girl, in all sorts of +ways, to give it to the smiling beggar who had come up: + +“Give it to him, my little babe, give it to him; for you and I are all, +all alone on this whole farm; so we have nothing to give alms with....” + +And the little girl stolidly stretched out her short little arm, +with the saliva-moistened cookie clenched in her little fist. And the +beggar, smilingly shaking his head at other folks’ happiness, took it +and munched it as he went on his way. + +He held his stick lightly, in readiness, as he went; now it would be +a wicked, snarling watch-dog that would roll up in a ball underneath +your feet,--and having rolled right up to you, would suddenly become +quiet; or else a yellow, downy hound would ferociously tear the ground +and throw it up with his hind feet, standing near a hay rick and +growling, growling and gasping, with fiery eyes.... Upon approaching +the little window of a hut, the beggar would make a humble bow and +would tap lightly against the frame with his staff. But often no one +would respond to this tap; many were still finishing up their sowing, +finishing up their plowing, many were out in the fields. And his +soul, the soul of a peasant from of old, even rejoiced in secret: the +folks are out in the field ... this is the time that feeds the whole +year ... no time for beggars.... And at times, on the other side of +the panes upon which the beggar tapped, a fair-faced peasant woman +carrying a child at breast in her arms, would lean over as she sat on +a bench. Through the sorry little window, she appeared very big. Not +at all abashed because the beggar could see her soft breast, as white +as wheat-flour, she would wave him away with her large hand, covered +with silver rings, while the infant, without letting the sweet nipple +out of its mouth, lay back and looked up at her with its dark, clear +eyes, scratching hard its bare little outspread legs, all dotted with +pink from flea-bites. “God will give you alms,--don’t be angry with +us,” the peasant woman would say calmly. As for the old women, each +one of them would wrinkle up her face painfully, inevitably leaning out +and complaining for a long time, constantly re-iterating that she’d +be glad as glad could be to give alms, but there wasn’t anything ... +everybody was out in the fields ... and to give without asking she was +afraid,--she, being an old woman, had had her head bitten off long +ago, as it was.... The beggar would agree with her, would say, “Well, +forgive me, for the love of God,” and would go on farther. + +He had done thirty versts[2] that day, and was not a bit fatigued; +only his legs had grown benumbed, dulled, and had begun to wobble. His +long bag was half-filled with crusts and some odds and ends; while +under the patched long coat, narrow belted and long skirted, under the +sheepskin jacket and the much worn blouse, under the shirt next his +skin, there had long been hanging upon his crucifix an amulet wherein +were sewn ninety-two roubles in bills. And his soul was at rest. Of +course, he was old, thin, all weather-beaten,--his mouth contracted, +parched, until it was all black; his nose was like a bone; his neck +all in wrinkles resembling cracks, criss-crossing one another, as +though his neck were made of cork. But he was still spry. His eyes, +which once upon a time had been black, were now rheumy and dimmed by +thin cataracts; but still they could see not only the full-flooded +pond, but, as well, the roseate tint upon its farther side, and even +the clear, pale sky. The air was getting fresher; more loudly, but +seemingly from a still greater distance, came the receding cry of the +child; there was a scent of the chilling grass in the air.... Two +pigeons soared together over the roofs, fell to the clayey little bank +of the pond, and, raising their little heads, began to drink.... Just +a little before, in a lonely farm near the great road, some women had +grown generous and had given him a big piece of calico and a pair of +good trousers,--oh, good as new, you might say; a young fellow that +belonged to their farm had made them for himself, but he had been +crushed in a pit, in the quarry where the _moujiks_ had been digging +for clay. Now the beggar was walking along and deliberating: should he +dispose of them, or put them on himself, and throw away those he had +on--which, by now, were really none too presentable,--near the edge of +some field? + +[2] A verst is about two-thirds of a mile. _Trans._ + +Having come to the end of the village, he entered a short little lane +that led out into the steppe. And into his eyes glanced the many-rayed, +fair-weather sun of April, sinking far beyond the plain, beyond the +gray fallow-lands and the newly tilled fields of spring-corn. At the +very end of the village, at a turn of the well-beaten, glistening +road, leading to that distant, humble hamlet where the beggar was +thinking of passing the night, stood a new hut, not large, well-roofed +with new thatch, which was lemon-coloured and resembled a well-combed +head. Keeping aloof from everybody, a man and his wife had settled +here a year ago,--there were shavings and chips still knocking about +here and there. They were a thrifty, hard-working, agreeable couple, +and sold vodka on the sly. And so the beggar went straight toward +this hut,--there was a possibility of selling the new trousers to its +owner,--and besides, he liked just to enter it; he liked it because +it seemed to be living some especial life, all its own, quiet and +steadfast, standing at the end leading out of the village and gazing +with its clear little windows upon the setting of the sun, while the +sky-larks were finishing their song in the chilling air. Near the blind +wall that gave out upon the by-lane lay a shadow, but its front wall +was gay. Last fall its owner had planted three acacia bushes beneath +the little windows. Now they had taken root and were already downy with +a yellowish verdure tender as that of a willow. Having skirted them, +the beggar walked in through the entry into the main room. + +At first, after the sunlight, he could not see anything, although the +sun was looking in here as well, lighting up the blue transparent smoke +floating over the table, that stood underneath a hanging tin lamp. To +gain time while his eyes grew accustomed, he bowed and crossed himself +for a long time in the direction of the new tinselled icon hanging in a +corner. Then he laid down his bag and his staff on the floor near the +door, and made out a large-bodied _moujik_ in bast shoes and a tattered +short sheepskin coat, sitting with his back to the door, on a stool +near the table; the well-dressed mistress he saw sitting on a bench. + +“The Lord’s blessing be with you,” said he, in a low voice, bowing once +more. “Greetings of the holiday just past.” + +He wanted to sing the paschal _Christ Is Risen_, but felt that it would +be out of place, and reflected: + +“Well, I guess the master is not at home.... What a pity.” + +The mistress was not at all bad-looking, with a very shapely waist, +with white hands,--just as though she were no mere peasant woman. She +was in a gala-dress, as always; in a pearl necklace, in a blouse of +coarse calico, with thin puffed-out sleeves, with an apron broidered in +red and blue, in a skirt of indigo wool with terra-cotta checks, and in +half-boots, rough but well-sown and made to fit the foot, their heels +shod with steel. With her neat head and clear face bent down, she was +embroidering a blouse for her husband. When the beggar had greeted her, +she raised her steady but unglittering eyes, threw an intent glance +upon him, and nodded amiably. Then, with a light sigh, she laid her +work aside, deftly stuck her needle in it, went toward the oven, her +half-boots clacking over the wooden floor and her flanks swaying, and +took a small bottle of vodka and a thick cup with blue stripes out of a +little cupboard. + +“I have gotten tired, though ...” said the beggar, as if he were +talking to himself,--both in apology for the vodka and because he was +confused by the silence of the _moujik_, who had not turned around +toward him. + +Stepping softly in his bast-shoes, humbly walking around him, the +beggar sat down upon another stool, at an opposite corner of the table. +As for the mistress, she put the cup and the small bottle before him, +and went back to her work. Then this stalwart, tattered son of the +steppes raised his head heavily,--there was a whole greenish demijohn +standing before him,--and, narrowing his eyes, he fixed his gaze upon +his humble bottle-companion. He may have been pretending just a trifle; +but still, his face was inflamed; his eyes were drunken, filled with +the dull glitter of tipsiness; the lips, grown soft and flabby, were +half-open, as in a fever,--evidently, this was not the first day of +his spree. And the beggar grew a little more wary, and carefully +began filling his cup. “After all, now, he’ll drink his and I’ll +drink mine.... This is a tavern, and we don’t bother one another,” +he was thinking. He raised his head, and his mistily-black eyes, the +colour of ripe sloe-thorn, as well as his whole visage, made rough and +weather-beaten by the steppe, were void of all expression. + +“Where was you tramping?” asked the _moujik_, roughly and crazily. +“Have you come to steal, seeing as how all the folks are out in the +fields?” + +“Why should I be stealing?” the beggar replied, evenly and meekly. +“I’ve had six children of my own, and my own house and goods....” + +“You’re blind and you’re blind, but, never fear, many’s the feather and +the twig you’ve carried to your nest!” + +“Why should you be saying that? I’ve worked hard as could be for ten +years in the quartz mines....” + +“That ain’t work. That’s....” + +“Don’t you be saying anything out of the way,” said the mistress, +without elevating her voice, without raising her lashes, and bit off +the thread. “I don’t listen to anything unseemly. I ain’t heard it from +my husband yet.” + +“Well, that will do; I won’t do it any more ... lady!” said the +_moujik_. “’Scuse me ... I’m after asking you,” said he to the beggar, +frowningly, “what can you get out of the ground, now, when it ain’t +been ploughed nor sown?” + +“Well, now, of course.... Whoever has the land, for example....” + +“Wait,--I’m smarter than you be!” said the _moujik_ slapping the table +with his palm. “Answer what you’re asked; did you serve for a soldier?” + +“I was a non-commissioned officer of the Tenth Grenadiers Regiment of +Little Russia, under Count Rumiyant-zev-Zadunaisky.... What else should +I be doing but serving for a soldier?” + +“Keep still, don’t gabble more’n you’re asked! What year was you took?” + +“In ’seventy six, in the month of November.” + +“Wasn’t you ever at fault?” + +“Never.” + +“Did you obey the officers?” + +“There was no way of my doing otherwise. I had taken an oath.” + +“But what’s that scar doing on your neck? Do you understand what +I’m driving at now? I am testing him,” said the _moujik_, with his +eye-brows working surlily, but changing his commanding voice for a more +simple one, and turning toward the mistress his crazed face, aureately +illumined through the tobacco smoke by the sunset; “I may be poor, all +right, but I’ve caught more than one fellow like that! I know enough to +come in out of the rain!” + +And again he put on a frown, looking at the beggar: + +“Did you bow down before the Holy Cross and the Gospel?” + +“That I have,” answered the beggar, who had managed to take a drink, to +wipe his mouth with his sleeve, to sit up straight again, and to impart +to his face and his misty eyes a dispassionate expression. + +The _moujik_ surveyed him with glazed eyes. + +“Stand up before me!” + +“Don’t raise any fuss. Am I talking to you, or am I not?” the mistress +quietly intervened. + +“Wait, for the love of God,” the _moujik_ waved her away in vexation. +“Stand up before me!” + +“Honest to God, what are you up to....” the beggar began to mumble. + +“Stand up, I’m telling you!” yelled the _moujik_. “I’m a-going to +examine you.” + +The beggar stood up and shifted from foot to foot. + +“Hands at the sides! So. Got a passport?” + +“But are you an inspector, or something?” + +“Keep still,--don’t you dare to jaw back at me like that! I’m smarter +than you be! I went all through this myself. Show it to me this minute!” + +Hastily unhooking his long overcoat, then his sheepskin jacket, the +beggar submissively rummaged within the bosom of his shirt for a long +time. Finally he pulled out a paper wrapped up in a red handkerchief. + +“Give it here,” said the _moujik_ abruptly. + +And, unwrapping the little handkerchief, the beggar handed him a small +frayed gray book, with a large wax seal. The _moujik_ awkwardly opened +it with his gnarled fingers and pretended to read it, putting it at +a distance from him, leaning back, and looking at it for a long time +through the tobacco smoke and the red light of the evening glow. + +“So. I see now. Everything ship-shape. Take it back,” he said, his +parched lips moving with difficulty. “I am poor as poor can be; it’s +the second spring, you might say, that I’m neither ploughing nor +sowing; folks have done for me.... I fell down at his feet, the dog +that he is.... And yet I’m beyond a price, you might say.... But you +just tell me all that you’ve stolen, or else I’ll kill you right off!” +he yelled ferociously. “I know everything; I’ve gone through all sorts +of things.... I’ve been boiled in pitch, you might say,--that’s how +I’ve suffered.... It is the Lord that gives us life, but any vermin can +take it away.... Give the bag here, and that’s all there is to it!” + +The mistress merely shook her head, and leaned back from her +embroidery, contemplating it. The beggar went toward the door and +gave the _moujik_ the bag, just as he had given him the passport. The +_moujik_ took it, and, as he laid it near him on the stool, he said: + +“That’s right. Now sit down,--let’s chat a bit. I’ll get to the bottom +of all this here. I’ll make an inspection of my own, don’t you fret!” + +And he became silent, staring at the table. + +“Spring...” he muttered. “Ah, but what a sorrowful sabbath-day it is, +that a man may not work in the fields.... Go on!” he cried out to some +imagined person, trying to snap his fingers: + + “Oh, the lady starts to dance, + And her fingers is all blue....” + +And he relapsed into silence. The mistress was smoothing down the +embroidery with her thimble. + +“I’m going out to milk the cow,” said she, getting up from her seat. +“Don’t blow up the fire whilst I am out, or else you’ll burn us out in +your drunkenness.” + +The _moujik_ came to with a start. + +“Lordy!” he exclaimed, in hurt tones. “Little mistress! How can youse +say that.... You’ve grown aweary for your husband, never fear?” + +“That’s none of your worry,” said the mistress. “He’s in town, on +business.... He don’t go traipsing around no inns.” + +“You’d go traipsing, too!” said the _moujik_. “Well, what would you +have me do, now,--go out on the wayside, or what? You rich devils are +all right....” + +The mistress, picking up a milk-pail, went out. It was growing dark in +the hut; everything was quiet, and the roseate light was suffused in +the soft, spring obscurity. The _moujik_, with his elbows on the table, +was dozing, as he pulled at an extinguished, crudely made cigarette. +The beggar was sitting peacefully, with never a sound, leaning against +the dark partition, and his face was almost invisible. + +“Do you drink beer?” asked the _moujik_. + +“I do,” came the low answer out of the dusk. + +The _moujik_ was silent for a while. + +“We are vagabones, you and me” said he, morosely and meditatively. +“Poor wayside rubbish.... Beggarmen.... I feel weary in your company!” + +“That’s right....” + +“But as for beer,--I like it,” said the _moujik_ loudly, after another +silence. “She don’t keep it, the carrion! Otherwise I would have drunk +some beer ... and would have had a snack of something.... My tongue’s +all soaked,--I want to eat.... I would have had a snack and drunk +something.... Yes.... But she, the mistress, ain’t got such a bad face! +If I was harnessed up with one like her, I would.... All right, never +mind, sit down, sit down ... I got respect for the blind. Whenever a +grand holiday used to come around, I would take twenty of these here +blind men, now, and seat them at table,--you would have had to look and +look to find another household like ours! And they would sing a stave +for me, and make me a bow to boot.... Do you know how to sing staves? +About Alexei, the Man of God? I do take to that stave. Pick up your +cup,--I’ll treat you to some of mine.” + +Having taken the cup from the beggar’s hands, he held it up to the +faint light of the evening glow and half-filled it. The beggar got up, +made a low bow, drained the cup to the bottom, and again sat down. The +_moujik_ dragged the beggar’s bag upon his knees, and, untying it, +began to mutter: + +“I sized you up at once ... I’ve got enough money of my own, brother; +you’re no mate for me.... I go through my money in cold blood ... I +drink it away ... I drink away a horse a year, and send a good ram up +in smoke.... Aha! So you’ve run up against a bit of a _moujik_,--do you +understand who I am? But still, I feel sorry for you. I understand! +There’s thousands of the likes of you roaming about in springtime.... +There’s mire, and sloughs, and never a path or a road,--but you’ve +got to keep on going, bowing before everybody.... And you can’t never +tell whether they’ll give you anything or no.... Eh, brother! Don’t I +understand you?” asked the _moujik_ with bitter sorrow, and his eyes +filled with tears. + +“No, this time of the year is not so bad, it’s all right,” said the +beggar quietly. “You walk along a field, over a big, abandoned tract +that had once been planned for a road.... All alone, with never +another soul nigh.... Then, too, there’s the dear sun, and the warm +weather.... True, there’s many a thousand of the likes of me roaming +about. Half of Russia is roaming so.” + +“I’ve drunk away two horses,” said the _moujik_, raking the crusts out +of the bag, pulling out a waist-coat, the calico, the trousers, and a +bast shoe. “I’m goin’ to go all through all your miserable pickings, +and old rags.... Hold on! Pants! I must buy them from you, soon as I +come into a little money.... How much?” + +The beggar thought for a while. + +“Why, I’d let it go for two....” + +“I’ll give you three!” said the _moujik_, getting up, placing the +trousers under him, and sitting down upon them. “They’re mine! But +where’s the other shoe? It will pass for new,--that means you must have +stolen it, for sure. But then, it’s better to be thieving, than to be +grieving your heart out in the springtime, the way I am a-doing now; to +be perishing from hunger, to be coming to the end of your rope,--when +you take the very least of the shepherds, and you’ll find him at +work.... I have drunk a horse away,--but a beastie like that is worth +more nor any man.... But am I no ploughman, no reaper? ... And now you +sing a stave, or I’ll kill you right off!” he cried out. “I feel weary +in your company!” + +In a quavering, modest, but a practiced voice the beggar began to sing +out of the obscurity: + + “Once upon a time there lived and were two brethren-- + Two blood-brethren, two brethren in God and Christ....” + +“Eh, two brethren in God and Christ!” the _moujik_ chimed in, in a +high-pitched and piteous tone, straining his voice. + +The beggar, with even churchly chanting, continued: + + “One dwelt in cold and poverty, + Rotting in his leprosy....” + +“And the o-other was rich!” out of tune, drowning out the beggar, with +tears in his voice, the _moujik_ caught up the song. “Put more heart +in it!” he cried out, as his voice broke. “Grief has swallowed me up; +all men are having a holiday, all men are sowing,--but here I be, +biting the earth; it’s the second spring that my mother earth has been +barren.... Let me have your cup, or I’ll kill you right off! Open the +window for me!” + +And again the beggar submissively gave him his cup. Then he started +to open the window. Being new, it had swollen and would not yield for +a long while. Finally it did yield, and flew open. A fresh, pleasant +odour of the fields floated in. It was completely dark out there now, +the roseate night glow had become extinguished, barely shimmering over +the soft darkness of the quiet, joyous, fecundated field. One could +hear the half-drowsy sky-larks finishing their very last songs. + +“Sing, Lazarus,--sing, my own brother!” said the _moujik_, extending a +full cup to the beggar. “We’re two of a kind, you and me.... Only what +are you alongside of me? A vagabone! Whereas I am a working man, that +gives food and drink to all those that suffer....” + +He sat down suddenly, losing his balance, and again dug into the bag. + +“And what might you have here?” he asked, examining the calico, which +had turned the faintest pink in the barely perceptible light of the +evening glow. + +“Oh, that’s just so.... Some women gave it to me,” said the beggar +quietly, feeling everything floating before him from tipsiness, and +that it was time to be going, and that it was necessary to extricate +the trousers from underneath the _moujik_ somehow. + +“How can that be! You lie!” cried out the _moujik_, banging the table +with his fist. “It’s a shroud,--I can see! It’s a grave-shroud!” +he cried out with tears in his voice, and was silent for a while, +hearkening to the abating songs of the sky-larks. Then he shoved the +bag away from him, and, shaking his tousled head, began to cry: “I have +risen in my pride against God!” said he bitterly, weeping. + +And then, straining himself, he began to sing loudly, keeping good time: + + “Oh my mother gave me birth and she guarded me, + Though I now a sinner be, unforgivable! + All the torments have I borne, + All the sorrows have I borne,-- + Nowheres found I joy for me. + Oh, my mother spoke to me + And she cautioned me; + If she only knew, if she only saw, + She could never bear + Such calamity....” + +“Oh, my soul is a sinner and a creeping thing!” he cried out wildly, +weeping, and suddenly started clapping his palms with an elderitch +laughter: “Beggar-man, give me your money! I know you through and +through; I feel you through and through,--give it to me! I know you +have it! It can’t be otherwise,--give it to me for love of the Lord God +Himself!” + +And, swaying, he arose, and the beggar, who had also arisen, felt his +legs giving away from fear, felt a dull ache start in his thighs. The +tear-stained face of the _moujik_, barely discernible in the twilight, +was insane. + +“Give it to me!” he repeated, in a voice suddenly grown hoarse. “Give +it to me, for the Love of the Queen of Heaven! I can see, I can +see,--you’re grabbing at your bosom, at your undershirt; that means +you’ve got it,--all your kind has! Give it to me,--it ain’t of no use +to you, anyway, whereas it will set me on my feet forever! Give it to +me of your own will,--brother, don’t lead me into sin!” + +“Can’t do it,” said the beggar, quietly and dispassionately. + +“What?” + +“Can’t do it. I’ve been saving for twenty years. Can’t bring myself to +do it.” + +“You ain’t goin’ to give it to me?” asked the _moujik_ hoarsely. + +“No ...” said the beggar, barely audible but unshaken. + +The _moujik_ was silent for a long while. The beating of their hearts +could be heard in the darkness. + +“Very well,” said the _moujik_, with an insane submissiveness. “I will +kill you; I’ll go and find me a stone and then kill you.” + +And, swaying, he went toward the threshold. + +The beggar, standing erect in the darkness, made a sweeping and slow +sign of the cross. As for the _moujik_, he, with his head lowered like +a bull, was already walking about under the windows. + +Then there came a crunching sound,--evidently he was pulling a stone +out of the foundation. + +And a minute later the door slammed again,--and the beggar drew himself +up still more. + +“For the last time I’m a-telling you ...” the _moujik_ mumbled out +with his cracked lips, walking up to him with a big white stone in his +hands. “Brother....” + +The beggar was silent. His fate could not be seen. Swinging back with +his left arm and catching the beggar by his neck, the _moujik_ struck +hard his shrinking face with the chill stone. The beggar tore away, +backward, and, as he fell, catching the table with his bast-shoe, he +struck the back of his head against a stool, and then against the +floor. And falling upon him, the _moujik_, squeezing the breath out of +his chest, frenziedly began to batter in his throat with the stone. + +Ten minutes later he was already far out in the dark, even field. There +were many stars out; the air was fresh; the earth gave forth a metallic +odour. Completely sobered up, he was walking so rapidly and lightly +that he seemed capable of covering a hundred versts more. The amulet, +torn off the beggar’s crucifix, he was holding tightly clenched in his +hand. Later, he flung it from him into a dark, freshly ploughed field. +His eyes were staring fixedly like an owl’s; his teeth were tightly +clenched, like a lobster’s claws. Although he had looked for his cap +for a long while, he had been unable to find it in the darkness; the +chillness beat upon his bared head. His head seemed to him to be of +stone. + +_1914._ + + + + +THE SACRIFICE + + +Simon Novicov, who was living in Oats Ford with his brother +Nicon,--Nicon of the withered arm,--was burned out in midsummer, about +the fast of St. Peter. The brothers decided to divide their property, +and Simon, intending to leave the Ford, was putting up a hut for +himself near the great highway. + +On the evening before Elijah’s Day the carpenters had asked for leave +to go home. After supping with the large family of his brother, in the +midst of flies and the clamour of children, he lit his pipe, put on his +short sheepskin coat, and said to his folks: + +“It’s stuffy in here. I’m going to the building,--I’ll sleep the night +there. I’m afraid the tools might be stole.” + +“You ought to take the dogs with you, at least,” one of the women +counselled him. + +“Get along with ye!” said Simon, and went out. + +There was a full moon out that night. What with his thoughts of his +future household, Simon did not even notice how he had climbed up hill +by the broad path to the pasture lands that led out of the village, +and, after putting about a verst behind him on the big road, had come +right up to his hut, which had a ceiling but was, as yet, unroofed. +It stood at the edge of the fields of grain, in the midst of an empty +field. Its sashless windows gaped blackly, and it was dully glistening +against the light of the moon with the ends of its new corner-beams, +with the tow sticking out of its joints, and the sticks and shavings +about its threshold. The aureate July moon, which had risen far +beyond the ravines of the Ford, hung low and was turbid. Its warm +glow was diffused over everything. The ripe grain glimmered whitely +ahead,--dully, sombrely, like stretches of sand. But toward the north +the sky was altogether overcast,--a cloud was gathering there. A soft +breeze, blowing from all sides, would at times gather strength and +run fitfully over the rye and oats,--and they would rustle crisply, +disquietingly. The cloud toward the north appeared immovable, but it +was frequently shot with an eerie, fleeting, golden sheen. + +Simon, stooping at the threshold through habit, entered the hut. It +was dark and stuffy within it. The yellow moonlight, looking in at the +unglazed windows, did not blend with the darkness, but only intensified +it. Simon threw down his short sheepskin coat upon the shavings in the +middle of the hut, directly in the path of one of the rows of light, +and lay down on his back. After drawing at his extinguished pipe for a +space, he put it in his pocket, and, after thinking for a little while +longer, fell asleep. + +But now the wind began blowing in at the windows, and, by way of the +entry, through the door. The thunder began muttering dully in the +distance. Simon sat up. The wind increased--it was now running over the +feverishly murmuring grain without cease, and the light of the moon +had become still dimmer. Simon walked out of the hut, and, turning the +corner, was among the crisp and sultry swishing of the oats, which +were as pallid as a shroud. He glanced at the cloud,--the colour of +dark slate, it had taken up half the heavens. The wind was blowing +straight in his face, tugging at his hair and tangling it, interfering +with his vision. The flashes of lightning, too, interfered with his +vision and blinded it, as they flared up, more and more ominous and +fiery. Simon, making the sign of the cross, got down on his knees: in +the distance, in the midst of the sea of oats, standing out against +the bank of the cloud, a small throng was advancing toward him. Their +heads were bared; in white girdles, in new short sheepskin coats, they +were with difficulty bearing a seven-foot altar-piece, painted by some +ancient master. The throng was mistily-spectral, but the image was very +plain,--an awesome, severe countenance, showing red upon a black panel, +which was burnt by candles, dripped over by wax, and bound at the edges +by old, blue-coloured silver. + +The wind had parted the hair upon Simon’s brow, pleasantly blowing it +back, and Simon, in fear and joy, bowed down to the ground before the +image. When he finally did raise his head, he saw that the crowd had +halted, awkwardly supporting the image, which was majestically leaning +backward; while upon the cloud was limned, as in a church picture, a +towering, enormous visage: the mighty, hoary-bearded Elijah himself, +clad in chitons of fire, and sitting, like God-Sabbaoth, upon the +lifelessly-blueish tiers of the lower clouds, while two greenish-orange +rainbows were flaming above him, against the slate-coloured background. +And, flashing his lightning-like orbs, blending his voice with the +distant rumble of the thunder, Elijah spake to Simon: + +“Stand up straight, Simon Novicov. Hearken, ye princes and peasants! +I am about to judge him, Simon Novicov,--a peasant tenant of the Eletz +province, of the Predtechev District, of the little village of Oats +Ford.” + +And the entire field, glimmering as white as sand all around, with all +its ears of grain together with the tares darted forward, bowing down +before Elijah, and amidst their murmur Elijah began to speak: + +“I was wroth with thee, Simon Novicov,--I wanted to punish thee.” + +“Wherefore, Father?” questioned Simon. + +“It is no fitting thing for thee, Simon Novicov, to be questioning me, +Elijah. Thou art the one to make answer.” + +“Well, forgive me; let it be as thou dost will,” said Simon. + +“Summer before last I did kill Pantelei, thy eldest son, with a stroke +of lightning; wherefore didst thou bury him in the ground up to his +waist, bringing him back to life through black magic?” + +“Forgive me, Father,” said Simon, bowing, “I felt sorry for the young +lad. Judge for thyself,--why, he would be the one to give me food and +drink in my old age.” + +“Last summer I did mow, I did trample down thy rye with hail and with +whirl-winds: why didst thou get knowledge of it beforehand, and sell +this rye while it yet stood uncut?” + +“Forgive me, Father,” said Simon, bowing. “My heart felt a forewarning; +need did force me to it.” + +“Well, was it not I that burned thee out but just now, at St. Peter’s +fast? Wherefore dost thou hasten to build anew, to divide thy goods +with thy brother?” + +“Forgive me, Father,” said Simon, bowing. “My brother of the withered +hand is unlucky; I thought all the misfortunes were coming from him.” + +“Shut thy eyes. We shall ponder, we shall take counsel, as to thy +punishment.” + +Simon shut his eyes; he bowed down his head. The wind was noisy,--under +cover of its noise he was trying to eavesdrop, on the sly, what Elijah +and the peasants were whispering together about. But there came a heavy +peal of thunder near at hand,--not a thing could he hear. + +“No, we can’t think of anything,” said Elijah with all his voice. “Thou +thyself must counsel me.” + +“And may I open my eyes?” asked Simon. + +“There is no need of that. A blind man thinks all the surer.” + +“Thou art a queer fellow, Father,” Simon smiled thoughtfully. “Well, +what is there to think about? I shall place a three-rouble candle +before thee....” + +“Thou hast not the wherewithal. Thou hast spent everything on building.” + +“Well, in that case I shall go on a pilgrimage to Kiev, or to +Belgorod,” said Simon, irresolutely. + +“That’s just loafing, and a waste of shoe-leather. Who’s going to take +care of the household?” + +Simon went into deep thought. + +“Well, then, slay my little girl Anphiska. She’s just going on three. +The girl, to tell the truth, is a kind-hearted, endearing little +creature,--we will all feel sorry for her; but then, there’s no help +for it.... One can’t get everything with just a little!” + +“Lend ear, ye faithful,” said Elijah loudly. “I agree.” + +And the cloud was rent by such a flame that Simon’s lids almost caught +fire, and the heavens were split by such a peal that all the earth +quivered beneath him. + +“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God-Sabbaoth!” whispered Simon. “Heaven +defend us!” + +When he came to, opening his eyes, Simon beheld only the dust-laden +cloud, the deserted, agitated grain, and himself, standing on his knees +in the midst of its ears. The wind was whirling in a pillar over the +road, and the moon had grown entirely dimmed. + +Simon jumped up on his feet. Forgetting all about his short coat, about +the axes and the planes, he started off for home, for the village, +braving the whirl-winds. The heavy rain caught him out on the common. +The dark clouds had piled up above the darkened ravines. The red moon +was sinking beyond them. The village was in heavy slumber, but the +cattle in the yards were stirring uneasily, the roosters were crowing +in alarm. And, running up to his old, half-burned-down hut, Simon heard +the wailing of women within. Nicon of the withered arm was standing at +the threshold, in his sheepskin coat and without a hat; scrawny and +wrinkled beyond his years, he was looking about dully and confusedly. + +“There’s been a calamity at your house,” he said, and one could tell by +his voice that he was not yet thoroughly awake. + +Simon ran into the hut. The women-folk were running about in the +darkness, screaming, looking for the sulphur matches. Simon snatched +a small box of them out from behind the image, and lit a tallow-wick. +The cradle, which was hung near the oven, was swinging from side to +side,--the women had been striking against it when they were running +about. And within it lay the little girl, dead. She had turned all +livid, and a quilt work cap was smouldering on her head. + +Simon has been living happily, ever since. + +_1913._ + + + + +AGLAIA + + +In that community, in that forest village where Aglaia was born and had +grown up, she was called Anna. + +She was bereaved of her father and mother at an early age. The +small-pox visited the village one winter, and many of those who had +gone to their rest were carted off then to the churchyard in the +settlement beyond Sviyat-Oziero.[3] Two coffins in one day stood in the +hut of the Skuratovs as well. The little girl had experienced neither +fear nor pity; she had only come to remember forever that odour which +emanated from them, which is like nothing else on earth and is unknown +and oppressive to the living, and that winter freshness, that cold of +the Lenten thaw before Easter, which had been let into the hut by the +peasants who were carrying the coffins out to the wide sledge standing +under the windows. + +[3] Holy Lake. _Trans._ + +In that forest-covered region the villages are few and small; their +crude, log-enclosed yards are scattered without any order, just as the +clayey hummocks permit and as near as possible to the little rivers, to +the lakes. The folk thereabouts are not so very poor and watch after +their goods, their ancient way of living,--notwithstanding the fact +that they have been going out to hire since time out of mind, leaving +the women to plough the stepmotherly earth, where it is free of the +forest; to mow the grasses in the forest; and in winter to whirr at +the weaving loom. Toward that way of living did Anna’s heart incline in +her childhood; endeared to her were both the black hut and the burning +rush light in its cresset. + +Katherine, her sister, had long been married. She it was who managed +the house,--at first together with her husband, who had been taken into +the household; and later, when he began going away for a whole year +at a time, all by herself. Under her eyes the girl grew, steadily and +rapidly; never did she cry, never did she complain of aught; only she +had constant fits of pensiveness. If Katherine called to her, asking +what the matter with her was, she would answer simply, saying that her +neck was creaking, and that she was listening to it. “There,” she would +say, turning her neck, and her fair little face, “do you hear it?” “And +what are you thinking of?” “Oh, just so. I don’t know.” During her +childhood she never had anything to do with girls of her own age, and +never did she go anywheres,--only once had she gone with her sister +to that old settlement beyond Sviyat-Oziero, where in the churchyard, +under pine trees, crosses of pine wood stick up out of the ground, and +where stands a little church of logs, roofed with blackened tiles of +wood that look like scales. That was the first time that she had been +dressed up in bast slippers and a _sarafan_ of bright coloured linen, +and that a necklace and a yellow kerchief had been bought for her. + +Katherine grieved about her husband and wept; wept, too, about her +childlessness. But, having shed all her tears, she gave a vow to have +no more knowledge of her husband. When her husband would come, she +would meet him joyously, speaking with him cheerily, painstakingly +looked over his shirts, mending all that stood in need of mending; +she bustled about the oven, and was pleased when he liked anything; +but they slept apart, like strangers. And when he would go away, she +would again become wearied and quiet. More and more frequently did she +leave the house, staying at a near-by nunnery, visiting the holy old +man Rodion, who was striving for his soul in a hut within a forest +that was beyond that nunnery. She was perseveringly learning to read, +bringing saintly books from the nunnery, and would read them aloud; +not in her usual voice, but pitching it in high sing-song. She would +be sitting at a table, her eyes cast-down, holding the book with both +hands, while the girl stood near by, listening and picking a splinter +from the table, looking all about the hut, which was always in the best +of order. Drinking in the sounds of her own voice, Katherine read on of +saints, of martyrs, who had contemned the dark things of our earth for +things heavenly, desirous of crucifying their flesh with its lusts and +its passions. Anna listened attentively to the reading, as to a chant +in an unknown tongue. But as soon as Katherine would shut the book, she +would never ask her to read some more: the book was always beyond her +understanding. + +In adolescence she grew not by days, but by hours. When she was about +thirteen, she became exquisitely slender, tall, and strong. She was +gentle, fair of face, blue-eyed, but the work she liked was of the +commonest, of the roughest. When summer came on, when Katherine’s +husband returned, when the entire village went to the mowing, Anna, +too, went with her people and worked like a grown-up. Only, there +is not a great deal of summer work in that region. And once more the +sisters would be soon left alone, once more they would return to their +placid existence; and, once more, having done for the day with the live +stock, with the oven, Anna would be sitting at her sewing, or the loom, +the while Katherine read aloud: of seas, of deserts, of the city of +Rome, of Byzantium, of the miracles and deeds of the first Christians. +In the black hut in the forest sounded then words that enchanted the +ear: “In the land of Cappadocia, in the reign of the devout Byzantian +emperor, Leo the Great ... In the days of the patriarchship of the +most holy Joachhim of Alexandria, in Æthiopia, which is most distant +from us....” Thus did Anna come to know of the virgins and youths, +torn to pieces by wild beasts at pagan circuses; of the heavenly +beauty of Barbara, beheaded by her cruel, ferocious, unnatural parent; +of the relics of saints, guarded by angels on the Mount of Sinai; of +the warrior Eustacius, converted to the true God by the call of the +Crucified Himself, who burst out like a refulgent sun between the horns +of a deer that he, Eustacius, had been pursuing in the chase; of the +labours of Sabbas the Sainted, that dwelt in the Vale of Fires; and of +many, many others, who had spent their bitter days nigh desert springs, +in crypts, and in mountain cenobies.... During her adolescence she +had beheld herself in a dream, clad in a long linen shift and with a +crown of iron on her head. And Katherine had told her: “That stands for +dying, sister,--for an early death.” + +And when she was going on fifteen, she became altogether maidenly, +and folks marvelled at her loveliness; the aureately-white colour of +her face was just the least bit tinged with a delicate blush; her +eyebrows were bushy, of a light flaxen colour, her eyes blue; she was +light, well-made,--unless it were that she was disproportionately +tall, slender, and long of arm; quietly and beautifully did she raise +her lashes. The winter that year was a rigorous one. The forests, +the lakes, were snowed under; the openings in the ice were thickly +frozen over; the frosty wind burned; and of dawns, two mirror-like, +rainbow-tinged suns were flashing at the same time. Before the +Christmas holidays Katherine ate bread-and-_kvass_ pudding, and dried +oatmeal; but Anna would nourish herself only with bread: “I want to +fast till I get another prophetic dream,” she had told her sister. +And toward the New Year again did she have a dream: she saw an early, +frosty morning; the blinding, icy sun seemed to have just rolled out +from beyond the snow-drifts, and a cutting wind was making her catch +her breath; she was flying upon skiis against the wind, toward the sun, +over the white plains, in pursuit of some wondrous ermine,--but she +suddenly tumbled off into some abyss, and was blinded, stiffed in the +cloud of snow dust swirling up at the edge of the precipice from under +the skiis. + +She could understand nothing of this dream; but Anna, during all New +Year’s day, did not once look into her sister’s face. The priests were +going through the village; when they came to see the Skuratovs in +their turn, she hid behind the curtains of the sleeping place above +the big oven. During that winter, not having yet become settled in her +intentions, she was frequently dreamy, and Katherine would say to her: +“I have long been calling you, to go to Father Rodion,--he would ease +you of all your worries!” + +She read to her that winter of Alexis, the Man of God; and of John, who +dwelt in a hut of branches,--both had died in poverty at the gates of +their well-born parents; she read of Simeon Stylites, who had rotted +alive while standing upon a pillar of stone. Anna asked her: “But why +doesn’t Father Rodion stand on a pillar?” And she answered, that the +tasks of holy people are varied, that our Russian martyrs had sought +salvation, for the most part, in the caverns of Kiev,--and, later on, +within impassable forests; or else had attained the Kingdom of Heaven +as naked, useless innocents. During that winter did Anna find out +about the Russian saints as well,--her spiritual forefathers: about +Matthew the Clear-Seeing, upon whom was bestowed the gift of seeing +only the dark and base things of this world, of penetrating into the +innermost hidden recesses of filth in the hearts of men, of beholding +clairvoyantly the visages of underground devils and of hearing their +impious counsellings. She heard of Mark the Grave Digger, who had +dedicated himself to the burial of the dead, and who through his +incessant proximity to Death had gained such sway over it that it +trembled at the sound of his voice; she heard of Isaac the Anchorite, +who had clad his body in the undressed hide of a goat which had grown +to his skin forever, and who gave himself up to mad dances with evil +spirits, that enticed him of nights into skipping and reeling to their +noisy calls, reeds, tympani and dulcimers.... “From him, from Isaac, +started all these innocents,” Katherine had told her. “And how many +there were of them afterward, none can reckon up! Father Rodion said +thus: ‘There have been none of them in any other land save ours; only +to us did the Lord send them as a visitation for our great sins, +and through His great grace.’” And she added what she had heard in +the nunnery,--the grievous tale of how Russia had retreated out of +Kiev into impassable forests and morasses, into its little towns of +bast, under the cruel rule of the princes of Muscovy; what Russia had +endured from seditions, from internicine wars, from ferocious Tartar +hordes and from other chastisements of God: from plague and famine, +from fire and heavenly portents. There was then, said she, such a vast +multitude of the folks of God, suffering and acting the innocent for +the sake of Christ, that the holy songs were not to be heard for their +squealing and clamouring in the churches. And a considerable number +among them, said she, were canonized among the heavenly throng. There +was Simon, from the forests of the Volga regions, who wandered over +desert waste lands, hiding himself from the sight of man, clad only +in a torn shift, and afterward, dwelling in a city, he was castigated +every day by its citizens for his uselessness, and expired from the +wounds inflicted during such castigations. There was Procopius, who +took upon himself ceaseless tortures in the town of Viatka, for that he +would, in the night-time, clamber up into belfries and ring the bells +in quick alarum, as though there were a fiery conflagration. There is +a Procopius that was born in the region of Ziryan, amongst savages, +amongst hunters after beasts; all his life did he go about with three +coal-rakes in his hands; he did adore the desert places, the mournful +wooded banks of the Sukhona, where, perched upon a little bowlder, he +did with tears pray for those that sailed upon it. There was Jacob the +Beatified, who sailed in an oaken log, hollowed out into a coffin, upon +an ice block, down the river Msta to the benighted dwellers of that +poor region; there is John the Hairy, from near Rostov-the-Greater, +whose hair was so unruly that it threw into a panic all whosoever might +behold it; there was John of Vologda, called Big Cap, small of stature, +wrinkled of face, all hung over with crosses,--until his very death he +never took off his head covering, that was like to a pot of cast-iron; +there was Basil, that went about naked, who wore for apparel, in winter +cold and summer heat, only iron chains and a little handkerchief that +he bore in his hand.... “Now, sister,” Katherine had said, “they are +standing before the face of the Lord, rejoicing among the throng of His +Saints; as for their imperishable relics, they repose within shrines +of cypress and of silver, in the holiest of cathedrals, by the side of +kings and prelates!” + +“But why doesn’t Father Rodion be an innocent?” again asked Anna. +And Katherine answered that he had followed in the steps of those +who imitated not Isaac, but Sergius of Radonezh; he had followed in +the steps of the men who had founded monasteries in forests. Father +Rodion, said she, had at first sought salvation in an ancient and famed +desert place, located in the same regions where, in the midst of a +dreary forest, in the hollow trunk of an oak, three centuries old, a +great saint had once dwelt. There had Father Rodion served a strict +novitiate and taken the habit; had merited through the tears of his +repentance, and through his mercilessness toward the flesh, a sight +of the countenance of the Queen of Heaven Herself; he had fulfilled +his vow of seven years’ seclusion and seven years’ silence, but he was +not satisfied with that,--he left the monastery, and had come,--it was +now many, many years ago,--into these forests. He had put on shoes of +bast, a white robe of sack-cloth, a black stole with an eight-pointed +cross upon it, with a depiction of the skull and bones of Adam; he +subsists only upon water and uncooked swamp-grass; he has barred the +little window of his cabin with a holy icon; he sleeps in a coffin, +under an ever-lit holy lamp, and at the hour of every midnight he is +incessantly beset by howling beasts, by throngs of ravening dead men, +and by devils.... + +On her fifteenth birthday, at that very age when a maid ought to become +a bride, Anna forsook the world forever. + +Spring that year came early and was a warm one. The berries ripened +in the woods beyond number; the grasses were waist-high, and at the +beginning of the Fast of St. Peter[4] the entire village went out to +mow them. Anna worked with a will; became sunburned among the grasses +and the flowers; the blush flamed darker upon her face; the kerchief, +pushed lower over the forehead, hid her warm glance. But once, in the +meadow, a great glistening snake with an emerald head wound itself +around her bare foot. Seizing the snake with her slim and long hand, +tearing away its icy and slippery plait, Anna cast it far from her +without even lifting her face. But she was very much scared,--she had +become whiter than linen. And Katherine said to her: “This, sister, is +the third sign for thee: dread the Arch-Tempter, a dangerous time is +coming for thee!” And it may have been the fright, or it might have +been these words,--but for a week after that the deathly pallor did not +depart from Anna’s face. And just before St. Peter’s Day, suddenly and +unexpectedly, she begged to go to the nunnery to hear the all-night +mass,--and did go, and did spend the night there, and in the morning +was found worthy of staying in the crowd of humble folk near the +threshold of the recluse. And a great grace did he show to her: out +of all the crowd did he remark her and did beckon her to him. And she +came out of his cabin with her head bent low, covering half her face +with her kerchief, having pushed it down over the fire of her flaming +cheeks, and in the confusion of her emotions did not see the ground +beneath her. And a chosen vessel, a sacrifice to God, had he called +her; had lit two little wax tapers, and, taking one himself and giving +the other to her, had stood a long while in prayer before an image. And +afterwards he had ordered her to kiss that image,--and had given her +his blessing to enter the nunnery for a novitiate within a short while. +“My joy,--thou simple sacrifice!” he had said to her. “Be thou a bride +not of this earth but of heaven! I know, full well, thy sister hath +prepared thee. I shall concern myself with this also, sinner that I am.” + +[4] In midsummer. _Trans._ + +In the nunnery, in the monastic atmosphere, abandoning the world and +her own will for the sake of her spiritual godfather, Anna, who has +been named Aglaia upon taking the veil, passed three and thirty months. +And when the thirty-third month was almost run, she did depart this +life. + +How she had lived there, how she had sought her salvation, is known to +none, for the remoteness of time. But still some things have remained +in the memory of the people. Once upon a time, some peasant pilgrim +women, from various and distant places, were bound for that wooded +region where Anna had been born. Near a small river which they had +to cross, they met the usual wanderer over holy places, in appearance +ill-favoured, tattered,--even, to put it plainly, queer, for the reason +that his eyes, underneath a derby that had once been high in the world, +were bandaged with a kerchief. The women began questioning him about +the ways, the roads to the nunnery; about Father Rodion himself, and +about Anna. He, in answering them, spoke a bit about himself at first: +“I, now, little sisters, don’t know such a terrible lot, myself; +however, I can chat a bit with you, for I am returning from those very +parts. You,” he said, “must feel uncanny in my company, and I don’t +wonder at it: I’m not a sweet sight to many; whoever I meet, whether he +be afoot or on horseback, seeing a little old pilgrim going through a +forest, hobbling along all by his lonesome with a white kerchief over +his eyes, and, to boot, chanting psalms to God,--of course, he’s taken +aback. But then, for my sins, far too greedy and quick are my eyes; my +sight is so rare and penetrating, that I can see even at night, like +a cat; and being in general sharp-sighted beyond measure, because I +don’t travel with other folk but keep to myself,--well, for that reason +have I resolved to curb a little my corporeal sight....” Then he began +telling them how great a distance, by his reckoning, the pilgrim women +had left to go; toward what regions they should direct their way; where +they might have lodgings and rest; and what sort of a place the nunnery +was. + +“First,” said he, “will come the settlement near Sviyat-Oziero; then +that very village where Anna was born; and then you’ll see another +lake, belonging to the convent, which lake, though shallow, is of a +decent size, and you’ll have to sail over this lake in a boat. And, as +soon as you get out of the boat, right there is the convent itself, so +near you might almost reach it with your hand. Of course, there’s no +end of woods on the other shore as well, and through the trees you can +see, as always, the walls of the convents, the domes of chapels, the +cells, the hostels....” + +Then, for a long while, he related to them the life of Rodion, the +childhood and adolescence of Anna, and, in the end, he told them of her +stay in the nunnery: + +“Oh, her stay was not a long one,” said he. “It is a pity you say, +with such beauty and youth? Of course, to such fools as we, it would +be a piteous thing. But it’s plain to be seen Father Rodion knew well +what he was about. For he was that way with everybody,--kindly, and +meek, and gladsome, yet set on having his way, unto mercilessness; +but he was especially so with Aglaia. I, my little ones, have been at +the spot where she is resting.... A long little grave, beautiful, all +grown over with grass, all green.... And I won’t hide anything,--I +won’t hide that it was there, at her grave, that I thought of tying +up my eyes; it was Aglaia’s example that gave me the idea; for she, I +must tell you, during all her stay in the nunnery, did not for a single +hour raise her eyes; even as she had pushed the veil down over them, +so did it remain, and she was so sparing of her speech, so evasive, +that even Father Rodion himself wondered at her. And yet, come to think +of it, it was no easy matter for her to bear her task--to bid eternal +farewell to the world, to the face of mankind! And her work in the +nunnery was the very hardest that she could find, while her nights she +spent standing in prayer. But then, how Father Rodion had come to love +her! He marked her out from all the rest, let her come every day into +his little cabin; held long converse with her about the future fame of +the nunnery; even revealed his visions to her,--with a strict order of +silence. Well, and so she burned out, like a candle, in the briefest +time.... Again do you sigh, being sorry? I do agree with you, it is a +sad thing! But I will tell you something far greater; for her great +humility, for her disregard of this world, for her silence and for her +toiling beyond her strength, he wrought a thing unheard of: toward the +end of the third year of her striving, he invested her with the habit, +and afterward, after prayer and holy meditation, he did summon her to +him on a certain fearsome hour and commanded her to her end. Yes, that +is just the way he spoke to her: ‘My joy, thy time has come! Remain +thou in my memory just as glorious as thou now art, standing before +me in this hour; depart to God!’ And what think ye? Within four and +twenty hours she did forsake this life. She lay down, burning as with +a fire,--and passed out. True, he did console her,--he confided to her +before her end that by reason of her not having been able, during the +first days of her novitiate, to keep just a few things of his secret +discourses, only her lips would be rotted. He offered up silver coins +for her funeral, and coppers to be given out at her burial; a bundle +of candles for a forty days’ mass for her; a yellow candle worth a +whole rouble for her coffin; and the coffin itself,--rounded out, of +oak, hollowed out of one piece. And he blessed her as she was laid +out, slender and just a trifle too tall, within that coffin, with her +hair all let out, in two shroud-shifts. She was in an under-cassock +of white, with a black selvage all around, and in a black mantle with +white crosses on top of it; upon her little head they put a green +little cap of velvet, broidered with gold; on top of the cap a small +skull cap; and after that they tied a blue shawl with tassels upon her +head, and then they put a leathern rosary into her dear hands.... Oh, +I can’t tell how fine they arrayed her. And yet, little ones, there +is a spiteful rumour which is of the devil, that she did not want to +die,--oh, how she didn’t want to! + +“Departing in such youth and in such beauty, she took her farewell of +everybody, so they say, with tears, saying to all, in a loud voice, +‘Forgive me!’ And at the very last she closed her eyes and said +distinctly: ‘And against thee, Mother-Earth, have I sinned in body +and soul,--wilt thou forgive me?’ And those words are fearful words: +touching their foreheads to the earth, men uttered them in the prayer +for repentance throughout ancient Russia, before Whitsuntide, before +the heathen day of the water nixies.” + +_1916._ + + + + +THE GRAMMAR OF LOVE + + +A certain Ivlev was once travelling, in the beginning of June, to a +distant region of his provence. + +The _tarantass_, with its dusty top all awry, had been given him by +his brother-in-law, at whose estate he was passing the summer. The +_troika_[5] of small but well-broken horses, with thick matted manes, +he had hired in the village, from a wealthy _moujik_. They were driven +by a son of that _moujik_, a lad of eighteen,--a plodding fellow, a +good husbandman. He was all the time cogitating about something with +displeasure, seemed to be offended at something, could not take a +joke. And, having become convinced that there was no possibility of +getting into talk with him, Ivlev yielded to that peaceful and aimless +observation, which chimes in so well with the beat of hoofs and the +jangling of little bells. + +[5] Three horses, harnessed abreast. _Trans._ + +The drive was very pleasant at first: the day was warm, grayish: the +road a much travelled one; the meadowlands were full of flowers and +sky-larks; from the grain-fields, from the dove-coloured fields of +rye, spreading onward as far as the eye could see, a pleasant little +breeze was blowing, bearing flower pollen over slanting masses of the +grain and rye, at times making this pollen dust swirl like smoke,--and +the distance even seemed misty from it. The lad, in a new cap and a +clumsy jacket made of lustrine, was sitting upright; the fact that the +horses were completely entrusted to him, and that he was wearing his +best clothes, made him especially serious. As for the horses, they +coughed and ran along without hurrying; the off-horse at times made +the whiffle-tree scrape against the wheel, at others strained in his +harness, and one horse-shoe was constantly flashing under him with its +white steel. + +“Will we stop at the count’s?” asked the lad, without turning around, +when a village came into view ahead of them, enclosing the horizon with +its hedges and garden. + +“What for?” said Ivlev. + +The lad was silent for a time, and having knocked off with a whip a +large gadfly that had stuck to a horse, answered sombrely: + +“Why, to drink tea....” + +“It isn’t tea you’ve got on your mind,” said Ivlev, “you’re always +trying to save the horses.” + +“It isn’t travelling that worries a horse,--it’s food,” answered the +lad with conviction. + +Ivlev looked about him: the weather had turned bleaker, discoloured +clouds had gathered from all sides, and drops of rain were already +falling,--these unassuming days always wind up with a downpour.... An +old man in spectacles, who was ploughing near the village, said that +only the young countess was at home, but they drove up never the less. +The young fellow pulled a long coat over his shoulders, and satisfied +with the fact that the horses were resting, was calmly getting soaked +under the rain upon the driver’s seat of the _tarantass_, which had +been drawn up in the middle of the dirty yard, near a stone trough that +had sunk into the ground, which ground was all trampled over by the +hoofs of cattle. He was inspecting his boots, was adjusting with his +whip-stock the breech-band of the shaft-horse; while Ivlev sat in the +drawing room, which was darkening from the rain. He was chatting with +the countess and awaiting tea. There was already a smell of shavings +burning; the thick green smoke of the samovar, which a barefooted wench +on the steps was stuffing with bundles of brightly burning sticks, +pouring kerosene over them, floated past the window. The countess was +in a capacious pink dressing gown, which showed her powdered bosom; +she smoked, inhaling deeply; she patted her hair frequently, baring +her firm and rounded arms to the shoulders; inhaling the smoke and +laughing, she kept on leading the talk around to love, and, among other +things told him about her near neighbour, the land-owner Khvoshchinsky, +who, as Ivlev had known ever since childhood, had all his life long +been a maniac over his love for his chambermaid Lushka, who had died in +early youth. “Ah, this legendary Lushka!” Ivlev had remarked jestingly, +slightly confused over his confession. “Because this queer fellow had +made a divinity of her, had dedicated all his life to insane dreams +of her, I, in my youth, was almost in love with her: I fancied, in +thinking of her, God knows what; although, they do say, she was not +at all good-looking.” “Yes?” said the countess, without listening. +“Why, he died this winter, you know. And Pisarev,--the only one whose +visits he tolerated, because of their old friendship,--affirms that in +everything else he was not in the least insane, and I believe it,--he +was simply different from the run of the men of to-day....” Finally the +barefooted wench with unusual carefullness served him with a glass of +strong gray tea out of a teapot, and with a small basket of fly-specked +tea cookies. + +When they started off again, the rain had set in in earnest. It was +necessary to raise the top, to cover up with the calcined, shrunken +apron, to sit all hunched up. The horses clattered their muffled bells; +little streams ran over their dark and glistening haunches; the grasses +swished succulently under their wheels as they passed some boundary +or other, among the fields of grain, through which the young fellow +had driven in the hope of shortening the way; the warm rye-scented +air gathered underneath the top, blending with the odour of the old +_tarantass_.... “So that’s how things are,--Khvoshchinsky has died,” +Ivlev was thinking. “I absolutely must drive up, just to have a glance +at this deserted sanctuary of the mysterious Lushka.... But what sort +of a man was this Khvoshchinsky? A madman, or simply some sort of an +overwhelmed soul, all centred in one thing?” To judge by the stories +of old land-owners, who were of the same age as Khvoshchinsky, he +had at one time passed for an extraordinarily clever fellow in this +province. And suddenly there fell upon him this love, this Lushka; then +her unexpected death came,--and everything went to rack and ruin. He +locked himself up in the house, in that room where Lushka had lived and +died, and had sat there through more than twenty years,--not only not +going out anywhere, but not showing himself to anybody even on his own +estate. He had sat a hole through and through the mattress on Lushka’s +bed, and ascribed literally everything that took place in the world to +Lushka’s influence: if there were a thunderstorm,--it was Lushka who +sent it; if a war were declared,--it meant that Lushka had so decided; +if the harvest happened to be bad,--the peasants had not succeeded in +pleasing Lushka.... + +“You’re driving to Khvoshchinsky’s, aren’t you?” called out Ivlev, +putting his head out in the rain. + +“To Khvoshchinsky’s,” came from the lad, indistinctly through the noise +of the rain; water was running down from his drooping cap by this time. +“Going up Pisarev’s hill....” + +Ivlev did not know any such road. The settlements were constantly +becoming poorer and farther away from the world. The boundary came to +an end, the horses were going at a walk, and brought the careening +_tarantass_ through a washed-out hollow to the bottom of a little +hill, into some still unmown meadows, the green declivities of which +stood out mournfully against the low-lying clouds. Then the road, now +disappearing, now finding itself anew, began to wind in and out, along +the bottoms of gullies, through ravines filled with alder bushes and +branching osiers. They came upon somebody’s little apiary--several +small logs standing upon a slope, among tall grass with wild +strawberries glimmering red through it.... They made a detour of some +old dam, sunk among nettles, and a pond long since dried up--a deep +hollow, grown over with burdocks taller than a man in height.... A pair +of black snipe with a mournful cry darted out of them towards the rainy +sky.... But upon the dam, amidst the nettles, an old, big bush was +blossoming out with little pale pink flowers,--that charming little +tree which is called God’s Own Tree,[6]--and Ivlev suddenly recalled +the localities, recalled that he had ridden through here more than once +on horseback in his youth, with a gun slung over his shoulders.... + +[6] Abrotanum; southern wood. _Trans._ + +“They do say that she drowned herself right here,” said the young +fellow unexpectedly. + +“You’re talking about the mistress of Khvoshchinsky, aren’t you?” asked +Ivlev. “That isn’t so; she didn’t even think of drowning.” + +“No,--she did drown herself,” said the lad, “only, they think that he +went mad from his poverty, most likely, and not on account of her....” + +And after a silence, he roughly added: + +“Well, we ought to be driving on again.... For this same Khvoshchinskoë +now.... Look at how petered out them horses be!” + +“Suit yourself,” said Ivlev. + +Upon the hillock whither the road (now lead-coloured from the rain) +led, upon a clearing from which the trees had been carried away, +among the wet, rotting chips and leaves, among the stumps and young +aspen growths, with their bitter and fresh scent, a solitary hut +was standing. There was never a soul around,--only the singing +green-finches, sitting under the rain upon tall flowers, rang +through the entire thin forest that stretched upward beyond the +hut. But when the _troika_, splashing through the mud, had come +abreast of its threshold, a whole pack of huge hounds dashed out from +somewhere,--black, chocolate, and smoke-coloured,--and with ferocious +baying swirled around the horses, jumping up to their very muzzles, +turning head over heels as they ran, and even spinning up to the very +top of the _tarantass_. At the same time, and just as unexpectedly, +the sky over the _tarantass_ was split by a deafening peal of thunder, +which had not sounded once during the day, while the young fellow began +in a rage to lash the dogs with his whip, and the horses dashed away at +a gallop among the aspen trunks that began flashing before the eyes.... + +The village of Khvoshchinskoë could already be seen beyond the forest. +The hounds lost ground and at once grew quiet, trotting back in a +business-like manner; the forest gave way and again fields opened up +ahead. Evening was coming on, and one could not determine now whether +the storm-clouds, on three sides, were dispersing or encroaching. On +the left was one almost black, with blue openings through which light +showed; on the right, a hoary one, rumbling with ceaseless thunder; +while toward the west, from Khvoshchinsky’s estate, from beyond the +sloping hills over the river valley, was a turbidly blue one, with +dusty streaks of rain through which could be seen the roseate mountains +of clouds piled in the distance. But the rain was abating about the +_tarantass_, and Ivlev, standing up, all bespattered with mud, threw +back with pleasure the top, now grown heavy, and freely breathed in the +fragrant dampness of the field. + +He was looking at the approaching estate, was beholding, at last, that +of which he had heard so much; but, even as formerly, it seemed to +him that Lushka had lived and died not twenty years ago, but almost +in times immemorial. Looking out over the bottom-land, all trace of +the shallow little river was lost in the lush vegetation, over which +a white king-fisher was soaring. Further on, on a mound, lay rows of +hay, grown dark from the rain; among them, far apart from one another, +were spread out ancient silvery poplars. The house, rather a large one +and at one time white, with its wet roof glistening, stood upon an +absolutely bare spot. There was neither garden, nor any outbuildings +around it,--only two pillars of brick in lieu of gates, and with +burdocks growing in the ditches. When the horses had crossed the little +river by a ford and had gone up the hill, some woman, in a man’s summer +overcoat with its pockets hanging down, was driving a few turkey hens +through the burdocks. The _façade_ of the house was unusually bleak; +it had few windows, and all of them were small, and set within thick +walls. But then, the sombre front entrances were enormous. From one of +them a young man in the gray blouse of a high-school student, belted +with a broad strap, was looking with wonder at the arrivals; he was +black-haired, with handsome eyes, and of very pleasing appearance, +although his face was pale, and as spotted with freckles as a bird’s +egg. + +It was necessary to explain the visit in some way. Having climbed up to +the entrance and given his name, Ivlev said that he wanted to see, and +perhaps to buy, the library that, so the countess had said, had been +left by the deceased. And the young man, flushing deeply and pulling +down his blouse from behind, at once led him into the house. “So this, +then, is the son of the famous Lushka!” reflected Ivlev, throwing a +rapid glance at everything that met his eyes. He looked back frequently +and said anything that came to mind first, just so as to have an +additional glance at the master of the house, who appeared too youthful +for his years. The latter answered hurriedly, but monosyllabically; he +was evidently confused both by his bashfulness and his greed. That he +was fearfully glad over the possibility of selling the books, and that +he had conceived the notion of not parting with them at a cheap price, +was apparent from his very first words, from that awkward hastiness +with which he announced that books such as those in his possession +could not be gotten for any amount of money. Through the half-dark +entry, which was spread with straw rusty from dampness, he led Ivlev +into a large ante-room. + +“So this is where your father lived?” asked Ivlev, entering and taking +off his hat. + +“Yes, yes,--here,” the young man hastened to answer. “That is, of +course, not just here ... for they used to sit in the bedroom most of +all ... but, of course, they came here also....” + +“Yes, I know,--for he was ill,” said Ivlev. + +The young man flared up. + +“That is, ill in what way?” he said, and manlier notes sounded in his +voice. “That’s all gossip; he was not at all ailing mentally.... he +simply read all the time, and did not go out anywhere, that is all.... +But no, don’t you take your hat off, please,--it’s very cold here, for +we don’t live in this half of the building....” + +True, it was far chillier in the house than it was out in the air. In +the dismal ante-room, its walls pasted with newspapers, upon the sill +of a window, dismal from the storm clouds, was standing a quail cage +made out of bast. A little gray bag was hopping over the floor of its +own volition. Bending down, the young man captured it and put it down +on a bench, and Ivlev understood that there was a quail imprisoned in +the little bag. They next entered the parlour. This room, with its +windows toward the west and toward the north, took up almost half the +entire house. Through one window, against the gold of the evening glow +that showed through the clearing clouds, could be seen a century-old +weeping birch tree, all black; through the remaining window, a tall, +withering acacia tree. The front corner was taken up by a shrine +without glass, with images standing and hanging within it; among them +stood out, both by its great size and its antiquity, one trimmed with +silver, and upon this image, their wax gleaming yellow like dead flesh, +were lying wedding candles tied with pale-green bows. + +“Pardon me, please,” Ivlev was about to ask, overcoming his scruples, +“but, did your father really....” + +“No, that’s just so,” mumbled the young man, instantly grasping his +meaning. “He bought these candles after her death already.... And he +even wore a wedding ring all the time.” + +The furniture in this parlour was crude. But then, in the spaces +between the windows stood exquisite what-nots, crowded from top to +bottom with porcelain knick-knacks, crystal, tea china, and goblets +rimmed with gold. As for the floor, it was entirely strewn over with +dead bees, that crackled under foot. The empty parlour, as well, +was strewed with the bees. Having traversed it, and also some other +sombre room with a sleeping ledge built against the side of a stove, +the young man came to a stop before a low little door and took a big +key out of his trousers’-pocket. Having turned it with difficulty in +the rusty key-hole, he threw open the door, mumbling something,--and +Ivlev saw a cubby-hole with two windows: against one wall stood a bare +iron cot without any bedding; against another--two little bookcases of +bird’s-eye birch. + +“So this is the library?” asked Ivlev, walking up to one of these. + +And the young man, having hastened to answer in the affirmative, +helped him to open the little book-case, and began to follow his hands +covetously. + +The strangest of books did this library consist of! Ivlev would open +the thick bindings, would turn over a rough, gray page, and would read: +_The Forbidden Ground_.... _The Morning Star and Fight Dæmons_.... +_Reflections on the Mysteries of Creation_.... _A Marvellous Journey +into a Magick Region_.... _The Latest Dream Book_.... And yet his hands +would persist in trembling slightly. So this was what that lonely +soul, which had secluded itself forever from the world in this little +room and had but lately quitted it, had nurtured itself upon? ... But +perhaps this soul had not really been insane, after all? + +“‘There is a state....’” The lines of Baratynsky came into Ivlev’s mind: + + There is a state,-- + But what name shall it be given? + ’Tis neither dream nor waking, wavering twixt both; + And comprehending it within him, man + To frenzy’s verge is driven.... + +It had cleared up in the west; gold was peeping out from behind the +beautiful lavender-coloured clouds and strangely illumined this humble +sanctuary of love,--a love beyond understanding, which had transformed +into some ecstatic existence a whole life that perhaps was destined +to be a most commonplace one had there not happened to be a certain +Lushka, mysterious in her enchantment.... + +Taking a little foot-stool from under the cot, Ivlev sat down before +the cabinet and took out his cigarettes, imperceptibly scrutinizing and +memorizing the room. + +“Do you smoke?” he asked the young man who was bending over him. + +The latter again blushed. “I do,” he mumbled, and tried to smile. “That +is, I don’t exactly smoke,--rather, I try to jolly myself.... But, +however, if I may,--very much obliged to you....” + +And, having clumsily taken a cigarette, he lit it with his hands +trembling, walked over to the window-sill and sat down upon it, barring +out the yellow light of the evening glow. + +“And what is this?” asked Ivlev, bending down to the third shelf, upon +which lay only a single volume, very small, resembling a prayer-book, +and where also stood a casket whose corners were trimmed with silver, +grown black with time. + +“That’s just ... the necklace of my late mother,” answered the young +man, after a confused hesitation, but trying to speak negligently. + +“May I have a look?” + +“If you please ... although it really is very simple ... it won’t +interest you....” + +And opening the casket, Ivlev saw a much worn bit of cord, a string of +very cheap little round blue globules, resembling stone ones. And such +emotion possessed him upon glancing at these globules, which had at one +time lain upon the neck of her whose lot it was to be so beloved, and +whose dim image could no longer be anything but beautiful, that his +eyes grew dim from the beating of his heart.... Having looked his fill, +Ivlev carefully put the casket back in its place; he then took up the +little book. This was a tiny, beautifully made _Grammar of Love, or the +Art of Loving and of Being Loved in Return_, published almost a hundred +years ago. + +“This book, to my regret, I cannot sell,” said the young man with +difficulty. “It’s very valuable.... He even put it under his pillow.” + +“But perhaps you will let me have just a look at it?” said Ivlev. + +“If you please,” said the young man in a whisper. + +And, overcoming his compunctions, vaguely oppressed by the young man’s +gaze, Ivlev began slowly turning the leaves of _The Grammar of Love_. +It was all divided into short chapters: _Of Beauty_, _Of the Heart_, +_Of the Mind_, _Of Deportment_, _Of Love’s Signs_, _Of Attack and +Defense_, _Of Falling Out and Reconciliation_, _Of Platonic Love_.... +Each chapter consisted of very brief, elegant, at times very subtle, +sentences, and some of them were very lightly marked by a pen in red +ink. “Love is not a mere episode in our Life,” Ivlev read. “Our Reason +contradicts the Heart and doth not convince the latter.” “Women are +never so strong as when they arm themselves with Weakness.” “We adore +Woman because she holds sovereign sway over our Ideal Dream.” “Vanity +chooses; True Love,--never.” “A Woman of Beauty must take second place; +the first belongs to the Woman of Charm. It is the latter that becomes +the Sovereign of our Heart: before we have rendered our Heart an +account of Her, our Heart becomes a Captive to Love for Eternity....” +Then followed _An Explanation of the Language of Flowers_, and again +here and there were marked passages: + + _Wild Poppy_--Sadness. + _Priest’s Cap_--Thy alluring beauty is imprinted on my heart. + _Periwinkle_--Sweet Remembrances. + _The Mournful Geranium_--Melancholy. + _Worm-wood_--Eternal Bitterness. + +While upon a blank page at the very end, in tiny, bead-like characters, +was a stanza of eight lines, written in the same ink. The young man +stretched out his neck as he peeped into _The Grammar of Love_, and +said with a forced smile: + +“He wrote that himself.” + +Half an hour later, Ivlev bade him good-bye with relief. Out of all +the books he had bought only this small volume at a high price. The +turbidly-golden evening glow was fading in the clouds beyond the +fields, yellowly reflected in the puddles; the fields were wet and +green. The lad was not in any hurry, but Ivlev did not spur him on. +The young fellow was saying that that woman who had been driving the +turkey hens through the burdocks before was the deacon’s wife; that +young Khvoshchinsky has been living with her for a long time now, that +he already has children. Ivlev was not listening. He was constantly +thinking of Lushka; of her necklace, which had left a complex feeling +within him, resembling that which he had once experienced in a little +Italian town upon beholding the relics of a female saint. “She has come +into my life forever!” he reflected. And, taking _The Grammar of Love_ +out of his pocket, he slowly read over, by the light of the evening +glow, the verses written upon its last page: + + We were assigned a thorny wreath + In this world, where all evils be; + The love I bore was unto death,-- + It died with me. + + But--“Live thou in legends of Love’s bliss!” + Shall greet it hearts that with Love strove; + And to their grandchildren shall show this + _Grammar of Love_. + +_1915._ + + + + +A NIGHT CONVERSATION + + +I + +The sky had been silvery with stars all night long, the fields +beyond the garden and the threshing floor was darkling evenly, and +the wind-mill, with the two horns of its wings, showed sharply black +against the clear horizon. But the stars gave out sparks, trembling, +frequently cutting the sky with narrow green streaks; the garden was +fitfully murmurous, and already chill autumn could be heard in its +murmurings. From the direction of the mill, from the sloping plain, +from the desolated stubble-field, a strong wind was blowing. + +The farm hands had sated themselves at supper,--it was the holiday of +the Assumption of the Holy Virgin,--and had avidly smoked their fill on +their way through the garden to the threshing barn. Having thrown on +their long great coats, tight at the waist, and falling in folds over +their short sheepskin coats, they were going there to sleep, to guard +the heaps of grain. Following behind the farm hands, dragging a pillow, +walked the master’s son, a tall high-school student, with three white +_borzoi_ hounds running at his heels. Upon the threshing floor, in the +fresh wind, there was a pleasant smell of chaff, of new rye straw. +They all lay down comfortably in it, in the very biggest stack of all, +as near as possible to the piles of grain and the corn kiln. The dogs +fussed about, rustled for a while at the feet of the workers, and also +quieted down. + +Over the heads of the recumbent men the broad Milky Way, dividing into +two smokily-translucent branches, glimmered whitely and faintly, filled +with the fine star dust suspended within them. It was quiet and warm in +the straw. But a north-east wind, again and again, ran disquietingly +through the brushwood that was darkling along the ditch to the left, +with its rampart of earth; and increasing, it neared with an inimical +noise. Then a cool breath would reach the face, the hands, together +with a bad odour from the lanes between the heaps of grain. And over +the horizon, beyond the irregular black blotches of the brushwood, icy +diamonds vividly flared up; the Capella was bursting into vari-coloured +fires. + +Having settled down, they all shut their eyes, after a yawning spell. +The wind was dreamily rustling the prickling straws that stuck out +above their heads. But its coolness reached their faces, and they all +felt that they did not want to sleep as yet,--they had slept their +fill after dinner. The high-school student alone was languishing from +a sweet longing for sleep. But the fleas would not let him sleep. He +started scratching, let his thoughts run on wenches, on the widow +through whom he, with the help of the farm hand Pashka, had lost his +innocence that very summer, and he also became broad awake. + +This student was a thin, awkward stripling with an unusually soft +colouring--his face was so white that even sunburn had no effect upon +it; he was blue-eyed, with outrageously big hands and feet, with a +big Adam’s-apple. He had not parted company with the farm hands all +summer,--at first he had carted manure, then the sheaves; he put in +order the piles of grain, he smoked an atrocious cheap tobacco, he +imitated the _moujiks_ in speech and in his roughness with wenches, who +always started laughing at him in chorus, greeting him with catcalls +and cries of “Veretenkin! Veretenkin!”[7]--a stupid nickname invented +by Ivan, who was a helper at the threshing machine. He passed his +nights now at the threshing floor, now in the horse stable; he did not +change his linen and his canvas clothes for weeks at a time, nor would +he take off his tarred boots; he raised blood-blisters on his feet, +unaccustomed to coarse foot-cloths; he lost all the buttons on his +summer uniform overcoat, which had been soiled by wheels and manure, +had broken the letters and the little silver leaves on his uniform cap. + +[7] “Spindle-Shanks! Spindle-Shanks!” _Trans._ + +“He has broken away from the house entirely!” his mother would say of +him, with a caressing, kindly regret, enraptured even by his defects. +“Of course, he’ll pick up, become stronger,--but just look what a +matted choate he is,--he doesn’t even wash his neck!” she would say, +smiling to her guests and pulling his soft, chestnut locks, trying to +get at the soft little spiral, curling like a girl’s, at the nape of +his neck,--dark, contrasting with the childishly white flesh visible +under the blouse that buttoned at the side, contrasting with the large +vertebræ under the fine, smooth skin. But he would sulkily turn his +head away from under her caressing hand, frowning and blushing. He grew +not by the day but by the hour, and as he walked he stooped, whistling +meditatively, angularly lumbering from side to side. He still ate +linden blossoms and the gum of cherry trees; he carried, although by +now secretly, a sling shot to shoot sparrows with, but he would have +been consumed with shame had this been revealed, and he constantly +kept his hands in his pockets. Only last winter he had played Redskins +with his little sister Lily. But in the spring, when through all the +streets of the town streams were running and shimmering with a blinding +dazzle; when the white window-sills in the class-rooms were aflame with +the sun; when the teacher’s room was shot through and through with +the sun, and the principal’s cat was lying in ambush for the first +finches in the high-school garden, still filled with silvery snow,--in +the spring he had gotten the notion that he had fallen in love with +the slender little Youshkova, a bookish, serious-minded high-school +girl; he had struck up a close friendship with Simashko, a spectacled +six-termer, and had determined to dedicate his entire summer vacation +to self-culture. But in the summer his dreams about self-culture were +already forgotten; a new resolve was taken,--to study the common +people; which resolve had soon passed into a passionate infatuation +with the _moujiks_. + +On the evening before the Assumption, the high-school boy was heavy +with sleep while still at supper. Toward the end of every day, when +his head would grow heavy and fall down on his chest,--from fatigue, +from talking with the farm hands, from his rôle of a grown-up,--his +boyishness returned: he wanted to play a bit with Lily, to have a brief +reverie, before falling asleep, of some distant and unknown lands, +of extraordinary manifestations of passion and self-sacrifice, of +the lives of Livingston and Baker, and not of the _moujiks_ written +about by Naumov and Nephedov, whom he had given his word of honour to +Simashko to read; he wanted to sleep, for at least one night, at home, +instead of getting up before the sun, in the cold morning light, when +even dogs yawn and stretch so languorously.... But the maid entered, +saying that the farm hands had already gone to the threshing floor. +Without listening to his mother’s calls, the high-school lad threw his +uniform overcoat with its bobbing belt over his shoulders, and put on +his cap; grabbing the pillow out of the maid’s hands, he caught up with +the farm hands in the lane. He staggered from drowsiness as he walked, +dragging the pillow by a corner, and, as soon as he had stumbled up to +the heap of straw and had crawled under an old raccoon overcoat lying +there, he sailed off into some sweet, black darkness. But the tiny +dog-fleas began to burn him as with fire; the farm hands began talking +among themselves.... + +There were five of them: Khomut,[8] a kindly, shaggy old man; +Kiriushka, a lame, white-eyed, irresponsible lad, who gave himself up +to a childish vice, which fact everybody knew and which made Kiriushka +still more irresponsible, making him bear in silence all sorts of +jeers about his short leg, twisted at the knee; Pashka, a good-looking +_moujik_ of twenty-four and recently married; Theodot, an elderly +_moujik_, from another region, somewhere near Liebedyana, nick-named +Postnii;[9] and Ivan,--a very stupid fellow, but one who deemed himself +an amazingly clever, cunning, and mercilessly-scoffing man. This last +held in contempt all work, save work with agricultural machines; he +wore a blue blouse and had impressed everybody with the idea that he +was a born machinist, although everybody knew that he did not know a +blamed thing about the construction of even a simple winnowing machine. +He was always narrowing his morosely-ironic little eyes and pursing +up his thin lips, never letting a pipe out of his teeth. He generally +kept a portentous silence; but whenever he did speak, it was only to +annihilate somebody or something with a comment or a nick-name. He +scoffed at absolutely everything: at sense and folly, at simplicity and +slyness, at despondency and laughter; at God and his own mother, at +the gentry and the _moujiks_. The nick-names he bestowed were absurd +and incomprehensible, but he uttered them with such an enigmatic air +that it seemed to everybody that they had both a meaning and a caustic +aptness. He had not spared even himself, and had given himself a +nick-name: “Rogojkin,”[10] he had said once in reference to himself, +hinting at something so weightily, so maliciously, that everybody +rolled from laughter, and afterwards he was never known as anything but +Rogojkin. He had christened the high-school student as well, had said +something nonsensical about him as well: “Veretenkin.” + +[8] “Horse-collar.” _Trans._ + +[9] “Lenten.” _Trans._ + +[10] “Made out of matting.” _Trans._ + +The school-boy,--so he thought,--had come to know these people +well during the summer, had become attached to all of them in +different ways,--even to Ivan, who unmercifully made fun of him. +He was learning one thing or another from them, was adapting their +pronunciation,--absolutely, as it proved, unlike the speech of the +_moujiks_ in books; adopting their unexpected, absurd, but unshakable +conclusions, the uniformity of their ready wisdom, their coarseness +and indifference, their capacity for work and their dislike of it. And, +had he gone to the city after the vacation, without reverting to his +infatuation for the life of the _moujiks_ during the next summer, he +would all his life have thought that he had observed the common people +of Russia very well,--if, by accident, a lengthy, frank conversation +had not sprung up among the farm hands on this night. + +It was started by the old man who was lying alongside of the school-boy +and who was scratching more than anybody else. + +“Pestering the life out of you, young master, hey? They’re nothing but +a misery, Khomut!” said he,--the word “Khomut” he used to characterize +not only his entire existence, but also all its weariness, all its +unpleasantness. + +“Can’t stand it,” replied the school-boy. “The women and wenches now, +the devil take them, they won’t touch. But who would you think they +ought to be biting if not them?” + +“Main thing is, whether a body wear drawers or no, it makes no +difference to them fleas,” indifferently agreed the old man, giving +off, as he tossed about, a strong odour,--of a body long unwashed, and +of a worn peasant’s coat that had become permeated with the smoke of a +chimneyless hut. + +The others kept silence. Usually, they were jocose before falling +asleep, questioning Pashka about his conjugal life, while he answered +them with such unperturbed and gay shamelessness that even the +school-boy, who was constantly entranced by him, never taking his eyes +off his intelligent and animated face, was vexed over any one’s being +able to speak so of one’s own young wife. Now no one seemed about to +begin questioning, and the student wanted to do so himself, in order to +excite his imagination, forever empoisoned by the widow, and to hear +the self-assured voice of Pashka,--when the latter stretched himself, +sat up, and began rolling a crude cigarette. The old man raised up his +head, covered with a cap, and shook it. + +“Eh, but you’ll burn this place down some day, young fellow!” said he. +“Watch out. It don’t take much to bring on trouble.” + +“Well, I’ll get out of it by blamin’ the young master,” answered +Pashka, a trifle hoarse from a cold; and, having cleared his throat, he +started laughing. “He’s smoking all the time himself. Wonderful night +to-night, young master,” said he, changing his tone to a serious one +and turning around to the school-boy. “What’s the only thing lacking on +this night, you might say? Why, the moon.” + +They all felt that he wanted to tell something. And, truly, having kept +silent for a while, without eliciting any reply, he suddenly added: + +“Are you asleep, young master? What hour might it be now?” + +The school-boy raised himself up, pulled his silver watch out of his +trousers’-pocket, and began inspecting it by the light of the stars. + +“Half-past ten,” said he, bending over. + +“Well, now, I just knew it was that,” concurred Pashka, gaily and +self-assuredly, lighting his cigarette, which was rolled somewhat in +the form of a pipe; it was gripped in one corner of his mouth between +his teeth, and he lit it with a stinking sulphur match flaming within +his cupped hands. “Just exactly at this time last year I killed a man.” + +And the school-boy at once straightened up, letting his hands +drop,--and he seemed to be turned to stone during all the time that the +others talked. At rare intervals he would put in a word, but it was as +though it were not he, but some other who was talking in his stead. +Then everything within him began to shiver in an icy ague fit inducive +of senseless laughter, and his face began to burn, as though it were +aflame. + + +II + +Ivan, as always, maintained a portentous silence. Kiriushka was not at +all interested in whatever they were talking about; he lay thinking +his own thoughts,--mostly about an accordeon, the purchase of which +was his most cherished dream. Theodot, too, who lay leaning upon his +elbow, was silent for a long while. He was a strong, flat-chested +_moujik_, who at the beginning of the summer had not been considered +by the farm hands as one of them, because he wore a short sheepskin +coat, without a waistline and without folds in its skirts,--which was +the kind worn by the Tartars of Kazan. He had seemed a stranger to the +school-boy as well. Just as he liked the cheerful composure of Pashka, +the smoothness of his mannerisms, his sun-burned face, so he was not +disposed to intimacy by the face of Theodot, also calm but devoid of +any expression, large, ashen-gray, wrinkled, with sparse moustaches, +always wet from the slavering caused by his pipe; his whitish, +weather-beaten lips were turned considerably outward. Theodot was +listening attentively, but did not put in a single word during Pashka’s +narrative,--only now and then he would give a consumptive cough and +spit into the straw. And at first the conversation was sustained only +by the dumbfounded school-boy and the old man. + +“What are you lyin’ about nothin’ at all for?” said the old man +indifferently, upon hearing the boastful declaration of Pashka. “What +sort of a man could you have killed? Where?” + +“Bust my eyes if I’m lyin’!” responded Pashka warmly, turning in the +old man’s direction. “Last year, on Assumption. Not only was it wrote +up in all the papers,--it was even in the order sent to the regiment.” + +“Well, where was it you killed him?” + +“Why, in the Caucasus, in the Zukhdens. Honest to God! Of course, I +ain’t agoin’ to lie about it; I didn’t do it all single-handed,--Koslov +also fired a shot; he’s also one of ours, from the Eletzkaya province. +I wasn’t the only one that got the thanks for it; the division +commander thanked him too, in front of all the men lined up, and +rewarded us with a rouble each, right off; but then, I know without any +mistake that it was me that winged him.” + +“What him?” asked the high-school student. + +“Why, a convict; this Cheorchian, now.” + +“Hold on,” the old man interrupted him. “You just tell the whole thing +sensibly. Where was you stationed?” + +“There he goes again!” said Pashka with assumed vexation. “There’s a +queer fellow,--won’t believe nothing. We was stationed at these New +Ceniyaks, now....” + +“I know the place,” said the old man. “We, too, was stationed there for +eighteen days.” + +“There, you see now,--that means I ain’t just making it up as I go +along, for I can tell you how this happened, just about. We wasn’t +stationed for no eighteen days then, brother, but for a whole year +and seven months; as for these here convicts, we was in duty bound to +escort them up to the very Zukhdens. These here convicts, now, was the +most important criminals what could possibly be,--rebels, they was. So +then, ten of them in all was caught in the mountains and put in our +keeping....” + +“Hold on,” interrupted the high-school student, imitating the old man, +and feeling his hands turning to ice; “but how was it you told me that +you’d never get to shooting any rebels,--that you’d liefer shoot any +officer who might order you to fire at them?” + +“Well, I wouldn’t let my own father off, when need be,” answered +Pashka, throwing a furtive glance at the student, and again turning +to the old man. “Maybe I’d never have laid a finger on him, even, if +he hadn’t taken it into his head to ruin us all; but no, he went in +for foxiness and we might all have been sentenced to hard labour for +a whole year. But as it turned out, it was all for the best; we got +thanks and turned out to be a bit smarter than him. Just you listen, +now,” he said, pretending that he was addressing the old man only. “We +was leading them along, all fair and square. We didn’t have any of +these carryings on, like beating them, now, for example, or urging +them on with the butt-end of a gun.... But one of them,--a sort of a +skinny fellow, short of stature,--was walking along and complaining +about his stomach all the time, asking us all the while to let him do +something.... He just barely managed to tinkle along in his leg-irons. +Then, at last, he approaches the superior officer: ‘Let me lie down in +the cart.’ Well, he was allowed to do so, like he was real sick. Only +by now we come to the Zukhdens. And the night’s as black as pitch, and +it’s raining cats and dogs. We made ’em sit down on the front entrance, +and watched ’em; each one of the soldiers had a little lantern in his +hands, of course, while the superior officer went off into the room, +to try the bars at the windows to see if they was all right, now, and +hadn’t been filed away by some hidden file.” + +“Absolutely,” said the old man. “According to law he’s got to take over +everything in good shape.” + +“That’s just what I’m talkin’ about,” confirmed Pashka, again hastily +hiding a lit sulphur match in his cupped hands. “You know all this +business, now, and that makes it interestin’ to be telling you about +it. Well, the superior officer had gone off,” he went on, squeezing out +the match and letting the smoke out of his nostrils, “he’d gone off, +inspecting things, while we stand around, nodding our heads,--we wanted +to sleep something dreadful,--when this here Cheorchian suddenly jumps +up, and off ’round the corner with him! That means, you understand, +that he had all this business figured out, while he was still in the +cart; he had cut the strap around his legs that held the shackles, +with the first thing that had come to his hand; had loosened them upon +him, then picked ’em up in his hand, so,--” Pashka bent over and, +spreading his legs, demonstrated how the prisoner had grabbed up the +shackles, “and then had taken to his heels! But me and Koslov was no +fools; we dropped our lanterns and took after him: Koslov ran around +the corner too, whilst I went straight ahead to cut him off. I keep +on running, but all the time I’m trying to catch the clink,--where +his chains might be clanking, that is. It ain’t even worthwhile to be +shootin’ at haphazard, thinks I. At last, I catch the sound,--and bang! +I feel it go past him. I fire another shot,--again I hear it go by +him. But Koslov is popping away right and left; like as not to get me +any minute.... Then I got riled: ‘Ah,’ thinks I, ‘may your eyes bust +out!’ I put the gun to my shoulder and I let’er go: glory be to the +Lord, I got him,--I hear by the sound that he must have fallen down. +I let out two more shots toward the same spot, and ran; and there he +was sitting on his bottom on the ground. He’s sitting down, propped up +with his hands in the dirt; his teeth are bared, and he’s rattlin’: +‘Quick,’ says he, ‘quick, Russ, stick your bayonet into me right +here....’ Meaning his chest, that is. I charged with my bayonet on a +run,--straight through his heart.... Why, the bayonet went right out at +his back!” + +“Good work!” said the old man. “Let’s have just one good puff.... Well, +and where was Koslov at now?” + +Pashka inhaled some smoke, deeply and quickly, and thrust the fag-end +into the old man’s hand. + +“Why, Koslov,” he answered, hurriedly and gaily, flattered by the +praise, “why, Koslov is running, yelling with all his might: ‘Did you +do for him?’ ‘I’ve done for him,’ says I, ‘let’s drag the carcass +away....’ We took him by the shackles at once and dragged him back, to +the porch.... I cut him down like a weed,” said he, changing his tone +to a calmer and more self-satisfied one. + +The old man cogitated for a while. + +“And you say the officer rewarded you with a rouble each?” + +“That’s straight,” answered Pashka. “He gave it to us right out of his +own hands, with all the battalion lined up on parade.” + +The old man, shaking his cap-covered head, spat into his palm and +extinguished the cigarette end in the spittle. + +Ivan, leisurely, through his teeth, drawled out: + +“Well, it’s plain to be seen there’s lots of fools among the soldiers +too.” + +“How do you make that out?” + +“Why, here’s how,” said Ivan, “you durn fool! What should you have +done? You oughtn’t to have dragged him, but should have sent your mate +with a report, and stood guard with a gun over the dead body. D’you +understand now, or don’t you?” + + +III + +Theodot began speaking even more plainly, after a general silence and a +muttering of: “Ye-es ... well done....” + +“Well, now,” he began slowly, lying back on his elbow and casting an +occasional glance at the dark figure of the student, motionlessly stuck +before him against the background of the starry sky; “well, now, I +sinned absolutely over nothing. I killed a man over a mere trifle, you +might say; all on account of a she-goat I had.” + +“What do you mean,--over a she-goat?” the old man, Pashka, and the +school-boy interrupted him in unison. + +“Honest to God, that’s the truth,” answered Theodot. “But you just +listen a while to what sort of bane this she-goat was....” + +The old man and Pashka again lighted cigarettes and began to stamp down +the straw, in preparation to listening. The student, too, wanted to +light up, but his icy hands would not stir, would not come out of his +pockets. As for Theodot, he continued seriously and calmly: + +“The whole trouble was just on account of her. I didn’t do the murder +on purpose, of course.... He was the first to beat me up.... And there +was quarrelling, going to court.... He came, drunk, whilst I jumped +out, all heated up, and hit him with a whet-stone.... But what’s the +sense of talkin’ about it; as it was, I done penance for half a year +at a monastery on account of him; but if there hadn’t been this here +she-goat, nothing at all would have happened. Main thing was, none +of us had ever kept these here goats; they ain’t in the _moujik’s_ +line, and we can’t understand the handling of them; and then, to top +it all, the goat turned out to be a bad one, and frisky. What carrion +she was,--the Lord save me from such another! Just the same as a +little _borzoi_ bitch, she was. Maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to get +her,--everybody was laughing, talking me out of it as it was; but I was +downright forced to it by need. We ain’t got any large, well-managed +farms, nor any sort of free land or forests.... We ain’t had a common +pasture land, of our own from time out of mind, and as to what small +live-stock we might have, it simply has to find forage on the +waste-lands. As for large cattle,--we used to put the cows into the big +owner’s grounds, and for all that sort of thing us little fellers was +supposed to mow, and bind in sheaves, two acres of grain, and plough +two acres of fallow-land; and put in three days with the old woman at +mowing, and three days at threshing.... Count it up,--and what don’t it +come to?” + +“The Lord deliver us!” the old man supported him sympathetically. + +“Whereas to buy a she-goat,” Theodot went on, “well, that meant +scraping off seven, or say eight, roubles to give away for her; on the +other hand, if she tried hard, she’d yield four bottles, no less, of +milk, and the milk she’d give was thicker and sweeter nor cow milk. The +hard part about her was, of course, that you couldn’t keep her together +with the sheep; a she-goat fights with them a lot, when she’s carrying +a kid, and once she starts in she gets fiercer’n a dog,--just can’t +bear to look at them. And what a creature she was for climbing,--it +didn’t mean nothin’ to her to get up on top of a hut, or a clump of +willows. Wherever there was a willow, she was dead sure to strip it +bare, would strip off all its tender bark--there was nothing she liked +better’n that!” + +“But you wanted to tell us how you killed a man,” the school-boy +uttered with difficulty, looking all the while at Pashka, at Pashka’s +face, indistinct in the light of the stars; he was incredulous that +this very Pashka was a murderer, and he was picturing to himself a +small, dead Georgian, whom two soldiers were dragging along by his +chains, through the mud, surrounded by a dark rainy night. + +“Well, and what else was I talking about?” answered Theodot, somewhat +rudely, and began speaking a trifle livelier. “You can’t understand +this business, you ain’t tried yet to live on your own; but to live +at home with mamma is a thing any one can do. That’s just what I was +talking about,--that a sin like that came about through just nothing +at all. I slaughtered three sheep all on account of her,” said he, +addressing the old man. “I took in nine and a half for the sheep, and +paid eight for her. She didn’t cost me cheap, at that.... And for +another thing, I started having rows with my old woman almost every +day. Well, as I was saying, I got a triflin’ sum, gave away eight for +the she-goat; then, too, I bought a thing or two for the household, a +matter here and there, got some little whistles for the youngsters, +and started off for home. I pegged along and pegged along, and came +home toward morning. I look,--and I am shy a half; that meant that I +must have shoved it in my pocket and sown it as I went. The old woman +started counting the money. ‘Where,’ says she, ‘is the half? Did you +swallow it? I told you, you fool, to sell the sheep as carcasses, and +to keep the skins for yourself....’ One word led to another, and then +a row began,--may the Lord save me from such another! My old woman, to +tell the truth, is such a dog as you’d have to look through all the +county to find the like of....” + +“That goes without saying,” Pashka put it in a business-like manner. +“The more you beat ’em, the better they be.” + +“That’s understood,” said Theodot. “Well, she came to her senses and +gave in. And when she had milked the she-goat, she became downright +glad: the goat turned out to be a good milker, and the milk was fine. +So we started in rejoicing. We drove it into the flock. I gave the +little shepherd boys something for tobacco, treated them to a cup of +vodka each.... Otherwise they would train her to butt the sheep in +the belly, the sons of bitches.... Only when the flock comes back at +evening,--I look, and my goat ain’t there. I ask the shepherd: ‘How is +it our she-goat ain’t here?’ ‘Why,’ says he, ‘we drove the herd to the +waste-land near the woods; your goat started playing with the cows, +and tackled the bull; she’d back away from him, get one good running +start, and then let herself fly straight between his eyes! He got so +petered out on account of her that he began hiding from her behind the +cows, and when we’d go for her to chase her off, she’d scoot into the +oats.... She just knocked us off our feet! And then she ran away: the +helper ran after her; he ran all through the forest, couldn’t find her +nowhere,--just like she’d fallen through the earth....’” + +“Well, right you were ’bout that goat being poison!” remarked the old +man. + +“A-a!” said Theodot, malignantly. “Why this ain’t nothin’ at all,--you +just listen to what’s coming! When this same she-goat had disappeared, +me and the old woman plumb lost our heads. Well, now, thinks we, it’s +bye-bye; there goes our good money; she sure will make a mouthful for +some wolf. But, of course, we don’t reckon at all on the fact that it +would be far better if she was to go to all the devils. Soon as day +came we ran for the forest; we left nary a likely place untouched, I +don’t think; we beat up the entire forest to the last twig,--she wasn’t +nowheres, and that’s all there was to it! Gawd knows how I grieved; +however I went to ploughing,--it was just ploughing time then. I took +a bit of bread with me, wrapped up in a kerchief, laying it down near +the edge of the field where I was working. Now, on another mound, there +was one of our village lads ploughing,--suddenly, I hear him shouting +something, pointing with his hand. I look around and just gasp: there +was the she-goat! She had dragged out the little bundle, seizing it in +her teeth; she had shaken it loose and was standing, jerking her beard, +and eating the bread.... I dropped my plough as fast as I could and +went for her. I go after her, and she goes away from me. I go after +her, and she goes away from me,--she’d run a little ways, and stop, +and munch the bread,--a lot she cared! And such a happy and a clever +carcass she was,--she watched every move I made. I had my heart set on +her, I sure wanted to catch her. I just could have smashed her to bits, +it seems! She gobbled down the bread and went off; she’d turn around +and give me a look, shaking her tail,--well, just making fun of me!” + +“No use talking,--it’s a carefree creature!” said the old man. + +“That’s just what I’m saying!” exclaimed Theodot, encouraged by the +sympathy. “That’s just what I’m talking about,--that she downright +ruined us! There hadn’t even a week passed, when everybody had it in +for me: ‘Your goat,’ says they, ‘as good as lives amongst our grain.’ +She trampled down a whole eighth of an acre of my own, tearing down all +the ears of oats. Then one day a thunder-storm came up; the lightning +started in flashing, and the rain poured down,--I looked and I see my +white she-goat sailing along with all her might straight toward our +place, bleating like she was scared out of her own voice--and then she +pops straight into our doorway. I started off as fast as my legs would +carry me after her; I got her into a tight corner, drew a cord that I +used for a belt over her horns, and began letting her have it.... The +thunder rumbles, the lightning flashes, but I keep on lambasting her, +I keep on lambasting her! I must have beat her for more than an hour, +without lying. Then I put her up on the brewing vat, tied her up with +the rope girdle ... but who knows whether the girdle was rotted, or +whether it was something else,--only when we look in the morning, the +goat’s gone again! Then--would you believe it?--I was so vexed, that I +just burst into tears!” + + +IV + +Theodot’s tone had become so simple, so sincere, so filled with +the tones of husbandry aggrieved, that it would never have entered +anybody’s head that here was a murderer, confessing his sin. Then, too, +he was listened to in a spirit of simplicity. Kiriushka was lying flat +on his belly, his head covered with his great coat; his feet, in big +bast sandals and thickly wrapped in foot cloths, were sticking out. +Ivan, with his cap shoved down over his forehead, his hands tucked +into his sleeves, was lying on his side, also without moving; as for +his stern and serious silence, he maintained it because he deemed +it beneath his dignity to be interested in fools. He was so little +concerned, whether those before him were murderers or not, that he had +even called out once: + +“Time to sleep! Finish that gabbing to-morrow!” + +As for Pashka and the old man, both half-reclining and biting little +straws, they merely shook their heads and grinned occasionally, as if +to say: “Well, Theodot sure has known his fill of trouble with that +she-goat!” And Theodot, evidently deeming himself already vindicated +by this sympathy for his ridiculous and hard situation, lost entirely +his diffidence about digressions. And the high-school boy, gritting +his teeth both from the wind and from the inner cold, would at times +look about him wildly: Where was he, and what queer night was this? But +it was still the same simple, familiar country night, of which there +had been many. The field was dark, the corn-kiln stood out in a sharp +triangle against the starry sky; through the underbrush, beyond which +the stars flared up and fell, a wind was blowing; its cool breath, with +the pleasant scent of the chaff, reached the face and hands, rustled in +the straw, and again grew still, dying away.... The hounds--white balls +sunk in the straw--were fast asleep.... And all the horror lay only +in that it was late, that a small cluster of silver stars had risen +high in the north-east, that the dark mass of the slumbrous garden was +murmuring in the distance, dully, autumn-wise; that the eyes in the +faces of those conversing were sparkling in the starlight. + +“Yes, little brother of mine,” Theodot was saying, laughing over his +own ridiculous and sad predicament, “nobody can’t say it weren’t a +misfortune! At last they tell me, now, that a _moujik_ in the Prilepakh +had driven my she-goat to his place. I start out to get her back; no +help for it,--such seemed to be my lot. I come to the village; there’s +nobody around, wherever I look,--everybody’s out in the fields. A +lad is riding off for water; I ask him,--‘Where’s Bockhov’s house?’ +‘Why,’ says he ‘right there, where the old woman in the red petticoat +is sitting under a bush.’ I walk up: ‘Is this Bochkov’s place?’ The old +woman waves her hand at me, pointing to a little yard in the blazing +sun....” + +“Must have gone daft from old age,” put in Pashka, starting to laugh +so pleasantly that the student looked around at him with amazement and +fear, reflecting: “Why no,--it can’t be true; he must have told lies +about himself!” + +“She was gone daft,” confirmed Theodot. “Just kept on waving her hand. +But I had already been hearing a hog grunting in the little yard. I +open the door to a sty, a corner fenced off with plaited willow, where +this same pig was kept. I see a big sow pulling a woman around; the +woman’s thrown her weight upon it, holding it with both hands, pouring +out of a pail upon it with the other. And the sow is all black from +mud, lugging the woman, dragging her along,--the woman can’t manage her +nohow, and her clothes is pulled up to her belly. It was both to sin +and to grin! Soon as she saw me, she pulls down her skirt,--her legs, +her hands was all in manure.... ‘What d’you want?’ ‘What do I want? I’m +here on business. You drove my she-goat up here; you’re keeping strayed +cattle, but ain’t giving out no notice of it.’ ‘We ain’t keeping any +she-goat of yours,’ says she. ‘We let her go. We drove her into the +owner’s place.’ And she laughs at something. ‘So-o,’ thinks I, ‘that +means I’m in hot water again: well, just you wait!’ I went out and kept +on; I had just gone past the next farm, had turned up a path through +some flax, when a red-haired little fellow bobs up from somewheres +right in my way. ‘Did you come for the goat?’ ‘For the goat,--but why?’ +Suddenly I hear a woman yelling beyond the hut: ‘Where you gone to, +Kuzka, damn your eyes!’ ‘Run quick,’ I says, ‘here’s your mother comin’ +with some stinging nettles.’ And there she was, right on the spot; she +sees him and runs: ‘Didn’t I tell you to look after the little one? But +where did you go off to, you so-and-so?’ And then she pounces on me! +‘Where you from?’ ‘And what business of yours may that be now?’ ‘Oh, +no, you tell me where you’re from!’ ‘I’m the man in the moon. What are +you yelling about? I’m looking for my she-goat.’ ‘Oh, so it’s you, is +it, damn your eyes, that don’t give any peace to the village with your +goat!’ And suddenly I see a tall _moujik_ rushing toward me from the +corn kiln,--without a cap, beltless, in boots. He ran on me at full +speed. ‘Your goat?’ ‘Mine....’ He unwraps himself, swings back, and +lets fly one in my ear.” + +“Good work!” exclaimed the old man and Pashka in the same breath; as +for the school-boy, he even let out a little squeal: this, then, was +the most horrible part of all! But Theodot calmly pulled out the skirt +of his short coat from under him, and calmly continued: + +“Oh, yes, he warmed me up so that my head just begun to hum. I grab him +by his hands, and ask him, what that was for? And by now people was +running up.... Right in front of everybody, I ask them to be witnesses +of this here matter; again I ask what it was my goat had gone and done? +It turns out that she had knocked a child off its feet, had broken its +head, making it bleed; had chewn up a shirt, and had trampled some +rye. Very well,--complain to the court about it; there I’ll be called +to account and you won’t be let off either. ‘Now,’ says I, ‘you ain’t +a-goin’ to get a durn thing off me!’ I put on my cap and went as fast +as I could to the owner’s yard. I grew a trifle cheerier: the goat, +thinks I, won’t get away from me now; and you can’t sue me now,--you +should have waited before you started in fighting with me. I draw near +and I see, on a pony with a clipped tail, a lad in a satin cap, his +legs and arms bare,--a jockey, they calls it. The horse is playful, +and he flicks it with a little whip. ‘How do you do, now; allow me to +ask,--has your grace got my she-goat?’ ‘And who may you be?’ ‘I’m the +owner of that there goat.’ ‘Well, now, my daddy ordered it to be driven +in.’ Things are going along fine; I go on farther and meet a beggar, +from whom I lay in some bread,--for the hounds in the owner’s yard are +pretty big. I enter the yard and see a four-horse carriage standing +on the gravelled drive near the house,--the horses are well-fed, +spirited. There’s a flunky at the grand entrance, his beard parted in +two. A grown-up young lady walks out in a hat trimmed with ribbons, +her face all covered up with muslin. ‘Dasha!’ she yells to the maid in +the house, ‘ask the master to come as soon as possible. He’s at the +riding-ground.’ I start for the riding-ground. There I see the owner +himself standing, in a uniform frock with a green collar; he wears a +medal and carries his cap in his hand; his bald head simply blazes in +the sun, his belly is all in creases, and he’s all red himself. And +there’s a little lad perched up on the roof, his arm plunged in under +the roofing, looking for something,--must be for starlings, thinks I to +myself. But no,--he was taken up with sparrows. The owner looks on, +yelling: ‘Catch them, catch, them, the sons of bitches!’ And the little +boy catches the young sparrows, pulls them out, and knocks them against +the ground. The owner catches sight of me: ‘What do you want?’ ‘Why, +now,’ says I, ‘your gardener caught my she-goat at the strawberries. +Allow me to take her away, so’s I may kill her.’ ‘This isn’t the first +time, now,’ says he, ‘I shall fine you two roubles.’ ‘I agree with +you,’ I says, ‘I’m at fault, and I admit it. What hard luck!’ I says, +‘I always have two wenches watching it; but yesterday, as though for +spite,--the deuce knows whether they ate too many raw mushrooms, or +what it was,--they was rolling around, spewing up; and as for my wife, +she also didn’t watch out, to tell the truth,--she was lying in the +barn, yelling with all her might,--her hand had all swollen up....’ +A man’s got to excuse himself somehow. I tell him all about what a +baneful creature my she-goat is, how I was given one in the ear for +her,--he laughs and grows good-natured. ‘No matter how I chase her,’ +says I, ‘I can’t catch her nohow; and I so wanted to ask your grace for +a little gunpowder and to borrow a gun from the truck gardener, so’s to +shoot her with it. Well, of course, he softened a lot, allowed me to +take her, and I done for her on the spot.” + +“You done for her?” asked the old man. + +“Absolutely,” said Theodot. “‘Well, take it,’ says he, ‘only watch +out, don’t mix it up with mine.’ ‘That won’t happen, nohow,’ says I, +‘I’d know her amongst a thousand.’ We went out to the fold, taking +Pakhomka the shepherd along with us. I give one look,--and at once +notice her behind the sheep; she was standing, looking at me sharply +for some reason, eyeing me askance. Me and Pakhomka got the sheep +into a corner as tight as we could, and I began to walk up to her. I +make two steps,--she gives one jump over a ram! And again she stands, +looking. Again I start for her.... And then, she points her head with +its horns toward the ground and makes one dash for the sheep, and they +all just rush away from her,--they parted like water! Then I got mad. +Says I to Pakhomka: ‘You just drive her up as easy as you can, the +whilst I climb up on the shed, where it’s darker, and grab her by the +horns.’ And it’s awful how much manure there was in that yard, right up +to the very sheds in some places. I climbed up on the shed, laid down, +grabbed a beam as hard as I could, whilst Pakhomka kept on scaring her +on toward me. I waited and waited, until finally she came under the +very shed,--and then I made a grab for her horns! And then she starts +in bleating. I even got scared! I fall off the shed; I dig my feet in, +holding on to the horns, while she dashes with me all over the yard, +drags me up to a pit; then she squirms out, scraping me with her horn +over the beard, over the nose,--till everything turned black.... When +I look up, she’s already up on the roof: she’d jumped up on the pile +of manure, from the manure on to the roof, from the roof into the tall +grass.... We could hear the dogs getting noisy in the yard; the other +dogs picked it up, raising a racket in the village. We, of course, +jumped out after her. But she’s flying along with all her might, and +straight for the last hut: there was a new hut being built there; the +windows was still boarded up and there was no entry yet, while there +was just bare poles laid aslant for the roof. So she clambered up them +up to the very ridge--a power like a whirlwind must have carried her up +there! We ran up as fast as we could; as for her, she must have felt +her death coming,--she was bleating for all she was worth, all scared. +I picked up a hefty brick, took aim,--and caught her so neat that she +just jumped up in the air, and then started with a swish down the roof! +We ran up, but she was just lying there, her tongue jerking in the +dust.... She’d take a breath and then rattle, take a breath and rattle +again,--till the dust rose up near her nose. And her tongue was long, +just like a snake.... Well, of course, after half an hour or so, she +had croaked.” + + +V + +There was a silence. Theodot raised himself up to a sitting posture, +and, bending down, spreading his hands, began slowly to unwind the +cords with which his old, constantly falling foot-cloths were tied +up. And a minute later the school-boy with horror and repulsion saw +that which he had seen so many times before with perfect calmness: a +_moujik’s_ bare foot, dead-white, enormous, flat, with a monstrously +grown great toe lying crookedly on top of the others, and the thin, +hairy skin, which Theodot, having unwound and dropped the foot-cloth, +began to scratch hard in a delectable fury, tearing it with his nails, +as strong as those of a beast. Having scratched his fill and wriggled +his toes, he took the foot-cloth with both hands,--it was hardened, +bent, and blackened at the heel and sole, just as though it had been +rubbed with black wax,--and shook it out, spreading an unbearable +stench upon the fresh breeze. “Yes, murder means nothing to him!” +reflected the student, shivering. “That is the foot of a real murderer! +How horribly he killed this beautiful she-goat! And the man that he +killed with a whet-stone ... he must have been sharpening a scythe ... +and must have struck him straight in the temple, killing him on the +stop.... But Pashka! ... Pashka! ... How could he tell about it so +gaily and with such enjoyment, too! ‘It came right out at his back!’” + +Suddenly, without raising his head, Ivan began speaking morosely: + +“Fools are beaten even at the altar. Why, Postnii, it wouldn’t be +half-enough to beat you to death for this here she-goat. What did +you go and kill her for? You should have sold it. What sort of a +husbandman do you call yourself after that, you durn ninny, when you +don’t understand that a _moujik_ can’t get along without live-stock? It +should be valued. If I only had a she-goat, now....” + +He didn’t finish his sentence, was silent for a while, then suddenly +grinned. + +“There was an affair in Stanova, now; well that really was +something.... It wasn’t worse than your goat, now; a land-owner by the +name of Mussin was keeping a wild bull. This bull just wouldn’t let +anybody pass; he gored two young cowherds to death. They’d fasten him +up with a chain, but still he’d tear loose and go off. Just the very +same way, too, like your goat, he’d trample the peasants’ grain; but +no one dared to chase him off: they were afraid, and would walk a mile +around him. Well, of course, they sawed off his horns, gelded him.... +He quieted down a bit. Only the _moujiks_ scored up everything against +him. When these here riots began, here’s what they did: they caught +him in the field, tied him up with ropes, threw him off his feet.... +They didn’t beat him at all, but just took and stripped him to the last +hair. So, all bare, he dashed into the owner’s yard,--he ran in at full +speed, fell all in a heap, and died right on the spot,--losing all his +blood.” + +“How?” asked the school-boy; “they took his hide off? While he was +alive?” + +“No, while he was cooked,” mumbled Ivan. “Oh you Moscow city feller!” + +Everybody started laughing; while Pashka, laughing more than all of +them, quickly picked up the conversation. + +“Well, there’s a lot of murderers for you! And you was saying, just +like that, that we ought to be treated kindly. No brother, guess you +can’t get along here without us marching soldiers! When after the +Seniyaks we was stationed at Kursk, now, we was also restoring order +in a certain settlement. The _moujiks_ had gotten it into their head +to ruinate an owner.... And the owner, they do say, was a good sort, +at that.... Well, the whole settlement went for him, and, naturally, +the women tagged along. The watchmen came out to meet the villagers. +The peasants went for them with stakes and scythes. The guards fired +one volley, and then, of course, took to their heels: what the devil +sort of strength can you expect from those dunderheads!--but one bullet +did get a baby in a woman’s arms. The woman was left alive, but he, +of course, didn’t even let out a squeak,--just gave one jerk with +his little legs. So, good Lord!” said Pashka, tossing his head from +laughter and seating himself more comfortably, “what only didn’t the +_moujiks_ do! They broke everything to smash and smithereens; chased +this same owner into a corner, trampling him down, while this _moujik_, +the father of this here child, ran up to that very spot with this same +baby; he was all gasping and crazed from grief, and he starts in to +beat the owner over his head with this dead baby! Grabbed him by the +little legs and starts in lambasting the owner. And then the others +fall upon him, and, of course, all for one and one for all, they +finished him. We were rushed up, but he was already beginning to rot +when we got there.” + +“Well, what are you laughing about, you fool!” the school-boy wanted to +cry out, suddenly feeling a ferocious hatred for Pashka’s laughter, for +Pashka’s voice. But here Kiriushka suddenly stirred, and, raising his +head, said with childish naïveness: + +“But that which took place when Kochergin the land-owner was bein’ +wrecked,--_that_ was something awful! I was then living with him as +one of his shepherds.... So all their mirrors was thrown into the +pond.... Afterwards, people from the village would come over for a +swim, and would always be pulling them out of the slime.... You’d dive, +stand up,--and then your foot would just slide over a mirror.... And +this, now ... how do you call it ... fortopianner was dragged into +the rye.... We used to come ...” Kiriushka raised himself up, and, +laughing, leant back on his elbows; “we would come and there it would +be standing.... You’d take a club, and start banging upon it,--upon its +keys, that is.... From one end to the other.... Why, it would play +better nor any accordeon!” + +Everybody laughed once more. Theodot had adjusted his foot-gear, had +again criss-crossed his foot-cloths accurately with the cords, and, +having set himself to rights, had resumed his former position. And, +having waited for a moment of silence, he began to finish his story in +measured tones: + +“Yes, he gave me one on the ear, and yet put in a suit as well.... For +all these, now, losses and damages, for the forage, that is. He was +called Andrei Bogdanov,--Andrei Ivannov Bogdanov. A tall _moujik_, +he was,--red-faced, thin, always evil-tempered, always drunk. Well, +now, so he started a suit. It was he that had warmed my ear, and he +it was that was suing me to boot. Here the busiest time of the year +came along, with nary a breathing space; but I’ve got to be hiking off +fifteen miles away.... I guess that’s just what the Lord must have +punished him for....” + +As he gazed at the straw, stifling his cough and wiping his flat lips +with the palm of his hand, Theodot’s speech was becoming more and more +sombre, more and more expressive. Having said “The Lord must have +punished him,” he was silent for a while, and then went on: + +“The suit, of course, came to nothing. A peace was patched up between +us. We was both at fault, that is. But only he wasn’t content with +that. He made up with me, but right after he walked away, drank till +he was blind-drunk, started threatening to kill me. He yells before +everybody: ‘Wait,’ says he, ‘wait, I ain’t drunk yet, now; but when +I’ve drunk enough I’ll settle your hash.’ I wanted to get away from the +mixup,--it made me feel sick in the stomach.... Then he took to coming +to our village: he’d come under my windows, drunk as drunk could be, +and would start in to curse me out, saying things about my mother. And +I have a grown-up daughter....” + +“That weren’t right,” sympathetically grunted out the old man, and +yawned. + +“Oh, it was a grand story!” said Theodot. “Well, now, so he comes on an +evening before the Kiriki. I hear him making a hubbub in the street. +I got up, without saying a word, went out into the yard, sat down on +a harrow, and started sharpening a scythe. But I was taken with such +a rage that I saw red before my eyes. Then I hear him walking up to +the hut, raising a rumpus. Must be wanting to break the panes, thinks +I to myself. But no; he just made a lot of noise and was already +going somewhere else. That would have been the end of it perhaps,--if +only Ollka, my daughter, hadn’t jumped out ... And then she starts in +yelling, with a voice not her own: ‘Help, father, Andrushka is beating +me!’ I dashed out with the scythe whet-stone in my hand,--and, all in +a passion, hit him once right over his head! He just hit the ground. +Folks ran up, started dousing him with water ... but he lies there, and +by now he’s only hiccoughing.... Maybe something might have been done +then.... Like putting a cold pack on him, or something like that.... He +ought to have been carried off to a hospital as fast as possible, and a +tenner should have been handed to the doctor.... But where was a tenner +to be gotten? Well, so he hiccoughed and he hiccoughed, and he passed +away toward night. He threshed about and threshed about; then turned +over on his back, stretched himself out, and there he was, all ready. +And the folks were standing around, looking, all silent. And the lights +was already lit by that time.” + +All atremble with a quick shivering, his face flaming, the high-school +student got up, and, sinking in the straw up to his waist, started +climbing down the stack. A _borzoi_ bitch, frightened by him, suddenly +jumped up and gave a jerky bark. The student drew back sharply, falling +into the straw, and stood stock still. The chill wind was rustling; +a cluster of chill autumn stars showed white above his very head, +while from beyond the hillock of rustling straw came the measured, +low-pitched voice of Theodot. + +“I sat in the barn for two days under guard, and saw the whole thing +through a little window.... How they cut him up, that is. The people +flocked in from all the villages, to have a look at this murdered +man,--and me too, for that matter. They used to shove their way right +up to the very barn. Two benches was carried out on the common, placed +right near the barn, and the murdered man put upon them. A log of wood +was put under his head; chairs and a table were brought out for the +coroner and the sawbones. The sawbones walks up to him; he tears off +his shirt, tears off his drawers,--and I see a corpse lying all naked, +already stiff; yellow here and green there, while his face was all like +wax; the red beard had become thin, and simply stood out. The sawbones +put a burdock over you know what place. Right at hand, as usual, there +was a box with all sorts of contraptions. The sawbones walks up, parts +his hair from ear to ear, makes a cut, and begins to take off the scalp +together with the hair, in halves. Where it was thin, he scraped with +a little knife. He tore away a half to either side,--soon as he gets +one piece off, he pulls it down over the eye. The whole skull became +visible,--like some kind of a little pot, it was.... And there’s a +black spot on it, near the right ear,--black clotted blood; where the +blow had come, that is. The sawbones says something to the coroner, +and the coroner writes: ‘Three cracks on such and such parts.’ Then +the sawbones starts in sawing through the skull all around. The saw +don’t work, so he takes a little hammer and a small chisel, see, and +goes over the marks that he’d made with the saw, breaking through with +the little chisel. And the top of the skull just fell away, like a +cup,--the brain was all plain to be seen....” + +“What don’t they do, the murdering cut-throats!” hoarsely remarked the +old man, who had just dozed off. + +But Theodot was firmly finishing his say: + +“Then he took out a heavy knife, and starts cutting the chest, right +through the gristle. He hacks out a three cornered piece, and starts +pulling it away,--it even started cracking.... All the stomach came to +view, and the blue lungs, and all the innards....” + +Deafened by the beating of his own heart, the student got up on his +feet, standing up to the full of his great height,--in his cap, shoved +back on the nape of his neck, in his light uniform overcoat, which +was already too short for him. Gray, huge, dreadful in his Mongolian +calmness, Theodot was speaking in measured tones, his pipe gripped +between his teeth; but the student was no longer listening to him. With +all his eyes he was looking at all these men--so familiar and yet so +unknown, so incomprehensible,--who had made his whole soul so sick on +this night. Pitiful in his vice and his meekness, in all his pastoral +primitiveness, Kiriushka was sleeping, covered with his great coat, +one thick leg, swathed in white foot-cloths, and twisted at the knee, +sticking out from underneath it. Ivan, too, was sleeping; Ivan of the +morose, disdainful face, whose mother, a horrible, black old woman, had +been dying for three years now, in his black mud hut, standing near the +ditches at the edge of the bare village, in the darkness and the dirt, +underneath the low ceiling, underneath the low roof of sods, and yet +cannot in anyway die, to her grief; while his buck-toothed thin wife +feeds at her dark-yellow, hanging dry breast a bare-bellied, clear-eyed +child, with its nose running, and its lips bitten into blood by the +countless flies in the hut. The happy Pashka was sleeping his heavy, +healthy sleep in the fresh wind, in his soldier’s cap, heavy boots, +and his new short coat. As for Khomut, the old man, who has not got +even a short coat (he has only a long coat, frayed and with a large +hole through the shoulder), whose drawers always hung so low upon his +flabby thighs,--he was sitting with his back to the wind, bare-headed, +stripped to the waist. He, senilely emaciated, yellow of body, with +his shoulders elevated at a slant, with his twisted prominent backbone +glistening in the light of the stars, was sitting with his big tousled +head, ruffled by the fresh wind, bowed down, bending his neck which was +already scrawny and all in coarse wrinkles. He was intently examining +the shirt he had taken off, and, as he listened to Theodot, he would at +times squeeze its collar band between his thumb-nails. + +The student jumped down upon the hard and smooth autumnal earth, and, +stooping, quickly walked toward the dark, murmurous garden, toward home. + +All three dogs also arose, and, showing dimly white, started running +sideways after him, with their tails curled tightly. + +_1911._ + + + + +A GOODLY LIFE + + +My life has been a well-spent one; I got everything I went after. I +even own real property,--my little old man right after the wedding +signed the house over in my name; and I keep horses, and two cows, and +we have a business all our own. Of course, not a regular shop, now, but +just a little store, as they say,--but then, in our village, it will +pass. I always was successful, but then I have a persistent character, +at that. + +As to all sorts of work, it was still my daddy that learned me. Though +he was a widower, and took to drink, he wasn’t far behind me in being +awful smart, business-like, and heartless. When the serfs was freed, +now, he up and says to me: + +“Well, wench, I’m my own master now; let’s save up some money. As soon +as we save it up, we’ll go to the city, buy a house all to our own +selves; I’ll marry you off to a fine gentleman, and live like a king. +As for our masters, it’s no use sticking here with them,--they ain’t +worth it.” + +Our masters, now,--although, to tell the truth, they were good and +kind,--was the poorest of the poor; actual beggars, you might say. And +so we went away from them to another settlement; as for the house, the +cattle, and whatever household goods we had, we sold them. We moved +right near to the city, and hired a cabbage patch from a lady by the +name of Meshcherina. She had been a _fräulein_ in the Tsar’s court; she +was plain, freckled, and had grown gray as a maid,--nobody would take +her to wife, so she lived in retirement. So, then, we hired the meadows +from her, and settled down in our little hut, all peaceful and quiet. +The weather’s chill; fall is coming on,--but little we care! We sit +and wait for good profits and never feel trouble coming along. But the +trouble was right there,--and what trouble, at that! Our venture was +drawing near the winding up, when suddenly something terrible happens. +We had had our tea in the morning,--it was a holiday,--so I stood, +just so, near the hut, watching the folks coming from church over the +meadow. As for my daddy, he had gone to see about the cabbages. It was +a sort of a bright day, even though it was windy, and so I was gaping +and didn’t notice that there was two men approaching me. One was the +priest,--so tall, you know, in a gray cassock and carrying a stick; his +face was dark, earthy; he’s got a mane like any fine horse, just simply +spreading out in the wind. The other was just a common peasant,--his +farm hand. They walked right up to the hut; I got confused, made him a +bow, and says: + +“How do you do, Father? Thanks for thinking of us and calling.” + +But he, I see, is angry, sullen, doesn’t even look at me; he just +stands and breaks up clods with his stock. + +“And where,” says he, “is your father?” + +“They’ve gone to the cabbage field,” says I. “If you like, now, I can +call them. But there he’s coming, himself.” + +“Well, you just tell him to take away whatever goods he’s got, +together with this dinky little samovar, and get away from here. My +watchman is coming here to-day.” + +“What do you mean, a watchman? Why, we have already given the lady the +money, ninety roubles it was. What do you mean, Father?” (Though I was +young, I knew just what was what in such things.) “Are you joking, or +something?” I says. “You ought to produce some proper paper,” I says. + +“No talk out of you!” he yells. “The owner is going to live in the +city; I’ve bought the meadows from her, and now the land is my own +property!” + +But he, himself, waves his arms about, knocks his stick against the +ground,--like as not to hit you in the snout any minute. + +Father sees these goings-on, and starts running toward us,--he was +awful hot-headed. He runs up and asks: + +“What’s all this noise about? What are you yelling at her for, Father, +without knowing yourself what’s what? You oughtn’t to be shaking your +stick, but ought to come right out and explain by what sort of right +the cabbages have come to be yours? We are poor folks, now, we can go +to court about it. You,” he says, “are a person in holy orders; you +can’t hold no enmity against nobody; your kind can’t touch the holy +sacrament if you do.” + +Father, you understand, hadn’t said as much as one saucy word to him; +but the other, though he was a pastor, was as wicked as the most +ordinary drab _moujik_; and so, when he heard that kind of talk, he +just grew pale,--not a word could he say, but you could just see his +legs quivering under his cassock. And then, don’t he let out a squeal, +and don’t he go for father,--to hit him over the head, you understand! +But father got from under it, grabbed the stick, tore it out of the +priest’s hands, and then went smash! over his knee with it. The other +tried to grapple with him, but father breaks it in halves, flings the +pieces away as far as he can and calls out: + +“Don’t come near me, for God’s sake, your reverence! You,” he calls +out, “are black and like a beetle, but I am still more of a beetle than +you be.” + +And then he grabs him by the arms! + +What with courts and law, father was sent to a convict colony for this +here thing. I was left all alone in this world, and thinks I, what am +I to do now? Plainly, you can’t get through the world on righteousness +alone; plainly, you must needs keep your eyes open. I figured it out a +whole year, living with my aunt; then I saw there was nowhere for me to +go,--I had to marry fast as I could. My dad had a good friend in town, +a harness maker,--well, him it was that courted me. You couldn’t say +as how he made a striking bridegroom,--but still he was a good catch, +at that. There was, to tell the truth, one man that I liked,--and +liked right well; but then he was poor too, about as bad off as I was, +also living with strangers, like me; but the other was his own master, +after all. I didn’t have a copper of dowry, and here, I see, he is +taking me without anything,--how could I let a chance like that pass +by? I thought, and I thought, and went and married him,--although, of +course, I knew that he was an elderly man, and a drunkard, and always +excitable; a cut-throat, to put it plainer.... I married him and +became, you understand, not an ordinary wench any more, but Nastasiya +Semenovna Zhokhova, a citizen’s wife, living in a city.... Of course, +it seemed flattering. + +I suffered for nine years with this husband. That citizen business +was just a name; we was so poor really that we was about as bad off +as the _moujiks_! And then there was scrapping and rows every blessed +day. Well, the Lord took pity on me, and took him away. The children I +had by him all used to die on me; there was only two boys left,--one +was Vanniya, going on nine; the other was an infant in arms. He was +an awful lively and healthy boy; about ten months he started in to +walk, to talk; all of my children, now, used to begin walking and +talking about the eleventh month. He got to drinking tea all by his own +self,--used to sink his little face in the saucer so’s you couldn’t +pull it away, nohow. But this boy died, too, when he weren’t a year +yet. I come home one day from washing clothes in the river, and my +sister-in-law,--we used to rent our rooms off her,--up and says: + +“Your Kostiya was yelling and squirming all day to-day. I done all +sorts of things to him already; I worked his arms and I patted him +hard, and I gave him some sugar and water; but all he does is gag, +and throw up the water through his nose. Either he’s gone and caught +a cold, or else he’s ate something; for the children always put +everything in their mouth,--how is a body to look after them?” + +I was just scared stiff. I make a dash for the cradle and throw back +the curtain, but he was already beginning to pass away then; couldn’t +even as much as cry out. My sister ran to get a doctor’s assistant we +knew; when he comes, he asks: “What did you feed him with?” + +“He’s eaten some manna porridge, now, and that was all.” + +“And wasn’t he playing with something?” + +“That’s right, he was,” says my sister. “There was a copper ring from +a horse-collar knocking about all the time,--well, he was playing with +that.” + +“Well,” says the doctor’s assistant, “he must have swallowed it, +for sure. May your arms wither!” says he. “You’ve gone and done it +now,--why, he’s going to die on your hands!” + +Of course, it turned out just like he said. Not even two hours had gone +when he passed away. We took on and we took on, but there was nothing +as could be done about it; for it’s no use going against the will of +God. So I buried him too; only Vanniya was left. Only he was left; but +then, as they say, one is enough. A small creature, it’s true, and +yet he’ll eat and drink as much as a grown-up. So I started scrubbing +floors at the home of Nikulin,--a colonel in the army, he was. Him and +his wife was rather well off; they paid thirty roubles a month for the +rooms they had. They lived in the upper floor; the kitchen was below. +The woman they had to get up their meals was a no-account little old +woman; she wasn’t responsible, and yet she was loose. Well, naturally, +she got in the family way. Couldn’t bend down to scrub the floors, +couldn’t pull a pot out the oven.... She went away when her time came, +and I just grabbed her place: that’s how I had gotten around the +masters! To tell the truth, I’ve been clever and cunning from a girl +up; no matter what I took a hold of, I’d do it neat, accurate, better +nor any waiter. Again, I knew how to please them: no matter what the +masters would say, I’d just say “Yes, sir,” or “Yes, ma’am,” all the +time, and “You are absolutely right....” I used to get up when you +could still see the moon. I’d mop up the floors, make the stove, polish +up the samovar,--in the meanwhile the masters would wake up, but I had +everything ready. And then, of course, I always kept myself clean, and +was well-built,--I was spare, but still I was handsome. There was times +when I’d even get to feeling sorry for myself: what were my beauty and +my knowledge going to waste for, now, in such hard work? + +Thinks I, I ought to take advantage of the opportunity. And the +opportunity was, that the colonel was awful strong himself and +couldn’t bear to look at me calmly. His wife, now, was a German,--fat, +ailing, and some ten years older than he. He weren’t good-looking; +heavy-bodied, short-legged, looking like a wild pig,--and she was +still worse. Well, I see he’s started to pay court to me, to sit in my +kitchen, to teach me smoking. Soon as his wife went out, he was right +there on the spot. He’d chase his orderly into town, as though on some +errand, and be sitting there. He bored me to death, but, of course, I +pretended otherwise: I’d laugh, and I’d sit and swing my leg,--getting +him heated up in all sorts of ways, that is.... What can you do when +there’s poverty; and, as they say, this little was as good as a feast. +Somehow one day, on the Tsar’s birthday, he comes down to the kitchen +in his uniform frock, in epaulettes, belted with that white belt of +his like with a hoop, with kid gloves in his hands. He’s buttoned his +collar so tight that his neck is all swollen and he’s all blue in the +face; he’s all perfumed,--his eyes shining, his moustache black and +thick.... He comes down and says: + +“I’m going to the cathedral with the missus right away; dust off my +boots,--I’ve only gone through the yard and yet I managed to get all +dusty.” + +He put his foot in its patent-leather boot upon a bench,--just like a +big iron pillar, his leg was; I bent down, wanting to wipe it off, but +he grabs me by the neck, even tearing my kerchief off; then he grabbed +me tight about the bosom and was already dragging me behind the stove. +I try this way and that,--can’t get away from him nohow. And he is hot +all over, just swelling up with blood,--trying to overpower me, that +is; to get at my face and kiss me. + +“What are you doing!” I says. “The mistress is coming,--go away, for +the love of Christ!” + +“If you will get to love me,” he says, “I won’t begrudge you anything!” + +“Oh yes, now, we know all about those promises!” + +“May I never leave this spot,--may I die without absolution!” + +Well, of course, there was more of the same sort of thing. But, to +tell the honest truth, what did I know at that time? I could have +very easily been taken in by his words; but, glory be to God, things +didn’t turn out his way. Somehow he caught hold of me another time, +at an unlucky moment. I broke away, all mussed up, and got mortal +angry,--and there was the mistress, now; she was coming down, dressed +up, all yellow, fat, like a dead person, groaning, her dress rustling +on the stairs. I break away, and stand there without my kerchief,--and +there she is, heading straight for us. He goes past her and shows his +heels, but I stand there like a fool, not knowing what to do. She stood +opposite me, and she stood some more, holding the silk skirt of her +dress,--I remember like it was to-day: she was going out visiting, and +had on a brown silk dress, and white mittens without fingers, and she +carried a parasol, and wore a hat like a basket. She stood for a while, +let out a groan, and went out. To tell the truth, though, she never +said a word to him or to me. But when the colonel went away to Kiev, +she just took and drove me out. + +So I got all my little belongings together and went back to my +sister,--Vanniya was living at her house, you understand. I went away +from this place, and again I figure: my brains are just going for +nothing; I can’t save up anything, nor make a decent match and have +a business of my own,--God has wronged me! I’ll get in harness once +again, thinks I, turn about somehow, and I _will_ get what I’m after, +and _will_ have a capital of my own, or die trying! So I thought it all +out, apprenticed Vanniya to a tailor, and then got a place for myself +as maid with Samokhvalov the merchant.... And that was the beginning of +my rise. + +They gave me a wage of two and a quarter. There was two servants,--me, +and a girl by the name of Vera. One day I wait at table, and she washes +the dishes; the next day I wash the dishes, and she waits at table. You +couldn’t call it a large family: there was the master, Matvei Ivannich; +the mistress, Liubov Ivanna; two grown-up daughters; and two sons. The +master himself was a serious-minded man, not much given to talking,--he +was never even at home on week-days, and whenever there was a holiday, +he’d be sitting upstairs in his room, reading all sorts of newspapers +and smoking a cigar. As for the mistress, she was a simple soul, +kind, and, like myself, from the middle classes. They wasn’t long in +marrying off their daughters, Anna and Klasha, and held two weddings in +one year,--married them off to military men. Right there, to tell the +truth, is where I begun to save up,--for the military men did give me +a great deal in tips. If you just did anything, even a trifle,--like +handing them the matches, say, or their overcoats and rubbers,--right +off you’d have twenty kopecks, or thirty.... But then I used to go +about awful neat, and I pleased the military. Vera, to tell the truth, +was always putting on some airs, like some miss or something; she took +short, mincing steps, was tender and awful easy hurt,--the minute +anything would happen, she’d knit her downy eye-brows, her lips, +like cherries, would start to quiver, and there was the tears in her +eye-lashes. True, she did have pretty eye-lashes, great big ones, I +never saw anybody else with anything like them. But then, I was wiser. +I used to put on a smooth waist, cut on a bias, with open-work; I’d +put a switch on my head with a black velvet bow, and I wore a starched +white apron,--it would interest anybody just to look at me. Vera, she +always used to lace herself tight in corsets; she’d lace herself so +tight she couldn’t stand it, and at once her head would start aching +till she’d throw up,--but I never even had no use for a corset, and was +all right as I was.... And when the military men were gone, the sons +started in tipping me. + +The elder had already reached twenty when I took the place, and the +younger was going on fourteen. This boy had to sit all the while, poor +fellow. He had broken all his legs and arms,--I seen that business many +a time. When he’d break something, the doctor would come to him right +away, bandage it up with cotton, lint, and all that sort of thing; +then he’d pour something over it like lime; this same lime would dry up +together with the lint, would become like a splint; and when the hurt +part was healed up, the doctor would just cut all that stuff, taking it +all off,--and the arm, when you’d look at it, was all grown together. +He couldn’t walk by himself, but crawled around on his bottom. He used +to simply dash upon sofas, and over thresholds, and up the stairs. He +even used to crawl across the whole yard into the garden. He had a +great big head, clumsy looking, like his father’s; his temples coarse, +red-haired, like a dog’s wool; he had a broad, old-looking face. +That was because he used to eat an awful lot,--he’d eat sausage, and +chocolate bon-bons, and pretzels, and pastry made out of layers of +dough,--whatsoever his heart might desire. But his little legs, his +little arms, was like a sheep’s, and all broken, all in scars. They +used to keep him just so for a long time, making long shirts for him +of different colours; sometimes blue, sometimes pink. They had a lady +teacher from a parochial school coming over to our house to teach him. +He was a great hand for learning, and had a good head on his shoulders! +And the way he’d play on an accordeon--you couldn’t find even a whole +person to play like that! He’d play, and sing in time with the music. +He had a strong, piercing voice. He used to go way, way up when he’d +sing: “I’m a monk, and handsome too!” He used to sing that song often. + +The elder son was in good health, but also a sort of innocent, not fit +for any business. They gave him away for instruction into all sorts of +schools,--and he was chased out of all of them; they couldn’t learn him +anything. Come night,--he’d get full some place or other, and be gone +until dawn. Still, he really was afraid of his mother, and would not +come in through the front door for anything. I’d get through with my +work in the evening, and wait until the master and mistress would be +asleep; then I’d steal through the rooms, open the window in his little +den, and then go back to my place again. He’d take his boots off in the +street, crawl through the window in only his stocking-feet, and never a +squeak or a creak out of him. The next day he’d get up like he’d never +been any place, and in some spot where we couldn’t be seen he’d shove +what was coming to me into my hand. It wasn’t none of my worry, and I’d +take it right gladly! If he was to break his neck, that would be his +lookout.... And then I started in having an income from the younger, +from Nicanor Matveich. + +I was after what I wanted day and night, you might say. Once I took +into my head that one idea, to absolutely provide for myself and to +marry a decent party, I had taken a fresh hold on life. I used to save +every little copper, now; money, you know, has little wings, once you +let it out of your hands! + +I got rid of this here Vera,--but she, to tell the truth, was there +really without need; I just put it that way to the master and mistress: +“I can get along all by my own self,” I says; “you just add any trifle +you like to my wage, and you’ll do better nor now.” So, then, I was +left alone and managing everything myself. I wouldn’t even take the +wages in my hands,--soon as twenty or twenty-five roubles would gather, +I’d beg the mistress to go to the bank and put it away in my name. +Clothes, and shoes, and everything else went with the place,--what was +I to spend money for? The only expenses I had was to put up a little +stone at my husband’s grave,--I paid two roubles seventy, so’s people +wouldn’t talk. And right here, the Lord forgive us,--such was my luck +and his misfortune,--this poor wretch had to go and fall in love with +me.... + +Of course, now I often think: maybe it was on account of him that +God punished me through my son. Sometimes I can’t get it out of my +head,--I’ll tell you right away what he went and done to himself. +And besides, just consider that it really was very hard,--I used to +look at this big-headed fellow, and what a vexation would take hold +on me! “May this and that befall you,” I’d think, “you was born, with +a silver spoon in your mouth! Even though you be a cripple, yet how +rich you live.... Whereas mine is all sound, and yet he don’t eat or +drink as much on a holiday as you do on a week-day, just so.” Then I +started in to notice,--it looked like he’d fallen in love with me; +well, now, he just wouldn’t take his eyes off my face. By that time +he was already sixteen, and had taken to wearing wide trousers, and +to belting his blouse; a red-haired moustache started cropping out. +But he was homely, tow-haired, green-eyed--God deliver me! His face +was broad, but he himself was as thin as a bone. At first, evidently, +he got it into his head that he could be pleasing,--he began to dress +up, to buy polly-seeds, and used to play on his accordeon so fine +that you could listen to him for hours. He played well, to tell the +truth. When he seen that his affair weren’t coming along, he grew +quiet and thoughtful-like. Once I was standing in the balcony, and +I see him crawling through the yard with a new German accordeon. He +had shaved and combed himself once more; had put on a three-buttoned +blouse with a high collar, fastening at the side; his head was thrown +back,--looking for me, that is. He looked and he looked; his eyes +became longing-like and dim, and then he began a polka: + + “Let us go, let us go, + I would dance a polka through; + Dancing makes one braver; so + I can speak my love for you....” + +But, like as if I hadn’t noticed him, I took and threw down a +slop-bowl, with water! I threw it down, and then was scared myself. But +he crawls, he struggles up the stairs, drying himself with one hand and +dragging the accordeon by the other. His eyes were lowered, and he was +all white, and he spoke meek-like, all aquiver: + +“May your hands wither. What you’ve done is a sin, Nastiya.” + +And that was all.... True, he was a peaceful one. + +He was losing flesh at that time, not by the day but by the hour; and +the doctor had already said that he wasn’t long for this world, that +he was bound to die from a consumption. It made me shudder even as +much as to touch him. But then a poor person ain’t got no call to be +particular,--money can do anything, and so he started in to bribe me. +Just as soon as everybody used to fall asleep, right off he’d call me +to him,--either into the garden or into his room. (He lived apart from +everybody, living downstairs; his room was large, warm, and yet bleak; +all the windows looked out into the yard, the ceiling was low, the wall +paper was old and brown.) + +“You just sit with me a while,” he says, “and I’ll give you some money +for that. I don’t want anything from you,--I have simply fallen in +love with you, and want to be with you; these walls have near drove me +crazy.” + +Well, I’d take the money and sit for a while, and I got together about +half a hundred in that way. And then I had about four hundred of wages +and interest laid by. So, thinks I to myself, it’s about time now +for me to be crawling out of the harness, bit by bit. But, to tell +the honest truth, it was a pity to do so,--I wanted to bide my time +for another year or so, to save up a little more. But the main thing +was,--he had let it slip once when he was talking with me,--he had a +little toy saving bank that he was keeping most secret,--he had gotten +over two hundred roubles in trifling sums from his mother. Naturally, +with him lying sick, always abed, and all alone, his mother would +thrust the money upon him to cheer him up. But no matter how I tried +not to, I still would think once in a while: “The Lord forgive my +transgression, but it would be best if he gave that money to me! It’s +of no use to him, anyway; he’s like to die at any moment; whereas I’d +be well-fixed for all time with it.” I just waited to see how this +business might be worked, as cleverly as possible. I became more kind +to him, of course; began to sit with him more often. I used to come +into his room, and then look over my shoulder on purpose, as though I +had come in by stealth. I’d close the door and begin speaking in a low +whisper: + +“There now,” I’d say, “I’ve got away; let’s sit together like a lovin’ +couple.” + +Making believe, that is, like I had a meeting arranged with him, but +that I was losing my courage, and yet at the same time was glad that I +had got through with my work and could now be with him. Then I began +to put on a weary air, to pretend I was in deep thought. And he was +always trying to get the reason out of me: + +“Nast, why have you grown so sad?” + +“Oh, just so! I’ve got more than my share of trouble!” + +And then I’d top that with a sigh, become quiet, and lean my cheek on +my hand. + +“But just what,” he’d say, “is the matter?” + +“Well,” I says, “poor folks got a lot of things the matter with them, +but who ever worries about them? I wouldn’t even want to bore you with +them.” + +Well, he guessed what was what pretty soon. He was clever, like I +said,--he’d be a match even for a healthy person. One day I came into +his room,--it was, as I remember even now, in mid-Lent; the weather was +sort of gloomy, wet, with a fog outside; everybody in the house was +sleeping after dinner. I come into his room with some needle-work in +my hands,--I was sewing something or other for myself; I sat down near +his bed and was just wanting to heave a sigh, and again make believe +I was aweary, and then start leading him on to my idea easy-like, +when he starts in talking about it himself. I can see him right now, +lying in his pink blouse,--brand new, never yet washed; in blue wide +trousers; in new small boots with patent-leather tops; his legs laid +one acrost the other, and him looking out of the corner of his eye. +His sleeves was wide, the trousers wider still, and his little legs +and arms like match-sticks; his head was heavy, big, and he were all +little himself,--it even made a body unwell to see him. To look at him, +he seemed a boy, yet his face was that of an old man, although it was +somehow youngish at the same time,--that was on account of him being +clean-shaved,--and he had a thick moustache. (Come to think of it, he +shaved himself every day, that’s how fast his beard would grow; his +hands looked like they was covered with tow, and the hair upon them was +all red, too.) Well, as I was saying, he’s lying there, his hair parted +on one side, his face turned toward the wall; he was picking at the +wall-paper, and all of a sudden he says; + +“Nast!” + +I even shuddered all over. + +“What is it, Nicanor Matveich?” + +And meanwhile my own heart rolled up to my mouth. + +“Do you know where my toy bank is lying?” + +“No,” I says, “how should I know that, Nicanor Matveich? I never had no +evil designs in my mind upon you.” + +“Get up; draw out the bottom drawer in the wardrobe; take out the old +accordeon,--that’s where the toy bank is. Let me have it here.” + +“But what do you want it for?” + +“Just so,--I want to count the money.” + +I got at the drawer, opened the cover of the accordeon,--and there, +stuffed into the bellows, was a tin elephant,--feeling pretty heavy. +I take it out and hand it to him. He takes it, rattles it, lays it +by him,--just like a baby, he was, honest to God,--and goes off into +thought about something. He keeps silent, and he keeps silent; then he +smiles, and says: + +“To-day, Nast, I had a fine dream. I even woke up before daybreak on +account of it, and it has made me feel very good all day, up to dinner. +Just look,--I have even shaved myself, and have got all dressed up for +you.” + +“But then, Nicanor Matveich, you always go about neat-dressed, anyway.” + +And I don’t understand myself what I’m saying, I’m that excited. + +“Well,” says he, “I guess I will be able to go about in the other +world. You can’t even imagine what a good-looking fellow I’m going to +be in the other world!” + +I even got to feeling sorry for him. + +“It’s a sin to make fun of such things, Nicanor Matveich, and I can’t +even understand why you say such things. Perhaps,” I says, “God will +send you health yet. You’d do better to tell me what your dream was.” + +He started in beating about the bush again; started in to smile +wryly,--“What good am I alive!” he says. Then he began, without rhyme +or reason, to talk about a cow we had: + +“For God’s sake,” says he, “tell mother to sell it; I can’t stand it no +more, that’s how tired I am of it; I lie here in bed and look at the +little barn where she’s kept, and she always looks back at me through +the bars,”--and all the while he’s rattling the money, and keeps from +looking me in the eyes. And I listen, and also can’t understand half of +what he’s saying,--just like two persons out of their minds, we was, +saying anything that came into our heads. Finally I couldn’t stand +it no more; for, thinks I, everybody will wake up at any second, and +they’ll be calling for a samovar, and then the whole business falls +through! And so I interrupt him as soon as I can, going in for cunning: + +“But no,” I says, “you’d better tell me what dream you saw.... _Was it +anything about us two?_” + +Of course, I wanted to say something that would please him, and I +struck it so right that he even changed colour entirely, and cast his +eyes down. All of a sudden he takes the toy bank, gets a little key out +of his trousers’-pocket, and wants to open it,--and can’t, nohow; just, +can’t get at the key-hole, his hands are trembling so. At last he does +manage to open it and pours out all it held onto his belly,--I remember +it all like it was now: there was two paper bills and eight gold +pieces; he scoops it all into his hand, and suddenly says in a whisper: + +“Could you kiss me just once?” + +My hands and feet just got numb from fright. But he’s carrying on like +he was going out of his mind, whispering, stretching upward to me: + +“Nastechka, just once! God is my witness I will never say another word, +never ask again!” + +I looked over my shoulder,--well, thinks I, I might just as well be +hanged for a sheep as for a lamb,--and I kissed him. So he was all just +gasping; he grabbed me around the neck, caught my lips, and I guess he +didn’t let me go for a whole minute. Then he shoves all the money into +my hand,--and turns his face to the wall. + +“Go,” he says. + +I ran out and went straight into my room. I put the money away under +lock and key, grabbed hold of a lemon, and started in to rub my lips. +I rubbed them so hard that they simply turned all white. I was awful +afraid, to tell the truth, that I might get a consumption from him.... + +Well and good,--this business, then, turned out all right, glory +be to God; so I begin to lay my plans for the next move, of more +importance,--the one which I had the most struggles about. I felt that +there was trouble brewing; I was afraid he wouldn’t let me leave my +place. “He’ll start in,” thinks I, “to pester me with his love, will +want to become my husband on account of this money.” But no; nothing +happens, I see. He don’t try to annoy me; he treats me rightly, the +same like before, as though nothing had taken place between us,--even +more modestly, it looks like,--and he don’t call me into his room: +that meant he was keeping his word. Then I bring the talk around to my +going away, putting it up to my master and mistress: it’s time for me +to see about my son a little, now; to be free for a little while. They +won’t even hear of it. And as for him, you can understand how he felt, +without my saying a word about it. I hinted about my going away to him +at one time,--so he just got all white. He turns his face to the wall, +and says with a sort of a bitter little smile: + +“You have no right to do it,” he says. “You have led me on, have got me +used to you. You must wait,--I will die soon. But if you go away now, I +will strangle myself.” + +A fine modest fellow he turned out to be, didn’t he? “Ah,” thinks I, +“damn your shameless eyes! Here I have forced myself to do like you +wanted, but you take to threatening me! Oh, no, you haven’t come across +one of that sort in me!” And I started looking for an excuse harder +than ever. About that time, most luckily, the mistress gave birth to +another girl, and a wet-nurse was hired for her; so I picked on that, +saying that I couldn’t get along with her. She was, to tell the truth, +a wicked, daft old woman; even the mistress herself was afraid of her. +And she used to drink, on top of that,--there was always a demijohn on +duty under her bed,--and she couldn’t bear anybody to be near her. So +she began saying things about me, making trouble in all sorts of ways. +Either I hadn’t pressed the linen right, or else I didn’t know how to +wait at table at all.... But, if you was just to say one word to her, +she’d get all in a trembling passion and run off to complain. She’d sob +out loud, and, of course, not so much because she had been offended, +but just dissembling. The further it went, the worse it got, so I up +and says to the master and mistress: + +“So and so,” I says, “let me go; I can’t bear to live on account of +that old woman; I will lay hands on myself.” + +And in the meanwhile, I already had my eye on a house on Glukhaya +Ulitza.[11] Well, hearing me speak like that, the mistress didn’t even +try to hold me any longer. True, when she was saying good-bye to me, +she wanted me to come and live with them again, awful hard; or just to +come on some holidays, or on birthdays: + +[11] Blind Alley would be the nearest English equivalent. _Trans._ + +“You must,” she says, “always come to put things in order, to get +everything ready. It’s only when you’re around,” she says, “that I feel +easy. I have grown used to you, like you was one of the family.” + +She saw me off with all honours,--which meant that she no longer held +any grudge against me; she baked a great big white loaf, putting in a +whole salt-cellar full of sugar. I thank her in all sorts of ways, but, +of course, she wasn’t anything much in my life,--so I thinks one thing, +and I says another. I promised her all she wanted and more, scraping +and bowing low before her,--and went my ways. And at once, with the +Lord’s blessing, I got busy. I bought the house I had in mind, and +opened a dram shop. The trade started off awful good,--in the evening, +when I’d come to counting what I’d taken in during the day, there would +be thirty, or forty, or sometimes all of forty-five roubles in the +till,--and so I got the idea of opening up a store as well, so as, you +understand, to get them coming and going. My husband’s sister had long +since married a watchman in the Red Cross; he was calling me gossip all +the time, and was friendly with me,--so I went to him, got a trifling +loan for all sorts of fixtures, permits, and started in doing business. +And right then Vanniya had finished his apprenticeship. I took counsel +with folks that knew a thing or two as to where I could place him, now. + +“Why,” says they, “where else would you place him, when there’s no end +of work in your own house?” + +And they were right, at that. So I put Vanniya into the store, and stay +in the dram shop myself. And then we were off! And, of course, I had +even forgot to think of all this past nonsense,--although, to tell the +honest truth, the poor cripple had just taken to his bed, at the time +I was going away. Never a word out of him to anybody, but just lies +down, just like he were dead, forgetting his accordeon even. Suddenly, +lo, and behold ye, Polkanikha comes into my yard,--this same wet-nurse. +(The little boys had nick-named her Polkanikha.[12]) She comes, and she +says: + +[12] Wife-of-a-regiment. _Trans._ + +“A certain man has told me to give you his regards; says you should +come and pay him a visit, without fail.” + +I went all hot and cold from vexation and shame! “What a darling, to +be sure!” thinks I to myself. “What an idea he has gotten into his +head! What a mate he has found for himself!” I couldn’t hold in and I +says: + +“I got no use for his regards; he ought to keep in mind the state +he’s in, and you, you old devil, ought to be ashamed to try and be a +go-between. Do you hear me, or don’t you?” + +She just stopped short. She stands, all stooping, her swollen eyes +glowing at me from under her brows, and just shaking her cabbage head; +she’d grown daft, either from the heat or from vodka. + +“Oh, you heartless creature!” says she. “He was even crying about you,” +she says. “All last evening he lay with his face to the wall, and +sobbing out loud.” + +“Well,” says I, “am I to start weeping bucketfuls? And wasn’t he +ashamed, the red-head, to be bawling before folks? Why, what a baby! Or +was he weaned from the breast, or something?” + +And so I put the old woman out as empty-handed as she had come, and +didn’t go myself. And right soon after that he took and really did +strangle himself. Right then, of course, I felt great regret because +I hadn’t gone; but at that time I had other things to think about, +besides him. I had one disgrace coming on top of another, right in my +own house. + +I had rented out two rooms in the house; one was taken by the policeman +on our post,--a fine, serious-minded, respectable man, Chaikin by name; +a young lady prostitute came into the other. Flaxen-fair she was, kind +of young, and not at all bad to look at,--rather good-looking. She was +called Phenia. Kholin the contractor used to come to see her,--he was +keeping her; well, I relied on that, and let her take the room. But +right here some disagreement took place between them, and so he left +her. What was to be done? She had nothing to pay with, but I couldn’t +chase her out,--she had run up a debt of eight roubles. + +“Miss,” says I, “you must earn off anybody; I don’t keep no open house +for strangers.” + +“I will try,” she says. + +“But then, somehow a body can’t see you trying. Instead of trying, you +always stick at home evening after evening. It’s no use,” I says, “to +be placing your hopes on Chaikin.” + +“I will try. It makes me conscience-struck, just to hear you.” + +“A-ah!” I says, “what a conscience you must have, to be sure!” + +She’ll try and she’ll try,--but there was no trying of any sort, if the +truth be told. She did try to get around Chaikin but he wouldn’t even +as much as look at her. Then I see that she’s going after my boy. No +matter when I look, he’s always hanging around her. All of a sudden, he +gets a notion of getting a new jacket. + +“Oh, no,” I says, “you’ll wait a while! As it is, I’m dressing you like +any fine young gentleman; now it’s boots, now it’s a cap. I, now, used +to deny myself everything, used to figure every copper as a gold piece, +yet I’d supply you with everything.” + +“I’m not a bad-looker,” says he. + +“You daft loon,” says I, “what am I to do, sell the house, or +something, on account of your good looks?” + +I notice that my business is getting poorer. I started having +shortages, losses. I’d sit down to drink my tea,--and even that had +lost its taste for me. I started in to watch. I’d be sitting in the +dram shop, and yet be listening all the time--I’d put my ear to the +partition, without stirring, and listen. I’d hear them rumbling one +day, I’d hear them rumbling the next.... I begun scolding him about it. + +“And what business is that of yours?” he says. “Maybe I want to marry +her.” + +“So that’s how,--it’s none of your own mother’s business! I see your +intention long since,” I says, “only this is never going to be in this +eternity.” + +“She’s mad in love with me; you can’t understand her; she is tender and +shy.” + +“A fine love you can expect,” I says, “from a deboshed slut like +that! She’s making fun of you, you fool,” I says. “She’s got the bad +disease,” I says, “all her legs is covered with sores.” + +He seemed turned to stone for a while; his eyes was all puckered up, +like he was looking at the bridge of his nose, and he kept silent. +“Well,” thinks I, “glory be to the Lord, I got him in the right spot.” +But still, I was frightened to death: it was plain to be seen, you +understand, that the poor fellow had fallen hard. “So that means,” +thinks I, “that I must finish her off as fast as I can.” I take +counsel with my gossip, and with Chaikin. “Tell me, now, what am I to +do with them?” “Why,” they say, “catch them on the spot, of course, +and throw them out,--and there’s the long and the short of it.” And +here is what they thought up. I made believe I was going out calling. +I went away, walked for some time through the streets, and about six +o’clock,--when Chaikin was relieved, that is,--I set out for home, +soft and easy. I run up and push the door,--just as I thought, it was +locked. I knock,--no answer. And Chaikin was already standing around +the corner. Then I started knocking on the windows, until the panes +jarred. Suddenly the latch clicks,--and Vanniya comes out. He’s as +white as chalk. I hit him on the shoulder with all my might,--and go +straight into the room. And there it was just like a feast had been +laid out,--empty beer bottles; weak table wine; sardines; a large +herring, all cleaned, as rosy as amber,--everything from the store. +Phenka was sitting on a chair, with a blue ribbon in her braid. Soon as +she saw me, she jumped up, staring at me with all her eyes; she was all +white, and her very lips had turned blue from fear,--she thought I’d go +for her, to beat her. But I just says, natural-like,--although I could +scarcely breath; I was throwing my shawl open, and then muffling myself +up again, by turns: + +“What have you got here?” I says; “is it a bethrothal, or something? +Or is it somebody’s birthday? Well, why don’t you welcome a body, why +don’t you treat me to something?” + +They don’t say a word. + +“Well,” I says, “why don’t you say something? Why don’t you speak, +little son? Is that the kind of a host you are, my pet? So that’s where +my hard-earned money flies away, I see!” + +He even got his dander up: + +“I am of full age myself!” + +“So-o,” I says, “and what about me? That means that I’m to rent a hutch +or something from your grace and this here little bitch? To get out of +my own house? Is that it, eh, so I’ve warmed a viper in my bosom, have +I?” + +And then he starts yelling at me! + +“You have no right to insult her! You have been young yourself at one +time,--you ought to understand what love is!” + +And Chaikin, the minute he heard that uproar, was right there: he +jumped in without a word, grabbed Vannka by the shoulders, and straight +into a lumber room with him, under lock and key. (An awful strong man, +he was,--like a bandit or something!) He turns the key on him, and says +to Phenka: + +“You are listed as a miss, but I can make a wolf out of you!” + +(Meaning he’d make a note on her passport that would make her hounded +like a wolf.) + +“Do you want me to do that,” he says, “or don’t you? Vacate this room +for us this very day, so’s there won’t be even a whiff of you left!” + +She went into tears. But I added something on top of that. + +“Let her first get the money what’s coming to me!” I says. “Or else I +won’t even let her take away the least little lousy trunk of hers. Let +her get my money ready, or I’ll let the whole town know about her!” + +Well, so we packed her off that same evening. When I was chasing her +out, she took on something awful. She cried and she couldn’t catch her +breath for sobbing; she even tore her hair. Of course, her fix wasn’t +any too sweet. Where was she to go? All her goods, all her booty, +was her own person. But never the less she went off. Vanniya, too, +quieted down for a while. He was let out from under lock and key in +the morning,--and never a peep out of him; he was very much scared, +and you could see by his face that he was conscience-stricken. He +settled down to work. And so I even rejoiced and was set at rest,--but +not for long. Again there were leaks from the till; and this here +street-walker started sending a boy into the shop, and my son, now, +would supply her with all sorts of delicacies! Now he’d give her all +the sugar she wanted, now tea, now tobacco.... Or a handkerchief, or +soap, again and again,--whatever came to his hand.... How was a body +to watch him all the time? And then he started in to drink, harder and +harder. At last he neglected the store entirely: he didn’t even live at +home, come to think of it,--he’d just come in and eat, and then he’d +be off again without as much as a by-your-leave. Every day he’d go +off to see her; he’d put a bottle under his coat, and away with him; +and this same vodka, now, was already dear then. I run around like a +chicken without its head,--from the dram-shop to the store, from the +store to the dram-shop; and by that time I was afraid to tell him as +much as a word,--he had become a downright tramp! He always was a +good-looker,--he took after me entirely; his face was very fair and +soft,--just like a young lady, he was; he had clear, intelligent eyes; +was well-built, broad-shouldered, with chestnut curly hair.... But now +his mug was all bloated; his hair got shaggy and came down over his +collar; his eyes got bleary, and he got all tattered and had begun to +stoop. He always kept silent now, looking at the bridge of his nose all +the time,--in deep thought, like. + +“Don’t you bother me now,” he’d say, “I’m liable to do something that +will lead to prison.” + +And when he’d get tipsy, he’d start slobbering, laughing over nothing +at all; he’d be playing _Time Fled Beyond Recall_ on his accordeon, and +his eyes would fill with tears. Well, I see my affairs are in a bad +way,--time for me to get married, soon as I can. And right then they +was trying to make a match betwixt me and a certain widower,--he had +a store, too, and lived in a suburb. An elderly man, he was, but in +good standing, with means. Just the very thing, you understand, that +I was striving for. I find out as quickly as I can from trustworthy +folks all about his life, down to the last stitch; I see there’s +nothing out of the way whatsoever. I got to decide about getting up +an acquaintance as quick as possible,--the match-maker had only shown +us to each other in church before that; I got to bring it about, you +understand, so’s we can visit each other,--sort of make an inspection, +as it were. He comes to me first, and gives his credentials: “Lagutin, +Nikolai Ivannich,--store-keeper.” “Very pleased to meet you,” I says. I +see he’s altogether a fine man,--not any too tall, of course, and all +gray; but so agreeable, quiet, neat, diplomatic,--you could see he was +a thrifty sort; he had never run up a copper of debt to anybody in all +his life, he says. Then me and the match-maker went to see him, like +it was on business. We get there. I see he’s got a wine-cellar,--Rhine +wines, mostly; and a store stocked with everything that goes with +wines: cured lard, now, and ham, and sardines, and herrings. The house +wasn’t large, but neat as a pin. There was flowers and little curtains +on the windows, the floor was swept clean,--even though he were a +bachelor. In the yard everything was in order, too. There was three +cows and two horses. One was a three-year-old brood-mare,--he’d been +offered five hundred for it already, he said, but he’d turned the offer +down. Well, I just went into raptures watching that horse,--that’s how +handsome it was! But he only smiles quiet-like, walks with little steps +before us, crackling his fingers, and telling us everything, like he +was reading off some price-list: here’s this and this, and there’s that +and that.... So, thinks I, it’s no use trying to be too smart here; the +business ought to be brought to an end quick.... + +Of course, it’s only now that I’m telling all these things so briefly; +but only my poor head knows what feelings I went through at that +time! I couldn’t feel my legs under me for joy,--I’d gotten what I +was after, you see, I had found the party I was looking for! But I +kept silent, I was afraid and shivering all over,--supposing all my +hopes was to be dashed down? And that’s almost what did happen; all my +trouble almost went for nothing,--and I can’t tell calmly the reason +why, even now;--it was on account of this here poor cripple, and on +account of my darling little son! We was managing this business so +quietly, so genteel, that we thought never a soul would know. But no, +I hear that the entire suburb already knows about my intentions and +Nikolai Ivannich’s; the rumour, of course, reached the Samokhvalovs as +well,--never fear, it was nobody else but Polkanikha that whispered it +to them. And he, the poor cripple, now, took and hung himself, like I’m +telling you! “There now, you,--I threatened and you didn’t believe me, +so now, I’ll do it just to spite you!” He hammered a nail into the wall +above his head, fixed a cord from a sugar-loaf to it, drew it around +his throat, and crawled off the bed. It wasn’t no great trick; didn’t +take much brains! One day at twilight I was standing in the store, +putting some things to rights,--when suddenly some one thunders again +and again against a shutter in the house. My heart just went down into +my shoes. I jump out on the threshold,--it’s Polkanikha. + +“What do you want?” + +“Nicanor Matveich has passed away!” + +She barked it out, turned on her heel, and went for home. But I, in the +first excitement, didn’t take anything into account,--it was just like +I had been scalded with steam from fright.... I threw a shawl over my +shoulders, and started after her. She runs, with her skirt caught up in +front, stumbling, stooping,--and I keep on running too.... It was just +a disgrace before the whole town! I run, and can’t understand a thing. +I had only one thought,--I’m ruined forever! Just think of what he’d +gone and done,--may God not bear it against him! Just think what little +conscience some people have! I run up to the house,--and there are as +many people there as at a fire. The front entrance is ajar; whoever +wants to pushes his way in,--everybody is curious, naturally. In my +lightheadedness I tried to get in there too. But, glory be, something +seemed to hit me over the head; I came to my senses and backed out. +Maybe that was what saved me,--else I would have known what crow tastes +like. If any one,--why, even this Polkanikha, say,--had remembered +me!... “Here, now, your honour, is the one we think is to blame, who is +the reason of it all; just you question her,”--and all would have been +over with me. Try and wriggle out of it then. A person may not have a +blessed thing to do with it, but they grab you and put you away.... It +wouldn’t be the first time a thing like that has happened. + +Well, soon as they buried him, my heart eased up a little. I’m getting +ready for the wedding, hurrying to wind up my business, to sell what I +could without loss,--when again there’s grief and woe. I was knocked +off my feet as it was, what with one worry and another, and was all +roasted from the heat,--the heat that year was simply unbearable, with +dust, with a hot wind, especially in our neighbourhood, in Glukhaya +Ulitza, standing half way up on a hill,--when suddenly there was +another bit of news: Nikolai Ivannich had taken offense. He sends over +this same match-maker, now, that had brought us together,--a terrible +slut, she was, and kept both her eyes peeled; never fear, it was she +herself that put him, Nikolai Ivannich, up to it. Nikolai Ivannich lets +me know through her as how he’s putting off the wedding until the first +of September,--he’s got a lot of affairs to attend to, now,--and lets +me know about my son, about Vanniya: to figure out what was best to be +done with him; that he was to be placed anywhere at all,--“Because, +now,” he says, “I won’t take him into my house, for no amount. Even +though he be your own son,” he says, “he’s bound to clear ruin us, and +he’ll be upsetting me.” (And really, just think of his position! Since +he’s never known any turmoil, had never raised any rows, of course he +was afraid of any excitement: whenever he’d get excited, everything in +his head would get muddled,--he wouldn’t be able to say a word.) “Let +her get rid of him,” he says. And where was I to place him, how was I +to get rid of him? The young fellow had gotten out of hand entirely; +with strangers he’d break his neck altogether. But there was no way +of getting away from his riddance. As it was, I was all through with +him ever since he’d come to know Phenka: she had just bewitched him, +the bitch! He’d sleep all day and drink all night,--turning night into +day.... I couldn’t even begin to tell the trouble I went through with +him that summer! He got me so that I began to melt away like a candle; +I couldn’t hold a spoon, my hands shook so. Soon as it got dark I’d sit +down on the bench before the house and wait until he’d come in off the +street,--I was afeared the boys in the city might do him up.... + +Well, having gotten such a decision from Nikolai Ivannich, I call my +son to me: “So and so, my little son,” I says, “I’ve borne with you +long enough, but you’ve turned out a weakling and have gone astray; +you have disgraced me all over this neighbourhood. You’ve got used +to having everything soft and nice, now, until at last you’ve become +a tramp, a drunkard. You haven’t got a gift like I have,--no matter +how many times I fell, I always got up again; but you can’t save up +anything for yourself. Here am I,--I’ve come to be respected, and I +own real estate, and I drink and eat no worse nor other folk; I don’t +deny my heart nothing,--and all along of being governed by common +sense, always and above all things. But you, I see, want to stay a +flutter-fly, like you’d always been. It’s time you was getting off my +neck....” + +He sits there and never a word out of him,--just picks the oilcloth on +the table. I had just called him out to dinner, for he’d been sleeping +all along, and his mug was all puffed up. + +“Well, why don’t you say something?” I asks. “Don’t you be tearing that +oilcloth,--get one of your own first; just you answer me.” + +Again he don’t say a word; he bends his head and his lips quiver. + +“You’re going to marry?” he says. + +“Well,” I says, “it ain’t known yet whether I am or whether I ain’t; +but, if I do marry, it will be a decent man, that ain’t a-going to +let you into his house. I ain’t your Phenka, brother; I ain’t no +street-walker or something.” + +When all on a sudden he jumps up from his place and gets all in a +passion: + +“Why,” he says, “you ain’t worth one of her fingernails!” + +How was that? Good, eh? He jumped up, yelling till it didn’t sound +like his own voice, slammed the door like thunder,--and off with him. +But I, even though I was no great hand at crying, just went off into +tears. I cry one day, I cry another,--I had only to think of the words +he could find the heart to say to me, and off I’d go. I cry, but I +keep one thing in mind,--I would never forgive him such an insult till +the end of time, and I would drive him off entirely.... But all this +time he don’t come home. I hear he’s carrying on a feast at her house, +dancing and prancing, drinking through the money he had stolen, and +threatening me: “Never mind,” he says, “I’ll settle her; I’ll lay in +wait till she’ll be going somewhere in the evening; and I’ll kill her +with a stone.” He sends to the store to buy things,--to make fun of me, +of course; now for ginger cookies, now for herrings. I just quiver all +over from vexation, but I hold myself in and give what’s wanted. One +day I’m sitting in the store, when suddenly he comes in himself, drunk +as a lord. He brings in some herrings,--a little wench had bought four +of them that morning for his money, of course,--and slap with them down +on the counter! + +“How dare you,” he yells, “send such abominable stuff to your +customers? They smell; they’re only fit for dogs to eat!” + +He’s yelling, with his nostrils all puffed out,--looking for an excuse. + +“Don’t you be raising no rumpus here,” I says, “and don’t be yelling; +I don’t make the herrings myself, but buy them by the barrel. If you +don’t like them, don’t guzzle them,--here’s your money back.” + +“But what if I had ate them and died?” + +“Again,” I says, “you’re swine, and ain’t got no call to be yelling at +me,--who are you to be giving me orders? Guess you ain’t such a much. +You ought to speak decent-like, and not be crowding in with a row into +somebody else’s establishment.” + +But all on a sudden he grabbed hold of a steelyard off a bin and sort +of hisses out: + +“I’ll swat you over the head,” he says, “so’s you’ll stretch right out!” + +And then he ran out of the shop with all his might. But I, the way I +had sat down on the floor, that’s the way I stayed,--I just couldn’t +get up.... + +Then, I hear that they done for him,--the Lord had punished him on +account of his mother! He was barely alive when they brought him in a +cab,--unconscious drunk, his head bobbing, his hair caked with blood +and covered with dust; his boots and watch had been stolen, his new +jacket was all in tatters,--there wasn’t as much as a square inch of +whole cloth left anywhere.... I figured and I figured,--take him in +I did, and I even paid the cabby; but that very same day I sends my +compliments to Nikolai Ivannich, and say that he be told for sure that +he shouldn’t be worried any more over anything; that I had decided +about my son, now,--I would drive him out without any pity right off +when he would wake up. He also sends back his compliments and bids them +say: “Very wisely and well done, accept my thanks and sympathy ...” and +two weeks later he set the date for the wedding. Yes.... + +Well, that’s enough; that’s where my story ends. Guess there’s nothing +more, to tell about. I’ve gotten along so well with my husband all my +days, that it’s just like a rarity nowadays. As I’m saying, what I went +through whilst I was struggling to get into this heaven can’t be told +in words! But, truth to tell, the Lord hath rewarded me,--it is now the +twenty-first year that I’m living with my little old man, fenced about +as with a stone wall, and I know for sure that he wouldn’t let nothing +or nobody hurt me; it’s only to look at him that he’s so quiet! But, of +course, no matter how I try, the heart _will_ start yearning once in a +while! Especially before Easter, in Lent, for some reason or other. I +think I could die now,--it’s fine, peaceful; they’ll be after reading +litanies in all the churches.... True, I’ve had enough of toiling and +moiling in my time,--oh, but Nastasiya Semenovna was the persistent +one! Ought I, with my mind, to be sitting on the outskirts of a town? +My husband calls me Skobele,[13] as it is.... Again, once in a while +I get to longing for Vanniya. Never a bit of news about him in twenty +years. Maybe he’s died long since, but I don’t know about it. I even +felt sorry for him that time they brought him in. We dragged him in, +and got him up into bed,--he slept like he was dead the livelong day. +I’d climb up, and listen to his breathing,--to see if he was alive, +now.... And in the room there was a sour stench of some sort; he’s +lying in bed, all tattered, chewed-up, snoring and gagging.... It was a +shame and a pity to look at him, and yet it was my own flesh and blood! +I’d look and I’d look, and I’d listen,--and then walk out. And what an +anguish seized hold on me! I forced myself to sup, cleared away the +table, put out the light.... Can’t sleep, and that’s all there is to +it,--I just lie there and shiver.... And it was one moonlit night. Then +I hear he’s waked up. He’s coughing all the time, all the time going +out into the yard, banging the door. + +[13] A great Russian general and a universal military genius and +strategist. _Trans._ + +“What you walking about for?” I ask. + +“My stomach aches,” he says. + +I can hear by his voice that he’s upset and grieving. + +“Drink some of that mugwort and vodka that you’ll find in a bottle +standing in the image shrine.” + +I lay a little longer,--I may have dozed off a little,--when I felt +through my slumber, that some one is stealing up over the flooring. I +jumped up,--it was he. + +“Mother, dear,” he says, “don’t be afraid of me, for the love of +Christ!” + +And then he went off into a flood of tears! He sat down on the bed, +catching my hands, kissing them, raining tears on them,--and just +unable to catch his breath,--that’s how he was crying and sobbing. I +couldn’t bear it--and went off on my own! It was a pity, of course, +but there was no help for it,--all my future lot turned upon him. But +then, I saw he understood all this very well himself. + +“I can forgive you,” I says, “but you see yourself, now, that there’s +nothing to be done about it. So you just go away as far as possible, +so’s I shouldn’t even hear about you!” + +“Mother, dear,” he says, “why have you ruined me, just like you ruined +that poor cripple Nicanor Matveich?” + +Well, I see the man ain’t in his right senses yet, so I didn’t even +start to argue with him. He cried and he cried, then he got up and went +away. And in the morning, I look into the room where he’d slept, but +he was already gone for a long while. That meant he had gone as early +as possible for shame,--and then he just disappeared, like a stone in +the water. There was a rumour, now, that he had lived for a while in +a monastery at Zadorsk; that he had then travelled to Tsaritsin,--and +there, never fear, he must have broken his neck.... But what’s the use +of talking about it--it only troubles the heart! No matter how much you +cook water, it will still be water.... + +But as to what he’d said about Nicanor Matveich,--why, I think it’s +even silly. It wasn’t like I had been greedy after a great sum, or had +pulled it out of his pocket. He knew his unfortunate condition himself, +and was often taken with spells of sadness. He used to say to me at +times: + +“Nastiya, fate has made me a cripple, and my nature is an insane one: +either I’m gay somehow, like just before some misfortune,--or else I +have such a melancholy spell, especially in summer, during the heat, +with all this dust, that I could just lay hands on myself! I’ll die; +they’ll bury me in the Chernoslobodskaya cemetery,--and this dust will +swirl for all eternity on to my grave, from beyond the enclosing wall!” + +“But, now, Nicanor Matveich, why take on so about that? We don’t feel +such things when we’re dead.” + +“Why,” he says, “what of it that we won’t feel them,--the trouble is +that one thinks about them while one is still alive....” + +And, to tell the truth, it was awful wearisome in the house, in the +Samokhvalovs’, when everybody would fall asleep after dinner, and +the wind would be swirling this dust along! And he had laid hands on +himself just at the time of the greatest heat, at the dullest time. Our +whole town, to tell the truth, is wearisome. I was in Tula the other +day, now,--why, you can’t even compare them! + +_1911._ + + + + +“I SAY NOTHING” + + +When he had been a young man, everybody used to call Alexander Romanov +Shasha; at that time he was living in the settlement of Limovo, in an +iron-roofed house that stood facing the common, and his beatings were +administered to him by his father, Roman. + +Roman deemed himself the first man in all that district,--he used +to shove his hand out to all the gentry and the squires whenever he +would meet them. He had a store in the settlement, and a mill beyond +it; but the way he got richer and richer was by buying up groves from +the land-owners and then cutting them down. Makar, his own brother, +had nothing to eat; all in tatters, he might be hobbling over the +common, and, doffing his hat meekly, would say: “Greetings, brother.” +But Roman, well-fed, looking like a deacon, would answer him from his +stoop: “Don’t you brother me, you dolt. You’ve made your bow, so just +keep on going on your way.” What, then, must have been the feelings of +the sole heir of such a man? He used to stroll through the village in a +cap that had come from the city; in a sleeveless overcoat of the finest +broadcloth, in boots with patent-leather tops. He was all the time +cracking polly-seeds, and playing polkas on an expensive accordeon. +Whenever he met any wenches or young lads,--all his relatives, all +consanguine, everyone of them,--he would be followed by that sort of +gaze from which celebrities feel a chill run down their back. But he +would meet such a gaze with a surly--even a ferocious--one; all his +youth seemed to have passed in a preparation for that rôle in which he +attained such perfection later on. + +Roman, at the height of his prosperity, began to decline in strength, +and to get muddled in his affairs. Grizzled, bearded, pot-bellied, clad +in a sleeveless overcoat of casinette that resembled an under-cassock, +it was only when he was in his cups that he plucked up heart; but when +sober he was always despondent and deliberately churlish. He still +retained his glory and his might. Out on the common, near the church, +right opposite his windows, he had built a school; he was trustee over +it, and could at any instant he liked make the teacher grovel at his +feet. He was still able to give goods on credit to the land-owners; +to give bribes to the police inspector, without the least necessity; +he could still regale one with smoked sprats, with a pickled lobster +in a rusty can, with sherry and with wine from Tsimliyan, which is +something like champagne,--and, even as he entertained, he would yell, +if his guest were of the humbler sort: “Drink, you blockhead!” But it +surely was high time to supplant him. But who could do it? That was +just it,--there was no supplanting him. Shasha was withdrawing more +and more into his rôle of a man upon whom had been inflicted an insult +which could be wiped out only by blood, and his relations with Roman +resolved themselves merely into Roman’s dragging him around by his +“temples.” Shasha, to use Roman’s words, could make an angel lose his +patience,--it was impossible not to be dragging him around. And drag +him around Roman did. But the more he dragged him, the more unbearable +did Shasha become. + +Who but he should have taken pride in the house, the might, the ways +of his father? His father would yell at him, in the presence of +guests: “Go on, now, be a trifle more free and easy, you dolt!” But +then, that was the way of those whom his father imitated, the way of +the merchants; and was it not a matter for the highest pride to feel +one’s self a merchant’s son? At times his father would even boast +about him, self-complacently saying to the guest: “Wait, I’ll show +youse my son!”--and would shout all over the house: “Shash, c’mon +over here,--Mikolai Mikhalich wants to have a look at ye!” But, oh, +the way Shasha would enter the room where his father and the guest +were sitting! He would enter with his face crimsoning, glowering from +underneath his beetling and knit eye-brows, holding his arms stiffly +akimbo, like a pretzel, and stepping still more stiffly, toeing in, +and as elegantly as if he, were dancing the fifth figure of the +quadrille,--and, having made a scraping bow to the guest, he would +instantly rush backward to the window, toward the lintel of the door; +blowing out his nostrils, he would tear his hang-nails with his teeth, +and, in the expectation of an affront from the visitor, answered all +questions with the most ludicrous brevity and abruptness.... How, then, +could one refrain from beating him? The guest would depart; Roman, +having seen him off, would walk up to Shasha without a word, and, +swinging back his arm, would grab Shasha fast by his hair. Without a +word, Shasha would extricate his head out of his father’s fingers, and, +having run out into the anteroom, would smite his bosom with his fist: + +“All r-r-right, father! I say nothing! I always say nothing!” he would +hiss ominously. + +“Why, she-animal that you are!” Roman would bawl at him. “Why, it’s for +this same silence and hoiti-toitiness that I’m a-beating you of! So, +then, you’re striving for the beating yourself? Why? Wherefore?” + +“My ashes when I’m laid in my grave shall know it all!” Shasha would +answer ferociously and enigmatically. + +One could have wagered his head that he must have been in an excellent +state of feelings. Had he not been born with a golden spoon in his +mouth? He would order new boots two or three times in a year; he never +ran short of money or of polly-seeds; he would promenade the main +street with the teacher, and he played on the harmonica better and +more spiritedly than everybody else; the wenches used to sing their +“heart-breaking” songs without taking their languishing eyes off him. +While in the fall, in the winter, he would pay court at evening parties +to the coquettish daughters of the priest, to the daughters of the +police inspector, dancing with them to the sounds of a talking machine; +he was usher at weddings, donning a frock-coat, starched shirt, and +new, tight shoes. But then, even his courting was somehow caustic, +offhand. But what’s the use! Even when all by himself, looking in the +mirror as he whipped up his browny fleece with a metallic comb, he +would squint at himself like some monster. His nose was squashed, his +voice hoarse, his appearance that of a convict,--the _moujiks_ used +to call him a hangman.... No great honour, that, you would think. +But no,--he took a delight even in that. “The low-down devil!” the +_moujiks_ would say. “Nothing ever pleases him; everything ain’t his +way, everything ain’t right!” And he, with all his might, tried to +justify these by-names. “Who? Is it Shasha you mean by low-down?” Roman +would ask with indignation. “Why, you can pave a pavement with blocks +the likes of him! He’s a fool, a play-actor, a born loafer,--and that’s +all there is to it! What’s he putting on airs for? What the devil is +he after?” But Shasha just looked on with a venomous smile, and never +let a word out. “Well, now, just take a look at him,--do!” Roman was +saying. “Just look what he’s trying to make out of himself!” But Shasha +only knit his eye-brows, making them turn up higher and higher; more +and more rapidly did he bite his nails, and by now was convinced even +himself that something dreadful was coming to a head within him. “Oh, +father!” he would say, as though unable to hold out. “Oh, but I would +like to tell you a certain thing!” Roman, despondent, with sagging +pouches under his eyes, would smile like a martyr: “Well, what sort of +a thing is it? Eh? Well, now, say it?” “Who, me?” Shasha would ask, +throwing a glance at him from underneath his eyebrows. “Yes, you!” “My +ashes when I’m laid in my grave shall know it all!” “But what is it +that they’ll know? Are you drunk, you good-for-nought?” “Drunk!” Shasha +would answer. “Drunk? I say nothing. I al-ways say nothing!” And, +almost weeping, Roman would again advance upon him, like a bear; would +again catch him by the head, and, bending it down, would drag him by +the hair in an excruciating transport. + +From his twentieth year to his twenty-fifth, Shasha was almost never +beaten,--unless it were sort of casually, of course. But he made +up for this with something else. He sought other occasions for +self-torture,--and of occasions there were as many as he wanted. + +He married--and it was a splendid match--the daughter of the manager +of a great estate which belonged to a nobleman; his bride was a +laughing, freckled girl, rather pretty. His marriage was celebrated +magnificently. The owners of the estate resided abroad; therefore +Shasha was able to go to the wedding ceremony in their carriage, and +the priest, out of respect to this carriage, felicitated him upon his +lawful marriage with especial eloquence and servility, although it +did seem to Shasha that he was being made fun of. The wedding feast, +too, was held in the owners’ house. Wine flowed like a river. Roman, +amid the general clamour of delight, started in to dance, shaking the +parquetry, the mirrors and the chandeliers. The owners’ flunky gave +an excellent imitation of a railroad train: he began with a rumbling +whistle through his fingers, then started in beating out, with his +feet, the slow and heavy clatter of a train constantly increasing +its momentum, and wound up with a riotous gallop. The sexton, having +imbibed too much cognac at the feast, died on his way home. The deacon, +having fallen down in his own yard into some half-liquid manure, +was almost trampled to death by his sheep. The nastiest of autumn +dawns, pallidly blue, looked in through the fog into the smoke-filled +seigniorial halls,--but the lights were still burning there; the +talking machine, now grown hoarse, was still gurgling out now the +_Lezguinka_, now _The Lancers_; the ushers, all moist from the heat +and their exertions, were still yelling as they supervised the dances; +while the eyes of the young ladies grew glazed from fatigue, and the +soles of their white slippers flew off as they danced.... But Shasha +did not spare even his own high celebration; having convinced himself +that he was infernally jealous of his young wife and a certain rather +young land-owner, he, feigning intoxication, suddenly stepped upon the +long train of her dress during a waltz, and tore it off with a ripping +sound. And after that he made a rush for a knife, trying to cut his +own throat, and, upon being disarmed, he sobbed wildly, tearing off +his starched collar and his white tie, calling upon the memory of his +departed mother.... As for his behaviour after the wedding,--Shasha did +everything that lay in his power to wreck his own domestic well-being, +and to hasten the ruin of Roman. + +Having attained the zenith, Roman was inevitably bound, as is always +the case in Russia, to start rolling downward again, toward his +former lowly lair. Soon after the wedding it turned out that he was +entirely entangled, head and foot, in the toils of debt. He became +awesome. His grizzled beard turned white. His face came to resemble +a dirty-gray, milked-out udder. His eyes died out. His belly, grown +flabby, hung down. But Shasha rejoiced malignantly: “I told you so! I +told you so!”--and was finishing him off; he rioted, kicked up rows, +demanded a winding up of Roman’s affairs. And Roman, turning green +from wrath, would rise up against him like a bear, thirsting to maim +him,--but he no longer could; he no longer could! Crushed down by the +thought of approaching disgrace, of approaching poverty, he took to +drinking harder and harder. Having lost all shame, he got his mistress +(a cook and a soldier’s wife), into his own house. Shasha, not being +contented with his wife, lived with her too, just to spite him. As +for his wife, he used to exhaust her with his jealousy and his scares; +he used to stay away from the house and to send _moujiks_ with notes +to her, upon which notes would be written: “Forgive me in death; I +send my blessings to the children,”--and below there would be drawn a +grave with a cross. His wife was for a long while deluged with tears. +And then she got together with the teacher, and now gave Shasha every +reason to be saying “All r-r-right! Only my ashes when I’m laid in +my grave will know it all!” The upshot of it all was, that Roman was +laid low by a stroke of paralysis; that only the wind-mill beyond the +settlement was left out of all his wealth; that Shasha’s wife, taking +the children with her, fled to her father, who had gone to the city of +Skopin. The while Shasha, drinking deep of the delicious draught of his +misfortunes, treating everything and everybody with merciless criticism +and opprobrium, was absenting himself in the village, drinking every +bit as hard as his father, she pulled up stakes and disappeared. + +Roman left the settlement for his mill beggared and barely alive. +Beggared and widowed, gnashing his teeth with rage, Shasha followed him +out of the village. What with toiling and moiling, even the mill would +not have been a bad thing to live by. But how was Shasha to be bothered +with it! How could you expect him to have the strength of getting up +on his feet after the awful finishing stroke fate had dealt him! Even +formerly he,--not understood, not appreciated, condemned to live in the +midst of enemies and ill-wishers,--had had but one recourse left him: +to say nothing, and again to say nothing, and to say nothing without +end. And now? Why, he could have piled up thousands from this mill +alone; there would have been no getting into it for the carts full of +grain surrounding it,--if he only had two or three hundred to get him a +new shaft and new mill-stones.... Yes, but where was a body to get that +money? It’s only into the hands of fools that good luck plays; but you +take an able, sensible man, and Fate will twist him into a ram’s horn. +Well, let it,--let it! “I say nothing,” Shasha would say, malignantly +rejoicing; “I al-ways say nothing!” + +The broken trough,[14] familiar to him and appropriate to his former +status of a _moujik_, again appeared before Roman in place of palatial +chambers. Nor did the rub lie at all in the fact that, instead of +smoked sprats and Tsimliyan wine, a big slice of black bread and a +wooden vessel of water turned up on his table,--he would have eaten +such food with his former relish; the rub was in the torments of his +pride,--the most cruel of all human torments. In a big hut, leaning +all to one side, with an earthen floor and with holes in its corners, +atop the bare oven,--there did Roman sleep now. In the morning he would +crawl out beyond the threshold, with a tall staff in his hands. With +pig-weeds and high rank grass was the outside of the hut overgrown; +stinging nettles choked up the huge shell of the wide-open wind-mill. +All this stood out on the bare ridge of the plains, nigh the highway. +And Roman would go out to the edge of the road, and would place his +trembling, cold paws upon his staff. He was without a hat; the wind +tangled up his gray, shaggy locks, his gray beard,--the beard of a +_moujik_ Job. He was bare-footed, in short drawers of striped ticking, +in a long blouse filthy from cinders and the rubbish of the oven. His +legs were black and thin, his torso huge and emaciated. Those whom he +had regaled and lectured at one time now rode past him. And Roman--it +was not for nothing that Shasha had sprung from his loins--even +rejoiced that folks saw him in poverty, in disgrace, and he bowed to +the ground before them. And of evenings he would stand in the dark hut +before a little painted board hung up in a corner, and with heavy sighs +bowed before it still lower then he did before men, saying his prayers +now in a whisper, now loudly--warmly and grievously thanking God for +all that He had visited upon him, a miserable, stricken old man.... +Shasha, now, enjoyed his humiliation in a gayer fashion, in low-down +inns, in low-down pot-houses, drinking away the last scanty remnants +of their former prosperity, and paying for his long tongue by being +beaten.... + +[14] The reference here is to a famous folk-tale,--best known in +Pushkin’s version, _The Little Gold Fish_. A fisherman, having caught +a little gold fish, is promised the fulfillment of all his wishes for +its release. All his demands, instigated by his wife, are granted, +beginning with a substitution of a new trough for a broken one, and +up to the attainment of rank and wealth; but finally the wife insists +upon the fulfillment of a wish so insolent that, upon his return from +interviewing his benefactress, the fisherman finds his wife sitting at +the same old broken trough, before his former humble hut. _Trans._ + +Then, from his twenty-fifth year on, his beatings became regular, +administered to him upon a previously designated day; and no longer was +he beaten the way his father used to beat him; he was beaten with heels +now, until he would lose consciousness. + +The soldier’s wife remained faithful to the house of Roman. She +also moved to the mill. And when Roman died--oh, how proud (with a +malignantly joyous pride) Shasha was over this calamity,--she passed +into Shasha’s hands openly. But in the meanwhile her lawful husband +had come home from service. She was as needful to him as snow in +the summertime; but never the less he held it to be his most sacred +duty and his inalienable right to avenge his sullied honour. And he +ingeniously timed this revenge with the day of the folk-festival at +Limovo. + +Every year, on the fifteenth of July, on a great holiday popularly +called the Kiriki, a fair is held in Limovo. Rain pours down in chill +torrents; one is reminded of the summer only by the rooks in the +fields, by the height and the density of the grains and the grasses, +and also by the sky-larks, that sing above them in the rain and are +blown aslant by the wind. But on the common at Limovo a little nomadic +city of tents is already springing up. The traders from the city have +arrived,--and it is an unaccustomed, strange sight to see in the +settlement these city people, in their long-skirted coats. In building +upon the common, and making it congested, they have changed the simple +village picture with their thronging, their big, strong carts laden +with goods; together with these goods they have brought the atmosphere +of an Asiatic bazaar; their samovars smoke, and their braziers emit the +fumes of frying mutton.... On the fifteenth, since the early morn, they +are already standing behind their counters; while the _moujiks_ with +their women-folk and little ones keep on streaming in, flocking from +all directions toward the village; they have dammed up the common so +that there isn’t room for a pin to fall. And above all this swarming, +babel, hubbub, and creak of carts, booms the festal pealing of bells, +summoning to mass. + +To the sound of these bells, in full view of all the folks riding +through the dirty by-lane that leads past the wind-mill, Shasha +is standing nigh his threshold; his belt is loose, and, bending +downward, he holds a wooden vessel with water in one hand and with +the other hand, which is wet, he is rubbing his bearded, pock-marked +face, all puffy from sleep. How little does this thick-set _moujik_ +in broken boots resemble the former Shasha! He appears calmer than +before, yet still more morose. His hair is fearfully thick even now, +but it is already shaggy, like a _moujik’s_. Having washed himself, +he tears his hair apart with a wooden comb, combs out his tangled +round beard, clears his throat hoarsely, and eyes his little mirror +askance,--eyes his broad, porous face, with the squashed nose. He +hasn’t forgotten that he looks like a hangman. And really, he does +look like one,--especially now. Having combed himself, he puts on a +blouse that he saves for gala occasions,--it is of red calico, and its +dye will come off on his body when he will begin to perspire. On week +days he becomes stultified from ennui, from over-sleeping, from the +fact that no one any longer pays any attention to him, or listens to +him; his boasting about his former state, his hints about that which +was supposed to lurk within his soul, and his foul tattling about his +runaway wife, have all long since palled upon everybody. But to-day +is a holiday; to-day people would look with curiosity upon him, the +erstwhile man of wealth now walking around on his uppers; to-day he +would be playing before an enormous crowd, to-day he would be fearfully +beaten,--beaten until he would lose conscience,--right before the eyes +of all this crowd.... And lo, he is already entering into his rôle; +he is already excited; his jaws are tightly clenched; his eye-brows +are distorted.... Having togged himself out, he puts on a rusty cap, +and, with a constrained step, resolutely and steadily sets out for the +village. + +The strangest part of all is the piety with which he begins this +day. He goes directly toward the church, and, without looking at +anybody, but with all his being feeling upon him the eyes of everybody +surrounding him, he bows and makes the sign of the cross with all his +might. In the church he shoves his way to the very ambo, where at one +time he had had his own rightful place, and at that moment he is filled +to the marrow of his bones with contempt for the _moujiks_, reminding +them briefly and sternly, like one having authority, that it wouldn’t +be a bad idea for them to wake up and stand aside. And the _moujiks_ +hastily comply. Glowering like a bull from underneath his eye-brows +at the officiating priests and the icons, he prays frenziedly and +austerely until the very end of the mass, haughtily demonstrating to +everybody that he is the only one who knows just the right time to +bow and to make the sign of the cross. Just as austerely does he walk +through the fair after the mass, proud of the fact that he had already +had a drink or two, that he could approach some trader in his tent as +an equal, shaking his hand and leaning over the counter, scooping up a +handful of polly-seeds and bothering the trader with his conversations +about the city, and about the state of trade.... He was also proud of +the fact that he could at times yell at the droves of wenches, pressing +one another against the counter, like sheep; or at some _moujik_ that, +with a bag under his arm,--there would be a young pig squirming around +in that bag,--has already tested all the penny whistles, all the mouth +organs, and could not, for the life of him, decide which one to take. +The people, pouring out of the church, have flooded the common; the +belfries are pealing forth their chimes; the beggars are snufflingly +clamorous; the live-stock--which is also bought and sold during the +Kiriki--bleats and hee-haws; and in the dense crowd, spitting out +polly-seed shells and slipping up in the mire between the tents, there +are already many intoxicated men. Shasha has already managed to drink +some more, and feels that the right time has come. Having had his +fill of talking with the traders, he goes with resolute steps toward +the carrousels. A countless multitude of people has gathered there, +watching, until their heads, too, begin to go ’round and ’round, +the wooden horses and their riders. Almost all of Limovo is there, +and, towering a head taller above everybody, is the soldier’s wife’s +husband. Shasha’s hands grow cold; his lips quiver; but he pretends not +to notice his foe. He approaches his acquaintances, pulls a bottle out +of his pocket, regales anybody who comes along, and drinks himself. He +talks a great deal, and loudly; he smokes, and laughs unnaturally and +malevolently; but all the while he is on the alert, waiting.... And +now, pretending to be hopelessly drunk, in a new cap with the store’s +price tag still showing white upon it, clean shaven, well-fed, with +sleepy blue eyes, the soldier advances straight upon Shasha, and +with all his momentum, as though without seeing him, strikes him in +the chest with his shoulder. Shasha, gritting his teeth, steps to one +side and continues his conversation. But the soldier comes back, again +passes him,--and once more hits him in the chest with his shoulder! +Whereupon, as though unable to bear such insolence, Shasha distorts his +face,--distorted enough without that,--and drawls out through his teeth: + +“E-eh, young fellow! Watch out that I don’t shove you in my own way!” + +And the soldier, instantly checking his headlong progress, suddenly +staggers backward and roars out furiously: + +“What’s ’at?” + +Amid the hubbub and rumble of the fair, amid the clanging of the +carrousel bells and the delighted, hypocritically-sympathizing shouts +of the oh’ing and parting crowd, the soldier stuns Shasha and draws his +blood with the very first blow. Shasha, trying to get his fingers into +the soldier’s mouth, true to an old usage of the _moujiks_, in order to +tear his lips, pounces upon him like a beast,--and instantly falls down +in the mire as if he were dead, underneath the iron-shod heels that +beat heavily upon his chest, upon his shaggy head, upon his nose, upon +his eyes,--already glazed, as in a ram with his throat cut. And all +the folks “oh” and “ah” and wonder: “There’s a queer, incomprehensible +fellow for you! Why, he knew, he knew beforehand how this matter would +end! Why did he go into it, then?” And truly,--why did he? And toward +what, in general, is he so insistently and undeviatingly heading, +as he devastates his ruined dwelling from day to day, endeavouring +to eradicate even to the last atom the very traces of that which +was created, in such an unprecedented manner, by the uncouth genius +of Roman, and ceaselessly thirsts after humiliations, disgrace, and +beatings? + +Within the church enclosure, on the way to the door of the chapel, +there were some horrible specimens of humanity, standing ranged in two +files. In her yearning for self-torture; in her yearning-loathing of +the curbing bit, of toil, of her mode of existence; in her infatuation +with all sorts of hideous visages (both those of the tragedian and +of the scaramouche), in her dark, criminal desires, in her lack of +will power, her eternal disquiet, in her misfortunes, sorrows and +poverty,--Russia breeds these people from of old, and without end. +In Limovo alone some half-hundred of them gather. And what faces are +these, what heads! Just as if they had come out of the crude wood-cuts +made in Kiev, which depict both fiends and the striving anchorites of +the Mother-Desert. There are ancients with such withered heads, with +such scant locks of long gray hair, with such noses, as thin as thin +can be, and with the slits of their unseeing eyes so deeply fallen in, +that they seem to have lain for centuries in the caverns where they had +been walled up still in the time of the Kiev princes.... And they had +come out of there in half-rotted tatters; they had thrown upon their +remains their beggars’ wallets, fastening them cross-wise behind their +shoulders with odd bits of rope, and had set off on their wanderings +from one end of Russia to the other, through her forests, over her +steppes, in the winds of her steppes.... + +There are lantern-jawed blind men,--sturdy and squat _moujiks_, that +look just like pilloried convicts who have killed their scores of +souls,--these have solid, square heads, their faces seem to have been +hacked out by an axe, and their bare legs are swollen with livid blood +and are unnaturally short, even as their arms are. There are common +idiots, huge of shoulder and of leg. There are malignant dwarfs with +bird-like faces. There are wedge-headed hunch-backs, who seem to be +wearing pointed caps made out of horse-hair. There are monstrous +marasmi, squatting back on their crooked legs like terriers. There are +foreheads squeezed in at the sides and forming skulls that look like +the cap of an acorn. There are bony old women, without a vestige of +a nose,--for all the world like Death itself.... And all this mass, +prominently displaying its tatters, its sores and cankers, vociferate +in a Bulgarian, old-church sing-song, vociferates in rough basses, +and castrated altos, and indescribably depraved tenors, about Lazarus +and his sores, about Alexei the Man of God, who also, thirsting after +poverty and martyrdom, did forsake his father’s roof, “knowing not +whither he went....” + +All these people, with their eye-brows writhing above their dark eyes, +with an intuition, an instinct, as keen as that of certain primary +sea creatures, instantly sense, surmise, the approach of a generous +hand; and by now they have already grabbed up a not unconsiderable +quantity of bread-crusts, of round cracknels, and of the _moujiks’_ +coppers, grown green from contact with their execrable tobacco. After +mass, with a chanting still more vigorous and importunate, they spread +through the sea of the people, through the fair. The cripples, too, +move after them,--legless creatures, crawling on their bottoms and +on all fours, or lying in their eternal beds, in little carts. Here +is one of these little carts. In it is a little bit of a man, about +forty years of age, with his ears tied up in a woman’s kerchief; his +milky-blue eyes are calm, and he has stuck out of his old rags a thin +little hand,--violet-coloured, six-fingered. He is pulled about by +a bright-eyed little lad, with exceedingly pointed little ears, and +with fox-like down upon his head. All around him is a multitude of the +fraternity, all of them, for some reason or other, also tied up with +kerchiefs. And out of all this fraternity one _moujik_ with a large +white face stands out he is all broken up, all maimed; there is no +bottom to him at all, and he has on but one fusty bast shoe. Probably, +he, too, had been beaten-up somewheres as thoroughly as Shasha: his +entire kerchief, his ear, his neck and one shoulder are all in caked +blood. In his long bag there are pieces of raw meat, cooked bits of +mutton, bread crusts, and millet. His seat, now, is sewn up with a bit +of leather,--and twisting himself all up, he squirms and starts off, on +and on over the mire, extending in front of him his unshod foot, his +leg half-bare, in lime-covered scabs that are oozing with matter and +pasted over with strips of burdock. + +“Look ye, ye faithful,--look and behold ye! This is reckoned, from of +old, as the disease of leprosy!” a freckled tatterdemallion beside him +is shouting in a rapid recitave, which is right rollicking.... + +And it is toward these people that Shasha is heading. He lives for some +two or three years more in his mill; he celebrates three or four fairs +more; he again enters into battle with the soldier three or four times: +kind-hearted folks bring him to by throwing water out of wooden tubs +upon him as he lies without breath or speech; without opening his eyes, +he drags his wet head over the ground, back and forth, and moans out +painfully through his clenched teeth. + +“All r-r-right, good folks! I say nothing! I al-ways say nothing!” + +Then he is brought to the mill; he lies for two weeks over the stove, +little by little getting better, and soon he is again traipsing around +the low-down inns; he brags, he lies, he curses out everybody and +everything, he smites his breast with his fists, threatening all his +foes,--but the soldier especially. But once the Kiriki turn out to +be unfortunate,--the soldier breaks Shasha’s arm with his heel, and +shatters the bridge of his nose, and knocks out his eyes. Lo, now +Shasha is both blind and a cripple. The soldier’s wife abandons him; +his mill, his land, is taken by good folks for his debts. And now +Shasha is safe in harbour; now he is a fully-privileged member of +the horde of beggars that stand in the church enclosure during the +Kiriki,--bone of its bone, flesh of its flesh. All in tatters, with a +round and thick beard, with his head clipped so closely that it looks +like a hedge-hog, he wildly distorts his eye-brows over his empty, +drawn-over sockets, and hoarsely bawls in time with the others the +beggars’ soul-wringing canticles. The chorus sombrely rends the air, to +the best of each member’s ability, and the voices of the leader stand +out resonantly, as they bawl out every syllable: + + There once lived three sisters; there were once three Marys of Egypt,-- + In three parts did they their wealth divide: + One part was set aside for the blind and the sick; + One part was set aside for prisons, for dark dungeons; + The third part was set aside for churches, for cathedrals.... + +Shasha’s harsh voice chimes in, soaring above that of the others: + + The time will come + When the earth, the sky shall be shaken; + The least stones shall crumble, + The Lord’s thrones shall tumble, + The sun and the moon shall grow dim,-- + And the Lord shall cause a river of fire to flow.... + +And blending, swelling, attaining a sinister and a triumphant force, +the entire choir becomes throatily, sonorously clamorous: + + Mi-cha-el the Arch-angel, + Shall make all earthly creatures perish; + He shall blow his trumpets, + He shall say to all mankind: + Ye had your life and being, + Having your own free will; + Ye did shun church-going,-- + At matins ye were sleeping, + At vespers ye were eating,-- + Your paradise stands ready: + Fires never dying, + Tortures past all bearing! + +_1913._ + + + + +DEATH + + +In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate!... + +This is a tale of the death of a prophet,--peace to his ashes!--told +that the doubters may be convinced of the need for submission to The +Leader. + +“We have never beheld Him, nor do we behold Him now,” say they. But the +sun is not at fault in that vision has been denied to the eyes of a +bat. The heart of man aye seeketh faith and protection. But who would +seek protection from an owl? It is better to dream of the shadow of the +phœnix, even though the phœnix may never have existed in this world. +But the protecting shadow of the Creator exists since the start of time. + +The black-eared jackal slinks in the steps of a lion: the lion knoweth +where the prey is, and the black-eared one findeth sustenance in the +remnants of the lion’s repast. Thus did the Hebrews follow their +prophet out of the land of Egypt. Through the favour of God did he +fulfill the mighty deed he had set out to do. + +In his infancy he had experienced the delight of slumber, of awakening, +of endearment. The daughter of the king had rocked him in her arms, +dark and rounded, smooth as a snake, but as warm as fruit in the sun. +Joyously and intently did her dark eyes gaze upon him, as they shone +above him; and impulsively did she kiss him, pressing him to her cold +breasts; she would pretend to strangle him, as is the wont of all +maidens. When recalling the like, many a one exclaims within his heart: +“Why was I not a youth then!” But there is a time for all things. + +The Pharaoh did bestow upon him a ring with a seal of authority, and +did clothe him in the garments of a courtier. When the freshness +of the morning is supplanted by the warmth of the sun; when, in +the marketplace, the fennel is sprinkled to draw the scent of the +purchaser; when there is a smell of burning peat floating from the +chimneys, and a smell of fog from the direction of the great river, +upon which towering white sails slowly float by, two abreast, the while +a thin-bearded buffalo, as dove-coloured and rough-skinned as a swine, +dully contemplates them, as he arises from the slime near the bank,--at +such a time the prophet, conscious of his powers and alertness, did +ride about in his chariot, overlooking the labours in the fields, and +had the right to lash the lazy ones over the head with his scourge, +to yell at them until he became red in the face, so that he might +afterwards, in the sweet consciousness of a duty fulfilled, repose in +the light shade of the palms, upon a dry dike among the canals. + +Having attained manhood, he spent ten years in wedlock. He shared his +couch with a woman rich and well-born; he took his pleasure of her +in the night,--in the daytime his pleasure lay in his orders and his +cares, in drink and food, in the buoyancy of his body, that liked +equally well both the dry sultriness of an inner court, emanating from +its heated slabs of stone, and the cool breath of a breeze throughout +the house, blowing from the river and from the blossoming gardens of +its island. He took pride in his children, in his household, in the +respect shown to him of all men. And he was happy, even as many others +are. But an unseen hand was making taut the bow of his life; it was +testing the bow-string and the wood, preparing to loose the arrows of +truth. And ten years more did he pass in the striving of his mind and +his heart, in the silent acquirement of the wisdom of Egypt; for the +wall is preceded by the foundation, and speech, by thought. And he +hath said of the heathen priests: “Ye men of folly! Slaves, tormented +by heat, may be forgiven for raising their arms toward the sun, and +supplicating it as God. But the sun is not God. None may behold God. He +is beyond our comprehension. He may only be sensed. There is but one +God. He hath no offspring.” Whereupon the Pharaoh was possessed by a +fury, even as the _gour_, the wild-ass, is overtaken by his madness. +“Who is he that dares to live and to believe without my sanction?” he +exclaimed. “He hath no precious rings upon his fingers, nor is there +a necklace about his neck. He is but my slave. Therefore shall I set +up a persecution of him and of all his tribe. I shall flash like the +lightning, I shall deafen like thunder.” But the prophet gathered his +strength together, even as a man that standeth before the steep ascent +of a hill, and went upon his way, fearless and assured. + +Musk is brayed, aloes are put in the fire, that they might give forth +their perfume. A diver would never pluck a single pearl-bearing +shell, were he to fear holding in his breath as he plunges into the +sea. And when the time had come to lift up the heaviest stone for +the structure, to throw it up on the knee, to clasp it as firmly as +possible and to carry it, the prophet did lift it, so strenuously +that he felt a pain in his groin. And for forty years did he carry it +in the desert, ever at a strain, ever enduring fatigue, and joyous +in the consciousness that he was working the will of God, and not of +the Pharaoh. And, having carried it to the required spot, to the spot +indicated by the Builder, he did cast down the stone, so that it lay +even and flush; and he did straighten up, and did wipe the sweat from +his face, with a trembling arm that had grown weak and was aching to +the very shoulder. + +And the time came for him to die. + +He had attained to a knowledge of the veritable God. He had become +convinced that it was madness to represent Him in the form of idols +made of stone, of clay, and of metal. God had put upon him the task of +delivering the Hebrew nation out of bondage and from the temptation of +idolatry,--and he had rent asunder the silken nets of this world, he +had risen up and had conquered in the wrestling. God had put him to the +proof,--for forty years to be a chieftain for the refractory and the +weak, to command and instruct in a desert that held nothing but hunger +and sultriness. And for forty years he had been as mighty as a king; as +tireless as a day-labourer burthened with a multitude of children; as +needy as a shepherd; brawny and tall as a wrestler, strong and tawny +as a lion. His body, girt only about the loins with an animal pelt, +had become black from the sun and the wind, while his feet had become +rough and callous, like those of a camel. In his old age he had become +awesome to men, and none of them deemed him mortal. But his hour did +approach at last. + +O ye who hearken! In The Book it is written: “All are conceived in +the lap of truth,--it is the parents that make Hebrews, Christians, +Fire-Worshippers out of the children.” But a sage is like a blind man: +he feeleth every stone in his path, choosing the path that is the right +one; he raiseth his face upward, yearning for the sole source of light +and warmth. He considereth life, and he considereth death, lessening +his fear before the latter. And there have been not a few of those who +have received the chalice of the inevitable with equanimity; there have +also been those who have said: “It is even as sweet as the chalice of +life.” However, it is but the fool that yearneth for the chalice of +death during life,--such a one is loathsome to behold. But he also is +a fool that giveth no thought to the inevitable, that forgetteth that +all mortals ought to have but one Beloved, Who possesseth clemency and +demandeth submission. O ye who hearken! Hearken attentively, as man +ought always to hearken to man; and, as ye hearken, reflect. For, as +we speak, we are but mixing the good words of others with the passable +ones of our own, dealing with that which is foreign to none of us; and +the purpose of our speech is consolation. + +In The Book it is written: “I that am God am nearer to man than the +artery that sendeth him slumber.” God is compassionate. He knoweth what +is good for us and what is bad. He did create us mortal, yet we think +of resisting death. Vain striving! Have ye heard at what cost Iscander +the Two-Horned attained the Land of Darkness? And yet, he did not +succeed in quaffing of the water of eternal life, of which he had been +told: It is to be found in the Land of Darkness. The Angel of the Winds +is not perturbed by the fact that his wings may extinguish the lamp of +some poor widow. The Messenger of Death heeds neither the prayer of +a shepherd nor the outcry of a sovereign. Bide a while: earth shall +devour the brains within our skulls, that are now filled with projects. +Death is no Mogul, and thou art no Atabek-Abou-Bekr: thou canst not +ransom thyself with gold from Death. Therefore, seek ye consolation. + +The prophet did oppose the will of God in the desert, and heavy as +his punishment for his disobedience: God forbade him to enter the +Promised Land. The prophet did wax wroth in spirit that he was mortal, +and that death was already nigh him, for he was old. Spake he: “I +shall do single combat with it.” At noonday, passing through the camp +of the Hebrews in the mountains of Moab, he did look, and beheld not +his shadow upon the white stones nigh him. And he was seized with a +fit of trembling from fear, and his head was confused, like that of +a man that is fever-stricken. Thereupon he did go toward his tent, +with the steps of a wounded beast advancing upon its adversary. And +he girt a sword about him, and did command food to be brought to him. +And he did eat much thereof, full greedily, till that he was sated. +And he did feel aches and nausea, as though from poison, as though +from the fruit plucked from the tree of hell; and he did wax green in +the face, and was bathed in sweat, even as a woman in travail; and +he did lie down upon the ground, crying out wildly: “Behold, I am +dying,--bare your swords and arise in my defense!” Thus did he cry out +upon the first day. On the second, his aches did wax greater, and he +began to implore, moaning and wrathful: “Summon a physician for me!” +But when the physician had revealed his impotence, and the third day +had come, the prophet uttered low: “Oh, have mercy upon me! Death is +unconquerable!” And he did grow weaker, and fell into a slumber, and +did sleep through all the day, and his aches did depart from him. And, +having come to, he beheld that it was already night and that he was +alone, and again did he feel the delight of living, and the sorrow of +parting with life. Whereupon two dark angels did enter in to him, that +they might console and prepare him. + +One sat down at the head of the couch; the other, at the feet of the +prophet. “Speak!” said they. But he kept silent and made no reply to +them, for he was in deep thought. He gazed out into the night, beyond +the raised side of the tent, sensing their presence with dread, for +truth had not yet entered within all his veins. And it was so quiet in +the tent and the desert that all the three could hear the rustling of +the hot wind as it swept by in the darkness. And the stars were flaming +sombrely, as on all sultry nights. + +“God is compassionate to all His creatures,” spake the angel who was +sitting at the head of the prophet’s couch. + +“Yet here is a man in torment; he was dying, and is dying now,” spake +the angel sitting at the prophet’s feet. + +They wanted to test the prophet, but he understood this. And he made +answer, in his thoughts: + +“This was not death, but an illness, a chastisement. Is it not better +to think thus? For he that hath tasted of death cannot speak about it. +We know not what it is.” + +“The sun is the source of life,” spake the angel sitting at the head of +the couch. + +“But then, it is also as deadly as the horned viper,” spake the angel +seated opposite him. + +They wanted to test the prophet, but he understood this. And he made +answer, in his thoughts: + +“We do not know God’s purpose. But He is benign, and His purpose also +is benign. Is it not better to think thus? Man ought to dedicate his +every moment to life, recalling death only that he may weigh all his +deeds upon its scales, and that he may meet the inevitable hour without +fear. How would he that trades know that he is dealing fairly with him +that buys, how would he know that he is giving him that which is his +due, if there were no scales? How would a man spend his day, if his +heart were never to be forsaken by indignation over the thought that +the sun would sink at its wonted hour, and if he were to be possessed +with the desire of preventing it? He would be insane and futile.” + +“The slumber of the dead is sweet,” spake the angel sitting at the head +of the couch. + +“But, just now, a man has died in the camp of the Hebrews,--happy, +young, beloved,” spake the angel seated opposite him. “Just hearken: +there is the rustle of the hot wind; the stars flame sombrely; and the +hyænas whine and whimper in their evil joy, hurriedly digging open +the grave, sniffing its stench and anticipating the devouring of his +entrails. But the sorrow of the dead man’s near ones is more dreadful +than the grave itself.” + +They wanted to test the prophet, and they did succeed in wounding his +heart with the last. But, in his thoughts, he spake to them: + +“I am recalling every moment of my life; every moment of my sweet +childhood, my joyous youth, my laborious manhood--and I lament +them. Ye speak of the grave,--and my hands grow chill from fear. +I beseech ye,--console me not, for consolation depriveth one of +courage. I beseech ye,--remind me not of the flesh, for it will turn +to corruption. Is it not better to think otherwise? Even his halting +place, in a vale sheltered from the winds, where he may have passed but +a day, a man will abandon with regret; but it is his duty to go on, if +to go on be necessary. Speaking with dread of the grave, are we not +speaking in the words of the ancients, that knew the flesh, but knew +not God and the immortality of souls? Dreadful is the majesty of the +deeds of God. Do we not mistake this dread for the dread of death? Say +ye to yourselves more often: ‘The hour of death is not as dreadful as +we deem it. Else, neither the universe nor man could exist.’” + +“He is a sage,” spake the angel sitting at the head of the couch. + +“He was refractory and arrogant,” spake the angel seated opposite the +first. “He dreamed of wrestling with God,--and now he shall be punished +anew: never a mortal shall point to his grave in the mountains of Moab. +And thereby shall his glory be diminished.” + +They wanted to test the prophet, but he understood, and answered them +unwaveringly: + +“Goodly is the glory of those that merit glory. But that which has +earned diminution, must be diminished. For even the most glorious of +men would rejoice only in the true measure of glory.” + +Thereupon the angels, struck by the wisdom of the prophet, did exclaim, +as they arose from their places: + +“Truly, God Himself shall console thee! We can but bow down before +thee.” + +They were dark, and they were standing in a dark tent. But their eyes +shone, and the prophet beheld the starry radiance of their eyes. They +retreated into the night, like shades, barely stooping at the doorway +of the tent. As for the prophet, he remained alone in the midst of the +night and the desert, lying upon the earth. And when the sun had arisen +from behind the craggy mountains, and it grew light and hot within +the tent, the prophet, feeling a great longing to rest amid coolness, +did forsake his couch, and did bend his steps toward a vale in the +mountains, seeking shade. But there was none even in the vale by now. +However, in the inmost recesses of one mountain he came upon a cavern. +And behold, two captives were hacking away with sharp picks at the +entrance into this cavern. The stones at the entrance were as white as +the snow upon mountain-tops, and were hot from the sun. And the black +hair of the copper-faced captives, as well as the cloths about their +loins, were wet with perspiration. But two fresh fruits, two apples, +were lying upon a stone near the cavern, while in the cavern itself +it was dark and cool. And the labourers, lowering their picks, spake, +saying: + +“We greet thee, lord and chieftain, in the name of God, the Merciful, +the Compassionate. Lo, we have finished our labour.” + +And the prophet asked them: + +“Who are ye, and what were ye doing?” + +To which they did answer: + +“We were preparing a treasure-chamber for the king. Enter, look about +thee, and rest from thy journey and the heat. Refresh thy lips with the +fruits, and tell us which is the sweeter and riper one.” + +And, having entered the cavern, the prophet did sit down upon a stone +couch nigh one of its walls, and did feel the shade and the coolness. +And, having bitten of the first fruit, he spake: + +“Verily, this is life itself: I am drinking water from a spring, I +scent the pleasant odours of the flowers of the fields, and I feel the +taste of aspen honey. I am vigorous, and I am strong.” + +And, having bitten of the second, he exclaimed: + +“Verily, there is nothing to compare with this: I am drinking the wines +of paradise, sealed with a seal of musk, blended with the water of a +well-spring that quencheth the thirst of those who draw nigh to The +Eternal. I scent the fragrance of a celestial garden, and feel the +taste of the honey of its flowers,--nor hath this honey any bitter +tang. And lo, a blessed drowsiness befogs my head. Awake me not, O ye +captives, till that my time be fulfilled.” + +And the captives,--they were angels, the captives of God,--quietly went +on, as his speech died away: + +“Till that the sun,” uttered the first, reading the _Sura_, the +Canticle, of the Great Tidings--“till that the sun be bent, till that +the stars rain down from the sky, and the mountains remove from their +place, and the she-camels be abandoned, and the seas do boil up....” + +“I am S’in,” uttered the second, reading the _Sura_ for the Departing. +“Glory be to Him that reigneth over all the universe! Ye all shall +return to Him!...” + +And, hearing their whispers, but without catching their words, the +prophet did lie down upon the couch, and did repose in the sleep of +death, knowing not thereof. And the angels did wall up the entrance to +the sepulchral cavern, and did depart to the Master Who had sent them. +And the prophet was joined to his people, having had his fill of days, +and without perceiving the end thereof. Never a man, even to this day, +has yet contemplated his tomb in the mountains of Moab. But his wisdom +is imprinted in the memory of all peoples, and is recorded in Heaven in +_Ghilliun_, the Book Eternal. + +The Sheikh Saadi,--may his name be blessed!--the Sheikh Saadi,--many of +his pearls have we strung side by side with our own, upon the string +of a good style!--hath told us of a man who had tasted the bliss of +drawing nigh The Beloved. This man had been lost in contemplation; but +when he had come back to the everyday world, he was asked with a kindly +mockery: “But where are the flowers from the garden of your reverie?” +And the man made answer: “I desired to bring back the whole skirt of +my coat full of roses for my friends; but, when I had drawn nigh the +rose-bush, I was so intoxicated by its fragrance that I did release it +out of my hands.” + +Let him that can connect the story of the poet with our own. + +Peace and joy be the portion of all that dwell upon this earth! + +_1911._ + + + + +THE GENTLEMAN FROM SAN FRANCISCO + + _Alas, alas that great city Babylon, + that mighty city!_ + + THE APOCALYPSE + + +The gentleman from San Francisco--neither at Naples nor at Capri had +any one remembered his name--was going to the Old World for two whole +years, with wife and daughter, solely for the sake of pleasure. + +He was firmly convinced that he was fully entitled to rest, to +pleasure, to prolonged and comfortable travel, and to not a little +else besides. For such a conviction he had his reasons,--that, in the +first place, he was rich, and, in the second, that he was only now +beginning to live, despite his eight and fifty years. Until now he had +not lived, but had merely existed,--not at all badly, it is true, but, +never the less, putting all his hopes on the future. He had laboured +with never a pause for rest,--the coolies, whom he had imported by +whole thousands, well knew what this meant!--and finally he saw that +much had already been accomplished, that he had almost come abreast of +those whom he had at one time set out to emulate, and he decided to +enjoy breathing space. It was a custom among the class of people to +which he belonged to commence their enjoyment of life with a journey +to Europe, to India, to Egypt. He, too, proposed to do the same. Of +course he desired, first of all, to reward himself for his years of +toil; however, he rejoiced on account of his wife and daughter as well. +His wife had never been distinguished for any special sensitiveness +to new impressions,--but then, all elderly American women are fervid +travellers. As for his daughter,--a girl no longer in her first youth, +and somewhat sickly,--travel was a downright necessity for her: to +say nothing of the benefit to her health, were there no fortuitous +encounters during travels? It is while travelling that one may at times +sit at table with a _milliardaire_, or scrutinize frescoes by his side. + +The itinerary worked out by the gentleman from San Francisco was an +extensive one. In December and January he hoped to enjoy the sun of +Southern Italy, the monuments of antiquity, the _tarantella_, the +serenades of strolling singers, and that which men of his age relish +with the utmost _finesse_: the love of little, youthful Neapolitaines, +even though it be given not entirely without ulterior motives; he +contemplated spending the Carnival in Nice, in Monte Carlo, whither +the very pick of society gravitates at that time,--that very society +upon which all the benefits of civilization depend: not merely the +cut of tuxedos, but, as well, the stability of thrones, and the +declaration of wars, and the prosperity of hotels,--Monte Carlo, +where some give themselves up with passion to automobile and sail +races; others to roulette; a third group to that which it is the +custom to call flirting; a fourth, to trap-shooting, in which the +pigeons, released from their cotes, soar up most gracefully above +emerald-green swards, against the background of a sea that is the +colour of forget-me-nots,--only, in the same minute, to strike against +the ground as little, crumpled clods of white.... The beginning of +March he wanted to devote to Florence; about the time of the Passion of +Our Lord to arrive at Rome, in order to hear the _Miserere_ there; his +plans also embraced Venice, and Paris, and bull-fighting in Seville, +and sea-bathing in the British Islands, and Athens, and Constantinople, +and Palestine, and Egypt, and even Japan,--of course, be it understood, +already on the return trip.... And everything went very well at first. + +It was the end of November; almost as far as Gibraltar it was necessary +to navigate now through an icy murk, now amidst a blizzard of wet +snow; but the ship sailed in all safety and even without rolling; the +passengers the steamer was carrying proved to be many, and all of them +people of note; the ship--the famous _Atlantida_--resembled the most +expensive of European hotels, with all conveniences: an all-night +bar, Turkish baths, a newspaper of its own,--and life upon it flowed +in accordance with a most complicated system of regulations: people +got up early, to the sounds of bugles, stridently resounding through +the corridors at that dark hour when day was so slowly and inimically +dawning over the grayish-green desert of waters, ponderously turbulent +in the mist. Putting on their flannel pyjamas, the passengers drank +coffee, chocolate, cocoa; then they got into marble baths, did their +exercises, inducing an appetite and a sense of well-being, performed +their toilet for the day, and went to breakfast. Until eleven one was +supposed to promenade the decks vigorously, inhaling the fresh coolness +of the ocean, or to play at shuffle-board and other games for the sake +of arousing the appetite anew, and, at eleven, to seek sustenance in +bouillon and sandwiches; having refreshed themselves, the passengers +perused their newspaper with gusto and calmly awaited lunch, a meal +still more nourishing and varied than the breakfast. The next two hours +were sacred to repose,--the decks were then encumbered with _chaises +longues_, upon which the travellers reclined, covered up with plaids, +contemplating the cloud-flecked sky and the foaming hummocks flashing +by over the side, or else pleasantly dozing off; at five o’clock, +refreshed and put in good spirits, they were drenched with strong +fragrant tea, served with cookies; at seven they were apprized by bugle +signals of a dinner of nine courses.... And thereupon the gentleman +from San Francisco, in an access of animal spirits, would hurry to his +resplendent _cabine de luxe_, to dress. + +In the evening the tiers of the _Atlantida_ gaped through the dusk +as though they were fiery, countless eyes, and a great multitude of +servants worked with especial feverishness in the kitchens, sculleries, +and wine vaults. The ocean, heaving on the other side of the walls, was +awesome; but none gave it a thought, firmly believing it under the sway +of the captain,--a red-haired, man of monstrous bulk and ponderousness, +always seeming sleepy, resembling, in his uniform frock-coat, with its +golden chevrons, an enormous idol; it was only very rarely that he left +his mysterious quarters to appear in public. A siren on the forecastle +howled every minute in hellish sullenness and whined in frenzied +malice, but not many of the diners heard the siren,--it was drowned +by the strains of a splendid stringed orchestra, playing exquisitely +and ceaselessly in the two-tiered hall, decorated with marble, its +floors covered with velvet rugs; festively flooded with the lights of +crystal lustres and gilded _girandoles_, filled to overflowing with +diamond-bedecked ladies in _décoletté_ and men in tuxedos, graceful +waiters and deferent _maitres d’hôtel_,--among whom one, who took +orders for wines exclusively, even walked about with a chain around his +neck, like a lord mayor. A tuxedo and perfect linen made the gentleman +from San Francisco appear very much younger. Spare, not tall, clumsily +but strongly built, groomed until he shone and moderately animated, he +sat in the aureate-pearly refulgence of this palatial room, at a table +with a bottle of amber Johannesberg, with countless goblets, small and +large, of the thinnest glass, with a curly bouquet of curly hyacinths. +There was something of the Mongol about his yellowish face with clipped +silvery moustache; his large teeth gleamed with gold fillings; his +stalwart, bald head glistened like old ivory. Rich, yet in keeping +with her years, was the dress of his wife,--a big woman, expansive and +calm; elaborate, yet light and diaphanous, with an innocent frankness, +was that of his daughter,--tall, slender, with magnificent hair, +exquisitely dressed, with breath aromatic from violet cachous and with +the tenderest of tiny, rosy pimples about her lips and between her +shoulder blades, just the least bit powdered.... The dinner lasted for +two whole hours, while after dinner there was dancing in the ball room, +during which the men,--the gentleman from San Francisco among their +number, of course,--with their feet cocked up, determined, upon the +basis of the latest political and stock-exchange news, the destinies +of nations, smoking Habana cigars and drinking _liqueurs_ until they +were crimson in the face, seated in the bar, where the waiters were +negroes in red jackets, the whites of their eyes resembling hard boiled +eggs with the shell off. The ocean, with a dull roar, was moiling in +black mountains on the other side of the wall; the snow-gale whistled +mightily through the sodden rigging; the whole steamer quivered as it +mastered both the gale and the mountains, sundering to either side, +as though with a plough, their shifting masses, that again and again +boiled up and reared high, with tails of foam; the siren, stifled by +the fog, was moaning with a deathly anguish; the lookouts up in their +crow’s-nest froze from the cold and grew dazed from straining their +attention beyond their strength. Like to the grim and sultry depths of +the infernal regions, like to their ultimate, their ninth circle, was +the womb of the steamer, below the water line,--that womb where dully +gurgled the gigantic furnaces, devouring with their incandescent maws +mountains of hard coal, cast into them by men stripped to the waist, +purple from the flames, and with smarting, filthy sweat pouring over +them; whereas here, in the bar, men threw their legs over the arms +of their chairs with never a care, sipping cognac and _liqueurs_, +and were wafted among clouds of spicy smoke as they indulged in +well-turned conversation; in the ball room everything was radiant +with light and warmth and joy; the dancing couples were now awhirl +in waltzes, now twisting in the tango,--and the music insistently, +in some delectably-shameless melancholy, was suppliant always of the +one, always of the same thing.... There was an ambassador among this +brilliant throng,--a lean, modest little old man; there was a great man +of riches,--clean-shaven, lanky, of indeterminate years, and with the +appearance of a prelate, in his dress-coat of an old-fashioned cut; +there was a well-known Spanish writer; there was a world-celebrated +beauty, already just the very least trifle faded and of an unenviable +morality; there was an exquisite couple in love with each other, whom +all watched with curiosity and whose happiness was unconcealed: _he_ +danced only with _her_; sang--and with great ability--only to _her_ +accompaniment; and everything they did was carried out so charmingly, +that the captain was the only one who knew that this pair was hired +by Lloyd’s to play at love for a good figure, and that they had been +sailing for a long time, now on one ship, now on another. + +At Gibraltar everybody was gladdened by the sun,--it seemed to be early +spring; a new passenger, whose person aroused the general interest, +made his appearance on board the _Atlantida_,--he was the hereditary +prince of a certain Asiatic kingdom, travelling incognito; a little man +who somehow seemed to be all made of wood, even though he was alert +in his movements; broad of face, with narrow eyes, in gold-rimmed +spectacles; a trifle unpleasant through the fact that his skin showed +through his coarse black moustache like that of a cadaver; on the +whole, however, he was charming, unpretentious, and modest. On the +Mediterranean Sea there was a whiff of winter again; the billows ran +high, and were as multi-coloured as the tail of a peacock; they had +snowy-white crests, lashed up--although the sun was sparkling brightly +and the sky was perfectly clear--by a _tramontana_, a chill northern +wind from beyond the mountains, that was joyously and madly rushing +to meet the ship.... Then, on the second day, the sky began to pale, +the horizon became covered with mist, land was nearing; Ischia, Capri +appeared; through the binoculars Naples--lumps of sugar strewn at the +foot of some dove-coloured mass--could be seen; while over it and this +dove-coloured thing were visible the ridges of distant mountains, +vaguely glimmering with the dead whiteness of snows. There was a great +number of people on deck; many of the ladies and gentlemen had already +put on short, light fur coats, with the fur outside; Chinese boys, +never contradictory and never speaking above a whisper, bow-legged +striplings with pitch-black queues reaching to their heels and with +eye-lashes as long and thick as those of young girls, were already +dragging, little by little, sundry plaids, canes, and portmanteaux and +grips of alligator hide toward the companion-ways.... The daughter of +the gentleman from San Francisco was standing beside the prince, who +had been, through a fortuitous circumstance, presented to her yesterday +evening, and she pretended to be looking intently into the distance, in +a direction he was pointing out to her, telling, explaining something +or other to her, hurriedly and quietly. On account of his height he +seemed a boy by contrast with others,--he was queer and not at all +prepossessing of person, with his spectacles, his derby, his English +great coat, while his scanty moustache looked just as if it were of +horse-hair, and the swarthy, thin skin seemed to be drawn tightly over +his face, and somehow had the appearance of being lacquered,--but +the young girl was listening to him, without understanding, in +her agitation, what he was saying; her heart was thumping from an +incomprehensible rapture before his presence and from pride that he was +speaking with her, and not some other; everything about him that was +different from others,--his lean hands, his clear skin, under which +flowed the ancient blood of kings, even his altogether unpretentious, +yet somehow distinctively neat, European dress,--everything held a +secret, inexplicable charm, evoked a feeling of amorousness. As for +the gentleman from San Francisco himself,--he, in a high silk hat, +in gray spats over patent-leather shoes, kept on glancing at the +famous beauty, who was standing beside him,--a tall blonde of striking +figure, her eyes were painted in the latest Parisian fashion; she was +holding a diminutive, hunched-up, mangy lap dog on a silver chain and +was chattering to it without cease. And the daughter, in some vague +embarrassment, tried not to notice her father. + +Like all Americans of means, he was very generous on his travels, and, +like all of them, believed in the full sincerity and good-will of +those who brought him food and drink with such solicitude, who served +him from morn till night, forestalling his least wish; of those who +guarded his cleanliness and rest, lugged his things around, summoned +porters for him, delivered his trunks to hotels. Thus had it been +everywhere, thus had it been on the ship, and thus was it to be in +Naples as well. Naples grew, and drew nearer; the musicians, the brass +of their instruments flashing, had already clustered upon the deck, and +suddenly deafened everybody with the triumphant strains of a march; +the gigantic captain, in his full dress uniform, appeared upon his +stage, and, like a condescending heathen god, waved his hand amiably +to the passengers,--and to the gentleman from San Francisco it seemed +that it was for him alone that the march so beloved by proud America +was thundering, that it was he whom the captain was felicitating +upon a safe arrival. And every other passenger felt similarly about +himself--or herself. And when the _Atlantida_ did finally enter the +harbour, had heaved to at the wharf with her many-tiered mass, black +with people, and the gang-planks clattered down,--what a multitude of +porters and their helpers in caps with gold braid, what a multitude +of different _commissionaires_, whistling gamins, and strapping +ragamuffins with packets of coloured postal cards in their hands, made +a rush toward the gentleman from San Francisco, with offers of their +services! And he smiled, with a kindly contemptuousness, at these +ragamuffins, as he went toward the automobile of precisely that hotel +where there was a possibility of the prince’s stopping as well, and +drawled through his teeth, now in English, now in Italian: + +“Go away![*] _Via!_” + +[*] English in the original. The same applies to the other phrases in +this story marked with asterisks. _Trans._ + +Life at Naples at once assumed its wonted, ordered current: in the +early morning, breakfast in the sombre dining room with its damp +draught from windows opening on some sort of a stony little garden; +the sky was usually overcast, holding out but little promise, and +there was the usual crowd of guides at the door of the vestibule; +then came the first smiles of a warm, rosy sun; there was, from the +high hanging balcony, a view of Vesuvius, enveloped to its foot by +radiant morning mists, and of silver-and-pearl eddies on the surface +of the Bay, and of the delicate contour of Capri against the horizon; +one could see tiny burros, harnessed in twos to little carts, running +down below over the quay, sticky with mire, and detachments of +diminutive soldiers, marching off to somewhere or other to lively and +exhilarating music. Next came the procession to the waiting automobile +and the slow progress through populous, narrow, and damp corridors +of streets, between tall, many-windowed houses; the inspection of +lifelessly-clean museums, evenly and pleasantly, yet bleakly, lit, +seemingly illuminated by snow; or of cool churches, smelling of wax, +which everywhere and always contain the same things: a majestic portal, +screened by a heavy curtain of leather, and inside,--silence, empty +vastness, unobtrusive little flames of a seven-branched candle-stick +glowing redly in the distant depths, on an altar bedecked with laces; +a solitary old woman among the dark wooden pews; slippery tombstones +underfoot; and somebody’s _Descent from the Cross_,--inevitably a +celebrated one. At one o’clock there was luncheon upon the mountain +of San Martino, where, toward noon, gathered not a few people of the +very first quality, and where the daughter of the gentleman from San +Francisco had once almost fainted away for joy, because she thought she +saw the prince sitting in the hall, although she already knew through +the newspapers that he had left for a temporary stay at Rome. At five +came tea at the hotel, in the showy salon, so cosy with its rugs and +flaming fireplaces; and after that it was already time to get ready for +dinner,--and once more came the mighty, compelling reverberation of the +gong through all the stories; once more the processions in Indian file +of ladies in _décoletté_, rustling in their silks upon the staircases +and reflected in all the mirrors; once more the palatial dining room, +widely and hospitably opened, and the red jackets of the musicians upon +their platform, and the black cluster of waiters about the _maitre +d’hôtel_, who, with a skill out of the ordinary, was ladling some sort +of a thick, roseate soup into plates.... The dinners, as everywhere +else, were the crowning glory of each day; the guests dressed for them +as for a rout, and these dinners were so abundant in edibles, and +wines, and mineral waters, and sweets, and fruits, that toward eleven +o’clock at night the chambermaids were distributing through all the +corridors rubber bags with hot water to warm sundry stomachs. + +However, the December of that year proved to be not altogether a +successful one for Naples; the porters grew confused when one talked +with them of the weather, and merely shrugged their shoulders guiltily, +muttering that they could not recall such another year,--although it +was not the first year that they had been forced to mutter this, and to +urge in extenuation that “something terrible is happening everywhere”; +there were unheard of storms and torrents of rain on the Riviera; there +was snow in Athens; Etna was also all snowed over and was aglow of +nights; tourists were fleeing from Palermo in all directions, escaping +from the cold. The morning sun deceived the Neapolitans every day that +winter: toward noon the sky became gray and a fine rain began falling, +but growing heavier and colder all the time; at such times the palms +near the entrance of the hotel glistened as though they were of tin, +the town seemed especially dirty and cramped, the museums exceedingly +alike; the cigar stumps of the corpulent cabmen, whose rubber-coats +flapped in the wind like wings, seemed to have an insufferable stench, +while the energetic snapping of their whips over their scrawny-necked +nags was patently false; the footgear of the _signori_ sweeping the +rails of the tramways seemed horrible; the women, splashing through the +mud, their black-haired heads bared to the rain, appeared hideously +short-legged; as for the dampness, and the stench of putrid fish +from the sea foaming at the quay,--they were a matter of course. The +gentleman and the lady from San Francisco began quarreling in the +morning; their daughter either walked about pale, with a headache, or, +coming to life again, went into raptures over everything, and was, at +such times both charming and beautiful: beautiful were those tender and +complex emotions which had been awakened within her by meeting that +homely man through whose veins flowed uncommon blood; for, after all +is said and done, perhaps it is of no real importance just what it is, +precisely, that awakens a maiden’s soul,--whether it be money, or fame, +or illustrious ancestry.... + +Everybody affirmed that things were entirely different in Sorrento, +in Capri,--there it was both warmer and sunnier, and the lemons were +in blossom, and the customs were more honest, and the wine was more +natural. And so the family from San Francisco determined to set out +with all its trunks to Capri, and, after seeing it all, after treading +the stones where the palace of Tiberius had once stood, after visiting +the faery-like caverns of the Azure Grotto, and hearing the bag-pipers +of Abruzzi, who for a whole month preceding Christmas wander over the +island and sing the praises of the Virgin Mary, they meant to settle in +Sorrento. + +On the day of departure,--a most memorable one for the family from San +Francisco!--there was no sun from the early morning. A heavy fog hid +Vesuvius to the very base; this gray fog spread low over the leaden +heaving of the sea that was lost to the eye at a distance of a half a +mile. Capri was entirely invisible,--as though there had never been +such a thing in the world. And the little steamer that set out for it +was so tossed from side to side that the family from San Francisco +was laid prostrate upon the divans in the sorry general cabin of +this tub, their feet wrapped up in plaids, and their eyes closed from +nausea. Mrs. suffered,--so she thought,--more than anybody; she was +overcome by sea-sickness several times; it seemed to her that she was +dying, whereas the stewardess, who always ran up to her with a small +basin,--she had been, for many years, day in and day out, rolling on +these waves, in freezing weather and in torrid, and yet was still +tireless and kind to everybody,--merely laughed. Miss was dreadfully +pale and held a slice of lemon between her teeth; now she could not +have been cheered even by the hope of a chance encounter with the +prince at Sorrento, where he intended to be about Christmas. Mr., +who was lying on his back, in roomy overcoat and large cap, never +unlocked his jaws all the way over; his face had grown darker and +his moustache whiter, and his head ached dreadfully: during the last +days, thanks to the bad weather, he had been drinking too heavily of +evenings, and had too much admired the “living pictures” in dives of +_recherché_ libertinage. But the rain kept on lashing against the +jarring windows, the water from them running down on the divans; the +wind, howling, bent the masts, and at times, aided by the onslaught +of a wave, careened the little steamer entirely to one side, and then +something in the hold would roll with a rumble. During the stops, at +Castellamare, at Sorrento, things were a trifle more bearable, but +even then the rocking was fearful,--the shore, with all its cliffs, +gardens, _pigin_[15], its pink and white hotels and hazy mountains clad +in curly greenery, swayed up and down as if on a swing; boats bumped up +against the sides of the ship; sailors and steerage passengers were +yelling vehemently; somewhere, as though it had been crushed, a baby +was wailing and smothering; a raw wind was blowing in at the door; and, +from a swaying boat with a flag of the Hotel Royal, a lisping gamin was +screaming, luring travellers: “Kgoya-al! Hôtel Kgoya-al!...” And the +gentleman from San Francisco, feeling that he was an old man,--which +was but proper,--was already thinking with sadness and melancholy +of all these Royals, Splendids, Excelsiors, and of these greedy, +insignificant mannikins, reeking of garlic, that are called Italians. +Once, having opened his eyes and raised himself from the divan, he saw, +underneath the craggy steep of the shore, a cluster of stone hovels, +mouldy through and through, stuck one on top of another near the very +edge of the water, near boats, near all sorts of rags, tins, and +brown nets,--hovels so miserable, that, at the recollection that this +was that very Italy he had come hither to enjoy, he felt despair.... +Finally, at twilight, the dark mass of the island began to draw near, +seemingly bored through and through by little red lights near its base; +the wind became softer, warmer, more fragrant; over the abating waves, +as opalescent as black oil, golden pythons flowed from the lanterns on +the wharf.... Then came the sudden rumble of the anchor, and it fell +with a splash into the water; the ferocious yells of the boatmen, vying +with one another, floated in from all quarters,--and at once the heart +grew lighter, the lights in the general cabin shone more brightly, a +desire arose to eat, to drink, to smoke, to be stirring.... Ten minutes +later the family from San Francisco had descended into a large boat; +within fifteen minutes it had set foot upon the stones of the wharf, +and had then got into a bright little railway car and to its buzzing +started the ascent of the slope, amid the stakes of the vineyards, +half-crumbled stone enclosures, and wet, gnarled orange trees, some +of them under coverings of straw,--trees with thick, glossy foliage, +and aglimmer with the orange fruits; all these objects were sliding +downward, past the open windows of the little car, toward the base of +the mountain.... Sweetly smells the earth of Italy after rain, and her +every island has its own, its especial aroma! + +[15] Pino-groves. _Trans._ + +The island of Capri was damp and dark on this evening. But now it came +into life for an instant; lights sprang up here and there, as always +on the steamer’s arrival. At the top of the mountain, where stood the +station of the _funicular_, there was another throng of those whose +duty lay in receiving fittingly the gentleman from San Francisco. There +were other arrivals also, but they merited no attention,--several +Russians, who had taken up their abode in Capri,--absent-minded because +of their bookish meditations, unkempt, bearded, spectacled, the collars +of their old drap overcoats turned up; and a group of long-legged, +long-necked, round-headed German youths in Tyrolean costumes, with +canvas knapsacks slung over their shoulders,--these latter stood in +need of nobody’s services, feeling themselves at home everywhere, and +were not at all generous in their expenditures. The gentleman from San +Francisco, on the other hand, who was calmly keeping aloof from both +the one group and the other, was immediately noticed. He and his ladies +were bustlingly assisted to get out, some men running ahead of him +to show him the way: he was surrounded anew by urchins, and by those +robust Caprian wives who carry on their heads the portmanteaux and +trunks of respectable travellers. The wooden pattens of these women +clattered over a _piazetta_, that seemed to belong to some opera, +an electric globe swaying above it in the damp wind; the rabble of +urchins burst into sharp, bird-like whistles,--and, as though on a +stage, the gentleman from San Francisco proceeded in their midst toward +some mediæval arch, underneath houses that had become welded into one +mass, beyond which a little echoing street,--with the tuft of a palm +above flat roofs on its left, and with blue stars in the black sky +overhead,--led slopingly to the grand entrance of the hotel, glittering +ahead.... And again it seemed that it was in honour of the guests from +San Francisco that this damp little town of stone on a craggy little +island of the Mediterranean Sea had come to life, that it was they who +had made so happy and affable the proprietor of the hotel, that it was +they only who had been waited for by the Chinese gong, that now began +wailing the summons to dinner through all the stories of the hotel, the +instant they had set foot in the vestibule. + +The proprietor, a young man of haughty elegance, who had met them with +a polite and exquisite bow, for a minute dumbfounded the gentleman +from San Francisco: having glanced at him, the gentleman from San +Francisco suddenly recalled that just the night before, among the rest +of the confusion of images that had beset him in his sleep, he had seen +precisely this gentleman,--just like him, down to the least detail: in +the same sort of frock with rounded skirts, and with the same pomaded +and painstakingly combed head. Startled, he was almost taken aback; but +since, from long, long before, there was not even a mustard seed of any +sort of so-called mystical emotions left in his soul, his astonishment +was dimmed the same instant, passing through a corridor of the hotel, +he spoke jestingly to his wife and daughter of this strange coincidence +of dream and reality. And only his daughter glanced at him with alarm +at that moment: her heart suddenly contracted from sadness, from a +feeling of their loneliness upon this foreign, dark island,--a feeling +so strong that she almost burst into tears. But still she said nothing +of her feelings to her father,--as always. + +An exalted personage--Rais XVII,--who had been visiting Capri, had +just taken his departure, and the guests from San Francisco were given +the same apartments that he had occupied. To them was assigned the +handsomest and most expert chambermaid, a Belgian, whose waist was +slenderly and firmly corseted, and who wore a little starched cap that +looked like a pronged crown; also, the stateliest and most dignified +of flunkies, a fiery-eyed Sicilian, swarthy as coal; and the nimblest +of bell-boys, the short and stout Luigi,--a fellow who was very fond +of a joke, and who had changed many places in his time. And a minute +later there was a slight tap at the door of the room of the gentleman +from San Francisco,--the French _maitre d’hôtel_ had come to find +out if the newly arrived guests would dine, and, in the event of an +answer in the affirmative,--of which, however, there was no doubt,--to +inform them that the _carte de jour_ consisted of crawfish, roast +beef, asparagus, pheasants, and so forth. The floor was still rocking +under the gentleman from San Francisco,--so badly had the atrocious +little Italian steamer tossed him about,--but, without hurrying, with +his own hands, although somewhat clumsily from being unaccustomed +to such things, he shut a window that had banged upon the entrance +of the _maitre d’hôtel_ and had let in the odours of the distant +kitchen and of the wet flowers in the garden, and with a leisurely +precision replied that they would dine, that their table must be +placed at a distance from the door, at the farthest end of the dining +room, that they would drink local wine and champagne,--moderately dry +and only slightly chilled. The _maitre d’hôtel concurred_ in every +word of his, in intonations most varied, having, however, but one +significance,--that there was never a doubt, nor could there possibly +be any, about the correctness of the wishes of the gentleman from San +Francisco, and that everything would be carried out punctiliously. In +conclusion he inclined his head, and asked deferentially: + +“Will that be all, sir?” + +And, having received a long-drawn-out “Yes”[*] in answer, he added that +the _tarantella_ would be danced in the vestibule to-day,--the dancers +would be Carmella and Giuseppe, known to all Italy, and to “the entire +world of tourists.” + +“I have seen her on post cards,” said the gentleman from San Francisco +in a voice devoid of all expression. “About this Giuseppe, now,--is he +her husband?” + +“Her cousin, sir,” answered the _maitre d’hôtel_. + +And, after a little wait, after considering something, the gentleman +from San Francisco dismissed him with a nod. + +And then he began his preparations anew, as though for a wedding +ceremony: he turned on all the electric lights, filling all the mirrors +with reflections of light and glitter, of furniture and opened trunks; +he began shaving and washing, ringing the bell every minute, while +other impatient rings from his wife’s and daughter’s rooms floated +through the entire corridor and interrupted his. And Luigi, in his red +apron, was rushing headlong to answer the bell, with an ease peculiar +to many stout men, the while he made grimaces of horror that made the +chambermaids, running by with glazed porcelain pails in their hands, +laugh till they cried. Having knocked on the door with his knuckles, he +asked with an assumed timidity, with a respectfulness that verged on +idiocy: + +“_Ha sonato, signore?_ (Did you ring, sir?)” + +And from the other side of the door came an unhurried, grating voice, +insultingly polite: + +“Yes, come in....”[*] + +What were the thoughts, what were the emotions of the gentleman from +San Francisco on this evening, that was of such portent to him? He +felt nothing exceptional,--for the trouble in this world is just that +everything is apparently all too simple! And even if he had sensed +within his soul that something was impending, he would, never the +less, have thought that this thing would not occur for some time to +come,--in any case, not immediately. Besides that, like everyone who +has gone through the rocking of a ship, he wanted very much to eat, +was anticipating with enjoyment the first spoonful of soup, the first +mouthful of wine, and performed the usual routine of dressing even with +a certain degree of exhilaration that left no time for reflections. + +Having shaved and washed himself, having inserted several artificial +teeth properly, he, standing before a mirror, wetted the remnants +of his thick, pearly-gray hair and plastered it down around his +swarthy-yellow skull, with brushes set in silver; drew a suit of +cream-coloured silk underwear over his strong old body, beginning to +be full at the waist from excesses in food, and put on silk socks and +dancing slippers on his shrivelled, splayed feet; sitting down, he +put in order his black trousers, drawn high by black silk braces, as +well as his snowy-white shirt, with the bosom bulging out; put the +links through the glossy cuffs, and began the torturous pursuit of the +collar-button underneath the stiffly starched collar. The floor was +still swaying beneath him, the tips of his fingers pained him greatly, +the collar-button at times nipped hard the flabby skin in the hollow +under his Adam’s-apple, but he was persistent and finally, his eyes +glittering from the exertion, his face all livid from the collar that +was choking his throat,--a collar far too tight,--he did contrive +to accomplish his task, and sat down in exhaustion in front of the +pier glass, reflected in it from head to foot, a reflection that was +repeated in all the other mirrors. + +“Oh, this is dreadful!” he muttered, letting his strong bald head +drop, and without trying to understand, without reflecting, just what, +precisely, was dreadful; then, with an accustomed and attentive glance, +he inspected his stubby fingers, with gouty hardenings at the joints, +and his convex nails of an almond colour, repeating, with conviction; +“This is dreadful....” + +But at this point the second gong, sonorously, as in some heathen +temple, reverberated through the entire house. And, getting up quickly +from his seat, the gentleman from San Francisco drew his collar still +tighter with the necktie and his stomach by means of the low-cut vest, +put on his tuxedo, drew out his cuffs, scrutinized himself once more +in the mirror.... This Carmella, swarthy, with eyes which she knew +well how to use most effectively, resembling a mulatto woman, clad +in a dress of many colours, with the colour of orange predominant, +must dance exceptionally, he reflected. And, stepping briskly out of +his room and walking over the carpet to the next one,--his wife’s--he +asked, loudly, if they would be ready soon? + +“In five minutes, Dad!” a girl’s voice, ringing and by now gay, +responded from the other side of the door. + +“Very well,” said the gentleman from San Francisco. + +And, leisurely, he walked down red-carpeted corridors and staircases, +descending in search of the reading room. The servants he met stood +aside and hugged the wall to let him pass, but he kept on his way +as though he had never even noticed them. An old woman who was late +for dinner, already stooping, with milky hair but _décolettée_ in a +light-gray gown of silk, was hurrying with all her might, but drolly, +in a hen-like manner, and he easily out-stripped her. Near the glass +doors of the dining room, where all the guests had already assembled, +and were beginning their dinner, he stopped before a little table +piled with boxes of cigars and Egyptian cigarettes, took a large +Manila cigar, and tossed three _lire_ upon the little table; upon the +closed veranda he glanced, in passing, through the open window: out of +the darkness he felt a breath of the balmy air upon him, thought he +saw the tip of an ancient palm, that had flung wide across the stars +its fronds, which seemed gigantic, heard the distant, even noise of +the sea floating in to him.... In the reading room,--snug, quiet, +and illuminated only above the tables, some gray-haired German was +standing, rustling the newspapers,--unkempt, resembling Ibsen, in round +silver spectacles and with the astonished eyes of a madman. Having +scrutinized him coldly, the gentleman from San Francisco sat down in +a deep leather chair in a corner near a green-shaded lamp, put on his +_pince nez_, twitching his head because his collar was choking him, +and hid himself completely behind the newspaper sheet. He rapidly +ran through the headlines of certain items, read a few lines about +the never-ceasing Balkan war, with an accustomed gesture turned the +newspaper over,--when suddenly the lines flared up before him with a +glassy glare, his neck became taut, his eyes bulged out, the _pince +nez_ flew off his nose.... He lunged forward, tried to swallow some +air,--and gasped wildly; his lower jaw sank, lighting up his entire +mouth with the reflection of the gold fillings; his head dropped back +on his shoulder and began to sway; the bosom of his shirt bulged out +like a basket,--and his whole body, squirming, his heels catching the +carpet, slid downward to the floor, desperately struggling with someone. + +Had the German not been in the reading room, the personnel of the hotel +would have managed, quickly and adroitly, to hush up this dreadful +occurrence; instantly, through back passages, seizing him by the head +and feet, they would have rushed off the gentleman from San Francisco +as far away as possible,--and never a soul among the guests would have +found out what he had been up to. But the German had dashed out of +the reading room with a scream,--he had aroused the entire house, the +entire dining room. And many jumped up from their meal, overturning +their chairs; many, paling, ran toward the reading room. “What--what +has happened?” was heard in all languages,--and no one gave a sensible +answer, no one comprehended anything, since even up to now men are +amazed most of all by death, and will not, under any circumstances, +believe in it. The proprietor dashed from one guest to another, +trying to detain those who were running away and to pacify them with +hasty assurances that this was just a trifling occurrence, a slight +fainting spell of a certain gentleman from San Francisco.... But no one +listened to him; many had seen the waiters and bell-boys tearing off +the necktie, the vest, and the rumpled tuxedo off this gentleman, and +even, for some reason or other, the dancing slippers off his splayed +feet, clad in black silk. But he was still struggling. He was still +obdurately wrestling with death; he absolutely refused to yield to her, +who had so unexpectedly and churlishly fallen upon him. His head was +swaying, he rattled hoarsely, like one with his throat cut; his eyes +had rolled up, like a drunkard’s.... When he was hurriedly carried +in and laid upon a bed in room number forty-three,--the smallest, +the poorest, the dampest and the coldest, situated at the end of the +bottom corridor,--his daughter ran in, with her hair down, in a little +dressing gown that had flown open, her bosom, raised up by the corset, +uncovered; then his wife, big and ponderous, already dressed for +dinner,--her mouth rounded in terror.... But by now he had ceased even +to bob his head. + +A quarter of an hour later everything in the hotel had assumed some +semblance of order. But the evening was irreparably spoiled. Some +guests, returning to the dining room, finished their dinner, but in +silence, with aggrieved countenances, while the proprietor would +approach now one group, now another, shrugging his shoulders in polite +yet impotent irritation, feeling himself guilty without guilt, assuring +everybody that he understood very well “how unpleasant all this was,” +and pledging his word that he would take “all measures within his +power” to remove this unpleasantness. It was necessary to call off the +_tarantella_, all unnecessary electric lights were switched off, the +majority of the guests withdrew into the bar, and it became so quiet +that one heard distinctly the ticking of the clock in the vestibule, +whose sole occupant was a parrot, dully muttering something, fussing +in his cage before going to sleep, contriving to doze off at last with +one claw ludicrously stretched up to the upper perch.... The gentleman +from San Francisco was lying upon a cheap iron bed, under coarse woolen +blankets, upon which the dull light of a single bulb beat down from +the ceiling. An ice-bag hung down to his moist and cold forehead. +The livid face, already dead, was gradually growing cold; the hoarse +rattling, expelled from the open mouth, illuminated by the reflection +of gold, was growing fainter. This was no longer the gentleman from +San Francisco rattling,--he no longer existed,--but some other. +His wife, his daughter, the doctor and the servants were standing, +gazing at him dully. Suddenly, that which they awaited and feared was +consummated,--the rattling ceased abruptly. And slowly, slowly, before +the eyes of all, a pallor flowed over the face of the man who had died, +and his features seemed to grow finer, to become irradiated, with a +beauty which had been rightfully his in the long ago.... + +The proprietor entered. “_Già è morto_,” said the doctor to him +in a whisper. The proprietor, his face dispassionate, shrugged his +shoulders. The wife, down whose cheeks the tears were quietly coursing, +walked up to him and timidly said that the deceased ought now to be +carried to his own room. + +“Oh, no, madam,” hastily, correctly, but now without any amiability and +not in English, but in French, retorted the proprietor, who was not +at all interested now in such trifling sums as the arrivals from San +Francisco might leave in his coffers. “That is absolutely impossible, +madam,” said he, and added in explanation that he valued the apartments +occupied by them very much; that, were he to carry out her wishes, +everybody in Capri would know it and the tourists would shun those +apartments. + +The young lady, who had been gazing at him strangely, sat down on +a chair, and, stuffing her mouth with a handkerchief, burst into +sobs. The wife dried her tears immediately, her face flaring up. She +adopted a louder tone, making demands in her own language, and still +incredulous of the fact that all respect for them had been completely +lost. The proprietor, with a polite dignity, cut her short: if madam +was not pleased with the customs of the hotel, he would not venture to +detain her; and he firmly announced that the body must be gotten away +this very day, at dawn, that the police had already been notified, and +one of the police officers would be here very soon and would carry +out all the necessary formalities. Was it possible to secure even a +common coffin in Capri, madam asks? Regrettably, no,--it was beyond +possibility, and no one would be able to make one in time. It would be +necessary to have recourse to something else.... For instance,--English +soda water came in large and long boxes.... It was possible to knock +the partitions out of such a box.... + +At night the whole hotel slept. The window in room number forty-three +was opened,--it gave out upon a corner of the garden where, near a high +stone wall with broken glass upon its crest, a phthisic banana tree +was growing; the electric light was switched off; the key was turned +in the door, and everybody went away. The dead man remained in the +darkness,--the blue stars looked down upon him from the sky, a cricket +with a pensive insouciance began his song in the wall.... In the dimly +lit corridor two chambermaids were seated on a window sill, at some +darning. Luigi, in slippers, entered with a pile of clothing in his +arms. + +“_Pronto?_ (All ready?)” he asked solicitously, in a ringing whisper, +indicating with his eyes the fearsome door at the end of the corridor. +And, he waved his hand airily in that direction.... “_Partenza!_” he +called out in a whisper, as though he were speeding a train, the usual +phrase used in Italian depots at the departure of trains,--and the +chambermaids, choking with silent laughter, let their heads sink on +each other’s shoulder. + +Thereupon, hopping softly, he ran up to the very door, gave it the +merest tap, and, inclining his head to one side, in a low voice, asked +with the utmost deference: + +“_Ha sonato signore?_” + +And, squeezing his throat, thrusting out his lower jaw, in a grating +voice, slowly and sadly, he answered his own question, as though from +the other side of the door: + +“Yes, come in....”[*] + +And at dawn, when it had become light beyond the window of room +number forty-three, and a humid wind had begun to rustle the tattered +leaves of the banana tree; when the blue sky of morning had lifted +and spread out over the Island of Capri, and the pure and clear-cut +summit of Monte Solaro had grown aureate against the sun that was +rising beyond the distant blue mountains of Italy; when the stone +masons, who were repairing the tourists’ paths on the island, had set +out to work,--a long box that had formerly been used for soda water +was brought to room number forty-three. Soon it became very heavy, +and was pressing hard against the knees of the junior porter, who +bore it off briskly on a one horse cab over the white paved highway +that was sinuously winding to and fro over the slopes of Capri, among +the stone walls and the vineyards, ever downwards, to the very sea. +The cabby, a puny little man with reddened eyes, in an old, wretched +jacket with short sleeves and in trodden-down shoes, was undergoing +the after effects of drink,--he had diced the whole night through in +a _trattoria_, and kept on lashing his sturdy little horse, tricked +out in the Sicilian fashion, with all sorts of little bells livelily +jingling upon the bridle with its tufts of coloured wool, and upon the +brass points of its high pad; with a yard-long feather stuck in its +cropped forelock,--a feather that shook as the horse ran. The cabby +kept silent; he was oppressed by his shiftlessness, his vices,--by the +fact that he had, that night, lost to the last mite all those coppers +with which his pockets had been filled. But the morning was fresh; in +air such as this, with the sea all around, under the morning sky, the +after effects of drink quickly evaporate, and a man is soon restored +to a carefree mood, and the cabby was furthermore consoled by that +unexpected sum, the opportunity to earn which had been granted him by +some gentleman from San Francisco, whose lifeless head was bobbing from +side to side in the box at his back.... The little steamer,--a beetle +lying far down below, against the tender and vivid deep-blue with +which the Bay of Naples is so densely and highly flooded,--was already +blowing its final whistles, that reverberated loudly all over the +island, whose every bend, every ridge, every stone, was as distinctly +visible from every point as if there were absolutely no such thing as +atmosphere. Near the wharf the junior porter was joined by the senior, +who was speeding with the daughter and wife of the gentleman from San +Francisco in his automobile,--they were pale, with eyes hollow from +tears and a sleepless night. And ten minutes later the little steamer +was again chugging through the water, again running toward Sorrento, +toward Castellamare, carrying away from Capri, for all time, the family +from San Francisco.... And again peace and quiet resumed their reign +upon the island. + +Upon this island, two thousand years ago, had lived a man who had +become completely enmeshed in his cruel and foul deeds, who had for +some reason seized the power over millions of people in his hands, +and who, having himself lost his head at the senselessness of this +power and from the fear of death by assassination, lurking in ambush +behind every corner, had committed cruelties beyond all measure,--and +humankind has remembered him for all time; and those who, in their +collusion, just as incomprehensively and, in substance, just as cruelly +as he, reign at present in power over this world, gather from all over +the earth to gaze upon the ruins of that stone villa where he had dwelt +on one of the steepest ascents of the island. On this splendid morning +all those who had come to Capri for just this purpose were still +sleeping in the hotels, although, toward their entrances, were already +being led little mouse-gray burros with red saddles, upon which, after +awaking and sating themselves with food, Americans and Germans, men and +women, young and old, would again clamber up ponderously this day, and +after whom would again run the old Caprian beggar women, with sticks in +their gnarled hands,--would run over stony paths, and always up-hill, +up to the very summit of Mount Tiberio. Set at rest by the fact that +the dead old man from San Francisco, who had likewise been planning +to go with them but instead of that had only frightened them with a +_memento mori_, had already been shipped off to Naples, the travellers +slept on heavily, and the quiet of the island was still undisturbed, +the shops in the city were still shut. The market place on the +_piazetta_ alone was carrying on traffic,--in fish and greens; and the +people there were all simple folk, among whom, without anything to do, +as always, was standing Lorenzo the boatman, famous all over Italy,--a +tall old man, a care-free rake and a handsome fellow, who had served +more than once as a model to many artists; he had brought, and had +already sold for a song, two lobsters that he had caught that night and +which were already rustling in the apron of the cook of that very hotel +where the family from San Francisco had passed the night, and now he +could afford to stand in calm idleness even until the evening, looking +about him with a kingly bearing (a little trick of his), consciously +picturesque with his tatters, clay pipe, and a red woolen _beretta_ +drooping over one ear. + +And, along the precipices of Monte Solaro, upon the ancient Phœnician +road, hewn out of the crags, down its stone steps, two mountaineers +of Abruzzi were descending from Anacapri. One had bag-pipes under his +leathern mantle,--a large bag made from the skin of a she-goat, with +two pipes; the other had something in the nature of wooden Pan’s-reeds. +They went on,--and all the land, joyous, splendid, sun-flooded, spread +out below them: the stony humps of the island, which was lying almost +in its entirety at their feet; and that faery-like deep-blue in which +it was aswim; and the radiant morning vapours over the sea, toward the +east, under the blinding sun, that was now beating down hotly, rising +ever higher and higher; and, still in their morning vagueness, the +mistily azure massive outlines of Italy, of her mountains near and +far, whose beauty human speech is impotent to express.... Half way +down the pipers slackened their pace: over the path, within a grotto +in the craggy side of Monte Solaro, all illumed by the sun, all bathed +in its warmth and glow, in snowy-white raiment of gypsum, and in a +royal crown, golden-rusty from inclement weathers, stood the Mother of +God, meek and gracious, her orbs lifted up to heaven, to the eternal +and happy abodes of Her thrice-blessed Son. The pipers bared their +heads, put their reeds to their lips,--and there poured forth their +naïve and humbly-jubilant praises to the sun, to the morning, to Her, +the Immaculate Intercessor for all those who suffer in this evil and +beautiful world, and to Him Who had been born of Her womb in a cavern +at Bethlehem, in a poor shepherd’s shelter in the distant land of +Judæa.... + +Meanwhile, the body of the dead old man from San Francisco was +returning to its home, to a grave on the shores of the New World. +Having gone through many humiliations, through much human neglect, +having wandered for a week from one port warehouse to another, it had +finally gotten once more on board that same famous ship upon which +but so recently, with so much deference, he had been borne to the Old +World. But now he was already being concealed from the quick,--he was +lowered in his tarred coffin deep into the black hold. And once more +the ship was sailing on and on upon its long sea voyage. In the night +time it sailed past the Island of Capri, and, to one watching them from +the island, there was something sad about the ship’s lights, slowly +disappearing over the dark sea. But, upon the ship itself, in its +brilliant _salons_ resplendent with lustres and marbles, there was a +crowded ball that night, as usual. + +There was a ball on the second night also, and on the third,--again in +the midst of a raging snow storm, whirling over an ocean booming like +a funeral mass, and heaving in mountains trapped out in mourning by +the silver spindrift. The innumerable fiery eyes of the ship that was +retreating into the night and the snow gale were barely visible for +the snow to the Devil watching from the crags of Gibraltar, from the +stony gateway of two worlds. The Devil was as enormous as a cliff, but +the ship was still more enormous than he; many-tiered, many-funnelled, +created by the pride of the New Man with an ancient heart. The snow +gale smote upon its rigging and wide-throated funnels, hoary from +the snow, but the ship was steadfast, firm, majestic--and awesome. +Upon its topmost deck were reared, in their solitude among the snowy +whirlwinds, those snug, dimly-lit chambers where, plunged in a light +and uneasy slumber, was its ponderous guide who resembled a heathen +idol, reigning over the entire ship. He heard the pained howlings +and the ferocious squealings of the storm-stifled siren, but soothed +himself by the proximity of that which, in the final summing up, was +incomprehensible even to himself, that which was on the other side of +his wall: that large cabin, which had the appearance of being armoured, +and was being constantly filled by the mysterious rumbling, quivering, +and crisp sputtering of blue flames, flaring up and exploding around +the pale-faced operator with a metal half-hoop upon his head. In +the very depths, in the under-water womb of the _Atlantida_, were +the thirty-thousand-pound masses of boilers and of all sorts of +other machinery--dully glittering with steel, hissing out stream and +exuding oil and boiling water,--of that kitchen, made red hot from +infernal furnaces underneath, wherein was brewing the motion of the +ship. Forces, fearful in their concentration, were bubbling, were +being transmitted to its very keel, into an endlessly long catacomb, +into a tunnel, illuminated by electricity, wherein slowly, with an +inexorability that was crushing to the human soul, was revolving within +its oily couch the gigantean shaft, exactly like a living monster +that had stretched itself out in this tunnel. Meanwhile, amidship +the _Atlantida_, its warm and luxurious cabins, its dining halls and +ball rooms, poured forth radiance and joyousness, were humming with +the voices of a well-dressed gathering, were sweetly odorous with +fresh flowers, and the strains of the stringed orchestra were their +song. And again excruciatingly writhed and at intervals came together +among this throng, among this glitter of lights, silks, diamonds +and bared feminine shoulders, the supple pair of hired lovers: the +sinfully-modest, very pretty young woman, with eye-lashes cast down, +with a chaste coiffure, and the well-built young man, with black hair +that seemed to be pasted on, with his face pale from powder, shod in +the most elegant of patent-leather foot-gear, clad in a tight-fitting +dress coat with long tails,--an Adonis who resembled a huge leech. And +none knew that, already for a long time, this pair had grown wearied of +languishing dissemblingly in their blissful torment to the sounds of +the shamelessly-sad music,--nor that far, far below, at the bottom of +the black hold, stood a tarred coffin, in close proximity to the sombre +and sultry depths of the ship that was toilsomely overpowering the +darkness, the ocean, the snow storm.... + +_1915._ + + +THE END + + + + +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + + +Page 24, 245: Misprinted single quote corrected to double quote. + +Page 162: Extraneous closing quote removed after “in pleasing +Lushka....”; and page 238, after “brought to an end quick....” + +Page 185: Comma added after “I’ve done for him”, before the closing +quote. + +Page 197: The quote beginning with “I can’t catch her nohow” is missing +a closing quote mark. This has been left as-is. + +Typos corrected: “submissve” to “submissive” (page 87); “Bittnerness” +to “Bitterness” (page 171); “trouser’s-pocket” to “trousers’-pocket” +(page 180); “pronounciation” to “pronunciation” (page 178); “acquiver” +to “aquiver” (page 222); “there is was just” to “there it was just” +(page 234); “that it, eh, So” to “that it, eh, so” (page 235); +“tremblng” to “trembling” (page 257); “the grave itelf” to “the grave +itself” (page 275). + +Original spelling of “acrost”, “faery”, and “piazetta” retained. + +Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been left unchanged. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78224 *** diff --git a/78224-h/78224-h.htm b/78224-h/78224-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4d5b40 --- /dev/null +++ b/78224-h/78224-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11086 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="format-detection" content="telephone=no,date=no,address=no,email=no,url=no"> + <title> + The Dreams of Chang and Other Stories | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} +table.autotable { border-collapse: collapse; } +table.autotable td, +table.autotable th { padding: 0.25em; } + +.tdl {text-align: left;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} /* page numbers */ + +blockquote { + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.allsmcap {font-variant: small-caps; text-transform: lowercase;} + +figcaption {font-weight: bold;} +figcaption p {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: .2em; text-align: inherit;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +/* Footnotes */ + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {text-align: left; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%;} +.poetry .stanza {margin: 1em auto;} +.poetry .verse {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + +.ph2 { + text-align: center; + font-size: x-large; + font-weight: bold; +} +.transnote { + margin-left:17.5%; + margin-right:17.5%; +} + +/* Conventional dropcaps */ +p.dropcap { + text-indent: 0em; +} +p.dropcap:first-letter { + float: left; + margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em; + font-size: 250%; + line-height: 0.85em; +} +.x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { + float: none; + margin: 0; + font-size: 100%; +} + +.upper-case +{ + text-transform: uppercase; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .ep6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +li { margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom:0; line-height: 1.2em; } + +/* Poetry indents */ +.poetry .indent0 {text-indent: -3.0em;} + + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowp50 {width: 50%;} +.illowp100 {width: 100%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78224 ***</div> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_front_cover" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/front_cover.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> + + +<p class="center" style="font-size: large;"><i>The</i> DREAMS <i>of</i> CHANG</p> + +<p class="center">AND OTHER STORIES</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p> + + +<p class="center ep6"><i>Also by</i> IVAN BUNIN</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0.1em;">THE VILLAGE</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: small;"><i>Authorized translation from the Russian<br> +by<br> +ISABEL F. HAPGOOD</i></p> + +<p class="center p2" style="font-size: small;">NEW YORK: ALFRED · A · KNOPF</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> + + +<h1 style="line-height: 1.5; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: xx-large; color: #e76331;"><i>The</i> DREAMS <i>of</i> CHANG</span><br> +<span style="font-size: x-large;">AND OTHER STORIES</span></h1> + +<p class="center p4" style="line-height: 1.5;"><i>Authorized translation from the Russian of</i><br> + +<span style="font-size: x-large;">IVAN BUNIN</span><br> + +<i>by Bernard Guilbert Guerney</i></p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowp50" id="colophon" style="max-width: 6em; margin-top: 4em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/colophon.jpg" alt="" data-role="presentation"> +</figure> + +<p class="center p4">NEW YORK<br> +<span style="font-size: large; color: #e76331;">ALFRED · A · KNOPF</span><br> +1923</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span></p> + + +<p class="center" style="font-size: small;">COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC.</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size: small;"><i>Published, September, 1923</i></p> + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 10em; font-size: small;"><i>Set up, electrotyped, and printed by the Vail-Ballou Co., Binghamton, N. Y.<br> +Paper furnished by W. F. Etherington & Co., New York.<br> +Bound by H. Wolff Estate, New York.</i></p> + +<p class="center p2" style="font-size: small;">MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS"> + CONTENTS + </h2> +</div> + + +<table class="autotable"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +THE DREAMS OF CHANG +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#THE_DREAMS_OF_CHANG">9</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +A COMPATRIOT +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#A_COMPATRIOT">34</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +BRETHREN +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#BRETHREN">46</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +GAUTAMI +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#GAUTAMI">86</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +THE SON +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#THE_SON">91</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +LIGHT BREATHING +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#LIGHT_BREATHING">110</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +AN EVENING IN SPRING +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#AN_EVENING_IN_SPRING">119</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +THE SACRIFICE +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#THE_SACRIFICE">137</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +AGLAIA +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#AGLAIA">144</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +THE GRAMMAR OF LOVE +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#THE_GRAMMAR_OF_LOVE">158</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +A NIGHT CONVERSATION +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#A_NIGHT_CONVERSATION">173</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +A GOODLY LIFE +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#A_GOODLY_LIFE">209</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +“I SAY NOTHING” +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#I_SAY_NOTHING">248</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +DEATH +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#DEATH">268</a> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> +THE GENTLEMAN FROM SAN FRANCISCO +</td> +<td class="tdr"> +<a href="#THE_GENTLEMAN_FROM">280</a> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="TRANSLATION"> + <i>TRANSLATION</i> + </h2> +</div> + + +<p> +<i>Dear Mr. Knopf</i>, +</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 1em;">I have much pleasure in hereby confirming the +fact that you are the only publisher authorized +by me to issue in the United States of North +America my two books: the collection of short +stories entitled “The Gentleman from San Francisco” +and the novel, “The Village.”</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 1em;">With assurances of the highest esteem,</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5em;"> + <span style="margin-left: 1.0em;">I remain,</span><br> + <span style="margin-left: 2.0em;">dear Sir,</span><br> + <span style="margin-left: 3.0em;">yours very truly,</span><br> + <span style="margin-left: 4.0em;"><span class="smcap">I. Bounine</span> (<span class="smcap">I. Bunin</span>)</span> +</p> + +<p>Paris, 21-4-23.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span></p> + + +<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="i_007" style="max-width: 28em;"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i_007.png" alt="Handwritten letter, in French, by the author to the publisher. The English translation is on page 6."> +</figure> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a><a id="Page_9"></a>[Pg 9]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DREAMS_OF_CHANG"> + THE DREAMS OF CHANG + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">What</span> does it matter of whom we speak? Any +that have lived and that live upon this earth +deserve to be the subject of our discourse.</p> + +<p>Once upon a time Chang had come to know the universe +and the captain, his master, to whom his earthly +existence had become linked. And six entire years have +run since then,—have run like the sands in a ship’s hourglass.</p> + +<p>It is again night,—dream or reality? And again comes +morning,—reality or dream? Chang is old, Chang is a +drunkard,—he is always dozing.</p> + +<p>Outside, in the city of Odessa, it is winter. The +weather is nasty, sullen,—far worse than that of China was +when Chang and the captain met each other. Fine, stinging +snow whirls through the air; it flies obliquely over +the ice-covered, slippery asphalt of the desolate seaside +boulevard, and painfully lashes the face of every running +Jew who, with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, +and with his shoulders hunched up, is zigzagging to the +left and right,—awkwardly, Hebraically. Beyond the +harbour, likewise deserted, beyond the bay, hazy from the +snow, the barren shores, low and flat, are faintly visible. +The jetty is hazy all the time with a thick, gray haze: +the sea, in foamy, bellying waves, surges over it from +morn till night. The wind whistles and reverberates +among the telephone wires overhead....</p> + +<p>On such days life in the city does not start at an early +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span>hour. Nor do Chang and the captain awake early. Six +years,—is it a long time, or short? In six years Chang +and the captain have grown old, although the captain is +not yet forty; and their lot has harshly changed. They +no longer sail the seas,—they live “on shore,” as seamen +say; nor are they living in the same place they lived in +at one time, but in a narrow and rather dark street, in a +garret; the house is redolent of anthracite, and is occupied +by Jews,—of the sort that come to their families only +toward evening and who sup with their hats shoved on +the back of their heads. Chang and the captain have +a low ceiling; their room is large and chill. Besides that, +it is always gloomy and dark inside; the two windows +placed in the sloping wall-roof are small and round, reminding +one of port-holes. Something in the nature of a +chest of drawers stands between the windows, and against +the wall to the left is an old iron bed,—and there you +have all the furnishings of this bleak dwelling,—unless +the fireplace, out of which a fresh wind is always blowing, +be included.</p> + +<p>Chang sleeps in the nook behind the fireplace; the +captain on the bed. What sort of a bed this is, sagging +almost to the floor, and what kind of mattress it has, +any one who has lived in garrets can easily imagine; as +for the dirty pillow, it is so scanty that the captain is +forced to put his jacket under it. However, the captain +sleeps very peacefully even on this bed; he lies on his +back, his eyes shut and his face ashen, as motionless as +though he were dead. What a splendid bed had formerly +been his! Well built, high, with chests underneath; the +bedding was thick and snug, the sheets fine and smooth, +and the snowy-white pillows were chilling! But even +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span>then, even when lulled by the rolling of the waves, he +had not slept as heavily as he sleeps now: now he gets +very tired during the day, and besides that, what has he to +worry about now,—what can he oversleep, and with what +can the new day gladden him? At one time there had +been two truths in this world, that had constantly stood +sentry in turns: the first was, that life is unutterably beautiful; +and the second, that life holds a meaning only for +lunatics. Now the captain affirms that there is, has been, +and will be for all eternity but one truth,—the ultimate +truth, the truth of Job the Hebrew, the truth of Ecclesiastes, +the sage of an unknown tribe. Often does the captain +say now, as he sits in some beer shop: “Remember +now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil +days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt +say, I have no pleasure in them!” Still the days and +nights go on as before, and now there has again been a +night, and again morning is coming on. And the captain +and Chang are awaking.</p> + +<p>But, having waked, the captain does not change his +position and does not open his eyes. His thoughts at +that moment are not known even to Chang, who is lying +on the floor beside the fireless hearth from which the +freshness of the sea had come all night. Chang is aware +of only one thing,—that the captain will lie thus for not +less than an hour. Chang, after casting a look at the +captain out of the corner of his eye, again closes his lids, +and again dozes off. Chang, too, is a drunkard; in the +morning he, too, is befuddled, weak, and beholds the universe +with that languid queasiness which is so familiar +to all those travelling on ships and suffering from sea-sickness. +And because of that, as he dozes off, in this +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span>morning hour, Chang sees a dream that is tormenting, +wearisome....</p> + +<p>He sees:</p> + +<p>An old, rheumy-eyed Chinaman has clambered up onto +a steamer’s deck, and has squatted down on his heels; +whiningly, he importunes all those who pass by him to +buy a wicker-basket of spoilt small fish which he has +brought with him. It is a dusty and a chill day on a +broad Chinese river. In the boat with a bamboo sail, +swaying in the muddy water of the river, a puppy is sitting,—a +little rusty dog, having about it something of the +fox and something of the wolf, with thick, coarse fur at +its neck; sternly and intelligently his black eyes look up +and down the high iron side of the steamer, and his ears +are cocked.</p> + +<p>“Better sell your dog!” gaily and loudly, as though to +a deaf man, the young captain of the ship, who was +standing idling on his bridge, yelled to the Chinaman.</p> + +<p>The Chinaman,—Chang’s first master,—cast his eyes +upward; confused, both by the yell and by joy, he +began bowing and lisping: “Ve’y good dog, ve’y +good.”⁠<a id="FNanchor_*_1" href="#Footnote_*_1" class="fnanchor">[*]</a> And the puppy was purchased,—for only a +single silver rouble,—was called Chang, and sailed off on +that very day with his new master to Russia; and, in the +beginning, for three whole weeks, he suffered so with sea-sickness, +and was in such a daze, that he saw nothing: +neither the ocean nor Singapore, nor Colombo....</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_*_1" href="#FNanchor_*_1" class="label">[*]</a> In English in the original. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>It had been the beginning of autumn in China; the +weather was bad. And Chang felt qualmish when they +had barely passed into the estuary. They were met by +lashing rain and mist; white-caps glimmered over the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span>plain of waters; the gray-green swell swayed, rushed, +plashed, many-pointed and senseless; meanwhile, the flat +shores were spreading, losing themselves in the fog,—and +there was more and more water all around. Chang, in +his fur coat, silvery from the rain, and the captain, in a +waterproof great-coat with the hood raised, were on the +bridge, whose height could be felt now more than before. +The captain issued commands, while Chang shivered and +tossed his head in the wind. The water was widening, +embracing all the inclement horizon, blending with +the misty sky. The wind tore the spray from the great +noisy swell, swooping down from any and every direction; +it whistled through the sail-yards and boomingly +slapped the canvas awnings below; the sailors, in the +meanwhile, in iron-shod boots and wet capes, were untying, +catching and furling them. The wind was seeking +the best spot from which to strike its strongest blow, and +just as soon as the steamer, slowly bowing before it, had +taken a sharper turn to the right, the wind raised it up on +such a huge, boiling roller, that it could not hold back; it +plunged down from the ridge of the roller, burying itself +in the foam,—and in the pilot’s round-house a coffee cup, +forgotten upon a little table by the waiter, shattered +against the floor with a ring.... And then the fun began!</p> + +<p>There were all sorts of days after that: now the sun +would blaze down scorchingly out of the radiant azure; +now clouds would pile up in mountains and burst with +peals of terrifying thunder; or raging torrents of rain +descended in floods upon the steamer and the sea; or else +there was rocking,—yes, rocking, even when the ship was +at anchor. Utterly worn out, Chang during all the three +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span>weeks did not once forsake his corner in the hot, half-dark +corridor of the second-class cabins on the poop, +where he lay near the high threshold of the door leading +onto the deck. Only once a day was this door opened, +when the captain’s orderly brought food to Chang. And +of the entire voyage to the Red Sea Chang’s memory has +retained only the creaking of the ship’s partitions, his +nausea, and the sinking of his heart, now flying downward +into some abyss together with the quivering stern, now +rising up to heaven with it; also did he remember his +prickly, deathly terror whenever, with the sound of a +cannon firing, a whole mountain of water would splash +against this stern, after it had been raised high and had +again careened to one side, with its propeller roaring in +the air; the water would extinguish the daylight in the +port holes, and then would run down in opaque torrents +over their thick glass. The sick Chang heard the distant +cries of commands, the thundering whistle of the boatswain, +the tramp of sailors’ feet somewhere overhead; he +heard the plash and the noise of the water; he could distinguish +through his half-shut eyes the semi-dark corridor +filled with jute bails of tea,—and Chang went daft, +became tipsy, from nausea, heat, and the strong odour of +tea....</p> + +<p>But here Chang’s dream breaks off.</p> + +<p>Chang starts and opens his eyes: that was no wave +hitting against the stern with a sound of a cannon firing,—it +was the jarring of a door somewhere below, flung +back with force by somebody or other. And after this +the captain coughingly clears his throat and slowly arises +from his sagging couch. He puts on and laces his +battered shoes, dons his black coat with the brass buttons, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span>taking it out from under the pillow; Chang, in the meanwhile, +in his rusty, worn fur coat, yawns discontentedly, +with a whine, having risen from the floor. Upon the +chest of drawers is a bottle of vodka, some of which has +already been drunk. The captain drinks straight out of +the bottle, and, slightly out of breath, wiping his +moustache, he goes toward the fireplace and pours out +some vodka into a little bowl standing near Chang for +him as well. Chang starts lapping it greedily. As for +the captain, he begins smoking and lies down again, to +await the hour when it will be full day. The distant +rumble of the tramway can already be heard; already, far +below in the street, flows the ceaseless clamping of horses’ +hoofs; but it is still too early to go out. And the captain +lies and smokes. Having done with his lapping, Chang, +too, lies down. He jumps up onto the bed, curls up in a +ball at the feet of the captain, and slowly floats away into +that blissful state which vodka always bestows. His +half-shut eyes grow misty, he looks faintly at his master, +and, feeling a constantly increasing tenderness toward +him, thinks what in human speech may be expressed as +follows: “Oh, you foolish, foolish fellow! There is but +one truth in this world, and if you but knew what a +wonderful truth it is!” And again, in something between +thought and dream, Chang reverts to that distant +morning, when the steamer, after carrying the captain +and Chang from China over the tormented restless ocean, +had entered the Red Sea....</p> + +<p>He dreams:</p> + +<p>As they passed Perim, the steamer swayed less and less, +as though it were lulling him asleep, and Chang fell into +a sweet and sound sleep. And suddenly he started, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span>awake. And, when he had become awake, he was +astonished beyond all measure: it was quiet everywhere; +the stern was rhythmically vibrating, without any downward +plunges; the noise of the water, rushing somewhere +beyond the walls, was even; the warm odour from the +kitchen, creeping out on deck from underneath a door, +was enchanting.... Chang got up on his hind legs and +looked into the deserted general cabin,—there, in the +obscurity, was a softly radiant, aureately-lilac something; +a something barely perceptible to the eye, but +extraordinarily joyous; there the rear port holes were +open to the sunlit blue void, open to the spaciousness, +to the air, while over the low ceiling streamed sinuous +rills of light reflected from mirrors,—they flowed on, +without flowing away.... And the same thing happened +to Chang that had also happened more than once in those +days to his master, the captain: he suddenly comprehended +that there existed in this universe not one truth, +but two truths: one, that to be living in this world and to +sail the seas was a dreadful thing, and the other.... But +Chang did not have time to think of the other,—through +the door, unexpectedly flung open, he saw the trap-ladder +leading to the spar-deck, the black, glistening mass of the +steamer’s funnel, the clear sky of a summer morning, and, +coming rapidly from under the ladder, out of the engine +room, the captain. He had shaved and washed; there +was the fragrance of fresh Eau-de-cologne about him; +his fair moustache turned upward, after the German +fashion; the glance of his light, keen eyes was sparkling, +and everything upon him was tight-fitting and snowy +white. And upon beholding all this Chang darted forward +so joyously that the captain caught him in the air, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>kissed him resoundingly on the head, and, turning him +about, carrying him in his arms, with a hop, skip and a +jump came out on the spar-deck, then the upper deck, +and from there still higher, to that very bridge where it +had been so terrible in the estuary of the great Chinese +river.</p> + +<p>On the bridge the captain entered the pilot’s round-house, +while Chang, who had been dropped to the floor, +sat for a space, his fox-like brush unfurled to its full +length over the smooth boards. It was very hot and +radiant behind Chang, from the low-lying sun. It must +also have been hot in Arabia, that was passing by so +near on the right, with its shore of gold, with its black-brown +mountains, its peaks, that resembled the mountains +of some dead planet, also all deeply strewn with gold +dust; Arabia, its entire sandy and mountainous waste +visible with such extraordinary distinctness that it +seemed as if one could jump over there. And above, on +the bridge, the morning could still be felt, there was still +the pull of a light, fresh coolness; the captain’s mate,—the +very same who later on used so often to make Chang +furious by blowing into his nose,—a man in white clothes, +with a white helmet and wearing fearful black spectacles, +was sauntering briskly back and forth over the bridge, +constantly looking up at the sharp tip of the front mast +that reached up to the sky, and over which was curling +the flimsiest wisp of a cloud.... Then the captain +called out from the round-house: “Here, Chang! Come +on and have coffee!” and Chang immediately jumped +up, circled the round-house, and deftly dashed over its +brass threshold. And beyond the threshold it proved to +be even better than on the bridge: there was a broad +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span>leather divan, fixed to the wall; over it hung certain +things like wall-clocks, their glass and hands glistening; +and on the floor was a slop-bowl with a mixture of sweet +milk and bread. Chang began lapping it greedily, while +the captain busied himself with his work. Upon the +counter, placed under the window opposite the divan, he +unrolled a large maritime chart, and, placing a ruler over +it, firmly drew a long line upon it with scarlet ink. +Chang, having finished his lapping, with milk on his muzzle, +jumped up on the counter and sat down near the very +window, out of which he could see the blue turned-over +collar of a sailor in a roomy blouse, who, with his back to +the window, was standing at the many-horned wheel. +And at this point the captain, who, as it turned out afterward, +was very fond of having a chat when he was all +alone with Chang, said to him:</p> + +<p>“You see, brother, this is the Red Sea itself. You and +I have to pass through it as cleverly as we can,—just see +how gaily coloured it is! I have to land you in Odessa +in good order, because they already know there of your +existence. I have already blabbed about you to a most +capricious little girl; I have bragged to her about your +lordship, over a sort of long cable, d’you understand, +that has been laid down by clever people over the bottom +of all the seas and oceans.... For after all, Chang, I am +an awfully lucky fellow, so lucky that you can’t even +imagine it, and for that reason I am terribly averse to +getting stuck on one of these reefs, to have no end of +disgrace on my first distant cruise....”</p> + +<p>And, saying this, the captain suddenly gave Chang a +stern look and slapped his muzzle:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> + +<p>“Paws off!” he cried commandingly. “Don’t you dare +climb on government property!”</p> + +<p>And Chang, with a toss of his head, growled and +puckered up his face. This was the first slap he had ever +received, and he was offended; it again seemed to him +that to be living in this world and to be sailing the seas +was an atrocious thing. He turned away, his translucently +yellow eyes dimming and contracting, and with +a low growl he bared his wolfish fangs. But the captain +did not consider Chang’s offended feelings of any importance. +He lit a cigarette and returned to the divan; +having taken a gold watch out of a side pocket of his +<i>piqué</i> jacket, he pried back its lids with a strong nail, and +looking upon a glistening, unusually animated, bustling +something which ran and resoundingly whispered within +the watch, again began speaking in a comradely tone. +He again told Chang that he was bringing him to Odessa, +to Elissavetinskaya Street; that in Elissavetinskaya +Street he, the captain, had apartments, first of all; +secondly, a wife who was a beauty; and, thirdly, a wonderful +little daughter; and that he, the captain, was a +very lucky fellow after all.</p> + +<p>“A lucky fellow, after all, Chang!” said the captain, +and then added:</p> + +<p>“This daughter of mine, Chang, is a lively little girl, +full of curiosity and persistence,—it is going to be bad +for you at times, especially for your tail! But if you +only knew, Chang, what a beautiful creature she is! +I love her so much, brother, that at times I am even +afraid of my love: she is all the world to me,—well, +almost all, let us say; but is that as it should be? And, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span>in general, should any one be loved so greatly?” he asked. +“For, were all these Buddhas of yours more foolish than +you and I? And yet, just you listen to what they say +about this love of the universe and all things corporeal, +beginning with sunlight, with a wave, with the air, and +winding up with woman, with an infant, with the scent +of white acacia! Or else,—do you know what sort of a +thing this Tao is, that has been thought up by nobody +else but you Chinamen? I know it but poorly myself, +brother, but then, everybody knows it poorly; but, as +far as it is possible to understand it, just what is it, after +all? The Abyss, our First Mother; She gives birth to all +things that exist in this universe, and She devours them +as well, and, devouring them, gives birth to them anew; +or, to put it in other words, It is the Path of all that exists, +which nothing that exists may resist. But we resist +It every minute; every minute we want to turn to our +desire not only the soul of a beloved woman, let us say, +but even the entire universe as well! It is an eerie thing +to be living in this world, Chang,” said the captain; “it’s +a most pleasant thing, but still an eerie one, and especially +for such as I! For I am too avid of happiness, and +all too often do I lose the way: dark and evil is this +Path,—or is it entirely, entirely otherwise?”</p> + +<p>And, after a silence, he added further:</p> + +<p>“For after all, what is the main thing? When you +love somebody, there is no power on earth that can make +you believe that the one you love can possibly not love +you. And that is just where the devil comes in, Chang. +But how magnificent life is; my God, how magnificent!”</p> + +<p>Made red hot by the now high risen sun, and quivering +slightly as it ran, the steamer was tirelessly cleaving the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span>Red Sea, now stilled in the abyss of the sultry empyrean +spaciousness. The radiant void of the tropical sky was +peeping in through the door of the round-house. Noonday +was approaching; the brass threshold simply blazed +in the sun. The glassy swell rolled more and more +slowly over the side, flaring up with a blinding glitter, +and lighting up the round-house. Chang was sitting on +the divan, listening to the captain. The captain, who +had been patting Chang on the head, shoved him to the +floor: “No, it’s too hot, brother!” said he; but this time +Chang was not offended,—it was too fine a thing to be +living in this world on this joyous noonday. And +then....</p> + +<p>But here again Chang’s dream is interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Chang!” says the captain, dropping his +feet down from the bed. And again in astonishment +Chang sees that he is not on a steamer on the Red Sea, +but in a garret in Odessa, and that it really is noonday +outside,—not a joyous noonday, however, but a dark, +dreary, inimical one, and he growls softly at the captain +who has disturbed him. But the captain, paying no +attention to him, puts on his old uniform cap and his +old uniform great coat, and, shoving his hands deep in +his pockets and all hunched up, goes toward the door. +Willy-nilly, Chang, too, has to jump down from the bed. +It is a hard thing for the captain to descend the stairs +and he has no heart for it, as though he were doing it +under the compulsion of harsh necessity. Chang rolls +along rather rapidly,—he is still enlivened by that yet +unallayed irritation with which the blissful state induced +by vodka always ends....</p> + +<p>Yes,—it is two years now since Chang and the captain +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span>have been occupied, day in and day out, in visiting one +restaurant after another. There they drink, have snacks, +contemplate the other drunkards who drink and have +snacks alongside of them, amid the noise, tobacco smoke, +and all sorts of bad odours. Chang lies on the floor, at +the captain’s feet. As for the captain, he sits and smokes, +his elbows firmly planted on the table,—a habit he has +acquired at sea; he is awaiting that hour when it will be +necessary, in accordance with some law which he had himself +mentally formulated, to migrate to some other restaurant +or coffee-house: Chang and the captain breakfast +in one place, drink coffee in another, dine in a third, and +sup in a fourth. Usually the captain is silent. But there +are times when the captain meets some one of his erstwhile +friends, and then he talks all day long without cease +of the insignificance of life, and every minute regales with +wine now himself, now his <i>vis à vis</i>, now Chang,—the +last always has some bit of china on the floor before him. +They would pass the present day also in precisely the +same way: they had agreed to breakfast this day with a +certain old friend of the captain’s, an artist in a high silk +hat. And that meant that at first they would sit in a +certain malodorous beer-shop, among red-faced Germans,—stolid, +business-like people, who worked from morn till +night with, of course, the sole aim of drinking, eating, +working all over again, and propagating others of their +kind. Then they would go to a coffee-house filled to +overflowing with Greeks and Jews, whose entire existence, +likewise senseless but exceedingly perturbed, was +swallowed up in ceaseless expectation of stock-exchange +news: and from the coffee-house they would set out for a +restaurant whither flocked all sorts of human rag-tag, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span>and there they would sit far into the night....</p> + +<p>A winter day is short, but with a bottle of wine, sitting +in conversation with a friend, it is still shorter. And +now Chang, the captain, and the artist had already been +both in the beer-shop and in the coffee-house, and it is +the sixth hour that they have been sitting and drinking +in the restaurant. And again the captain, having put his +elbows on the table, is ardently assuring the artist that +there is but one truth in this world,—a truth evil and +base. “You just look about you,” he is saying, “you +just recall all those that you and I see every day in the +beer-shop, in the coffee-house, and out on the street! My +friend, I have seen the entire earthly globe—life is like +that all over! Everything that these people pretend as +constituting their life is all bosh and a lie: they have +neither God, nor conscience, nor a sensible purpose in +existing, nor love, nor friendship, nor honesty,—there is +even no common pity. Life is a dreary, winter day in a +filthy tavern, no more....”</p> + +<p>And Chang, lying under the table, hears all this in the +fog of a tipsiness, in which there is no longer any +exhilaration. Does he agree with the captain, or does he +not? It is impossible to answer this definitely,—but +since it is impossible, it means that things are in a bad +way. Chang does not know, does not understand, whether +the captain is right; but then, it is only when we experience +sorrow that we all say: “I do not know, I do +not understand,”—whereas when joy is its portion every +living being is convinced that it knows all things, understands +all things.... But suddenly a ray of sunlight +seems to cut through this fog of tipsiness: there is a +sudden tapping of a baton against a music stand on the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span>band-stand of the restaurant—and a violin begins to +sing, followed by a second, a third.... They sing more +and more passionately, more and more sonorously,—and +a minute later Chang’s soul overflows with an +entirely different yearning, with an entirely different +sadness. His soul quivers from an incomprehensible +rapture, from some sweet torment, from a longing for +something indefinite,—and Chang no longer distinguishes +whether he is in a dream or awake. He yields with all his +being to the music, submissively follows it into some +other world—and once more he sees himself on the +threshold of that beautiful world; silly, with a faith in +the universe, a puppy on board a steamer in the Red +Sea....</p> + +<p>“Yes, but how was it?” he half-thinks, half-dreams. +“Yes, I remember: it was a good thing to be alive on that +hot noonday on the Red Sea!” Chang and the captain +were sitting in the round-house; later on they stood on +the ship’s bridge.... Oh, how much light there was; +what a deep blue the sea was, and how azure the sky! +How amazingly vivid against the background of the sky +were all these white, red, and yellow sailors’ blouses hung +out to dry at the prow! Then, afterwards, Chang and +the captain and the other men of the ship (whose faces +were brick-red, with oily eyes, whereas their foreheads +were white and perspiring), breakfasted in the hot +general cabin of first-class, under an electric ventilator +buzzing and blowing out of a corner. After breakfast +Chang took a little nap; after tea he had dinner, and +after dinner he was again sitting aloft, before the pilot’s +round-house, where a steward had placed a canvas chair +for the captain, and gazing far out at the sea; at the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span>sunset, tenderly green among the many-coloured and +many-formed little clouds; at the sun, wine-red and shorn +of its beams, that, as soon as it had touched the turbid +horizon, lengthened out and took on the semblance of a +dark-flamed mitre.... Rapidly did the steamer run in +pursuit of it; over the side the smooth, watery humps +simply flashed by, giving off a sheen of blueish-lilac +shagreen. But the sun hastened on and on,—the sea +seemed to be absorbing it,—and kept on decreasing and +decreasing, and became an elongated, glowing ember. It +began to quiver and went out; and, as soon as it had gone +out, the shadow of some sadness immediately fell upon +all the world, and the wind, constantly blowing harder +as the night came on, became still more turbulent. The +captain, gazing at the dark flame of the sunset, was +sitting with his head bared, his hair a-flutter in the wind, +and his face was pensive, proud, and sad. And one +felt that he was happy none the less, and that not +only this entire steamer, running on at his will, but all the +universe as well was in his power; because at that moment +all the universe was in his soul,—and also because even +then there was the odour of wine on his breath....</p> + +<p>And when the night fell, it was awesome and magnificent. +It was black, disquieting, with an unruly wind, +and with such a vivid glow from the waves swirling up +around the steamer that Chang, who was trotting behind +the captain as the latter rapidly and ceaselessly paced the +deck, would jump away with a yelp from the side of the +ship. And the captain again picked Chang up in his +arms, and putting his cheek against Chang’s beating +heart,—for it beat in precisely the same way as the captain’s—walked +with him to the very end of the deck, on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span>to the poop, and stood there for a long time in the darkness, +bewitching Chang with a wondrous and horrible spectacle: +from under the towering, enormous stern, from +under the dully raging propeller, myriads of white-flamed +needles were pouring forth with a crisp swishing; they extricated +themselves and were instantly whirled away into +the snowy, sparkling path that the steamer was laying +down. Now, again, there would be enormous blue stars: +now some sort of tightly-coiled blue globes that would explode +vividly, and, fading out, smoulder mysteriously with +pale-green phosphorescence within the boiling watery +hummocks. The wind, coming from all directions, beat +strongly and softly upon Chang’s muzzle, ruffling and +chilling the thick fur upon his chest; and, nestling closely +to the captain, as though they were both of the same kin, +Chang scented an odour that seemed to be that of cold +sulphur, breathed in the air coming from the furrowed +inmost depths of the sea. And the stern kept on quivering; +it was lowered and lifted by some great and unutterably +free force, and Chang swayed and swayed, +excitedly contemplating this blind and dark, yet an +hundredfold living, dully turbulent Bottomless Gulf. +And at times some especially mischievous and ponderous +wave, noisily flying past the stern, would illumine the +hands and the silvery clothes of the captain with an +eldritch glow....</p> + +<p>On this night the captain for the first time brought +Chang into his large and cozy cabin, softly illuminated +by a lamp under a red silk shade. Upon the writing +table, that was squeezed in tightly near the captain’s bed, +in the light and shade thrown by the lamp, stood two +narrow frames, holding two photographic portraits: one of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span>a pretty little petulant girl in curly locks, seated at her +capricious ease in a deep arm-chair; and the other that of +a young woman, taken almost at full length, with a white +lace parasol over her shoulder, in a large lace hat, and +wearing a smart spring dress,—she was stately, slender, +beautiful and pensive, like some Georgian <i>tsarevna</i>. And +the captain said, as he undressed to the noise of the black +waves beyond the open window:</p> + +<p>“This woman won’t like you and me, Chang! There +are some feminine souls, brother, which languish eternally +in a certain pensive yearning for love, and who just for +that very same reason never love anybody. There are +such,—and how shall they be judged for all their heartlessness, +falsehood, their dreams of going on the stage, of +owning an automobile, of yachting picnics, of some +sportsman or other, who pretends to be an Englishman, +and tortures his hair, all greasy with pomatum, into a +straight parting? Who shall divine them? Everyone +according to his or her lights, Chang; and are they not +fulfilling the innermost secret behests of Tao Itself, even as +they are being fulfilled by some sea-creature that is now +freely going upon its way in these black, fiery-armoured +waves?”</p> + +<p>“Oo-oo!” said the captain, sitting down on a chair and +unlacing his white shoe. “What didn’t I go through, +Chang, when I felt for the first time that she was not +entirely mine,—on that night when for the first time +she had gone alone to the Yacht Club ball and had +returned toward morning, like a wilted rose, pale +from fatigue and her still unabated excitement, with her +eyes all dark, widened, and distant from me! If you +only knew how inimitably she wanted to hoodwink me, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span>with what artless wonder she asked: ‘But aren’t you +asleep yet, poor dear?’ Right then I could not have +uttered even a word, and she understood me at once and +became silent; she merely threw a quick glance at me,—and +began undressing in silence. I wanted to kill her, +but she dryly and calmly said: ‘Help me unfasten my +dress at the back,’—and I submissively approached her +and began with trembling hands to unfasten all these +hooks and snaps,—and just as soon as I saw her body +through the open dress, saw her back between the +shoulder blades, and her chemise, dropping off the +shoulders and tucked into the corset; just as soon as I +felt the scent of her black hair and caught a glimpse of +her breasts, raised up by the corset, reflected in the bright +pier glass....”</p> + +<p>And, without finishing, the captain waved his hand in a +hopeless gesture.</p> + +<p>He undressed, lay down, and extinguished the light, +and Chang, turning and settling in the morocco chair +near the writing table, saw how the black cerement of the +sea was furrowed by rows of white flame, flaring up and +fading out; saw how some lights flashed up ominously +upon the black horizon; saw how an awesome living +wave would run up from thence and with a menacing +noise would grow higher than the side of the ship, and +look into the cabin,—like some serpent of fairy tale +shining through and through with eyes of the natural +colours of precious stones, shining through and through +with translucent emeralds and sapphires. And he saw +how the steamer thrust it aside and evenly kept on in its +course, amid the ponderous and vacillant masses of this +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span>primordial element, now foreign and inimical to us, that +is called Ocean....</p> + +<p>In the night the captain emitted some sudden cry; and, +frightened himself by this cry, which rang with some +basely-plaintive passion, he instantly awoke. Having +lain for a minute in silence, he sighed and said mockingly:</p> + +<p>“Yes, there’s a story for you! ‘<i>As</i> a jewel of gold in a +swine’s snout, <i>so is</i> a fair woman!...’ Thrice right +art thou, Solomon, Sage of Sages!”</p> + +<p>He found in the darkness his cigarette case and lit a +cigarette, but, having taken two deep puffs at it, he let his +hand drop,—and fell asleep so, with the little red glow of +the cigarette in his hand. And again it grew quiet—only +the waves glittered, swayed, and noisily rushed +past the ship’s side. The Southern Cross from behind +the black clouds....</p> + +<p>But here Chang is deafened by an unexpected thunder +peal. He jumps up in terror. What has happened? +Has the steamer again struck against underwater rocks +through the fault of the intoxicated captain, as was the +case three years ago? Has the captain again fired a +pistol at his beautiful and pensive wife? No; this is not +night all about them now; neither are they at sea, nor in +Elissavetinskaya Street on a wintry noonday,—but in a +brightly-lit restaurant, filled with noise and smoke. It +is the intoxicated captain, who had struck his fist against +the table, and is now shouting to the artist:</p> + +<p>“Bosh, bosh! As a jewel of gold in a swine’s snout,—that’s +what your Woman is! ‘I have decked my bed with +coverings of tapestry, with carved <i>works</i>, with fine linen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span>of Egypt.... Come, let us take our fill of love ... for +the goodman <i>is</i> not at home....’ Bah! Woman! +‘For her house inclineth unto death, and her paths unto +the dead....’ But that is enough, that is enough, my +friend. It is time to go,—they are closing up this place; +come on!”</p> + +<p>And a minute later the captain, Chang, and the artist +are already in the street, where the wind and the snow +make the street-lamps flicker. The captain embraces and +kisses the artist, and they go in different directions. +Chang, sullen and half asleep, is running sidewise over +the sidewalk after the captain, who walks rapidly and unsteadily.... +Again a day has passed,—dream or reality?—and +again darkness, cold, and fatigue reign over +the universe.... No, the captain is right, most assuredly +right: life is simply poisonous and malodorous alcohol, +nothing more....</p> + +<p>Thus, monotonously, do the days and nights of Chang +pass. But suddenly one morning the universe, like a +steamer, runs at full speed against an underwater reef, +hidden from heedless eyes. Awaking on a certain wintry +morning, Chang is struck by the great silence reigning in +the room. He quickly jumps up from his place, rushes +toward the captain’s bed,—and sees that the captain is +lying with his head convulsively thrown back, with his +face grown pallid and chill, with his eyelashes half-open +and unmoving. And, upon seeing these eyelashes, Chang +emits a howl as despairing as if he had been thrown off +his feet and cut in two by a speeding automobile.... +Then, when the door of the room has been taken off its +hinges, when people enter, depart, and arrive again, speaking +loudly,—the most diversified people: porters, police-men, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span>the artist in the high silk hat, and all sorts of other +gentlemen who used to sit in restaurants with the +captain,—then Chang seems to turn to stone.... Oh, +how fearfully the captain had said at one time: “On +that day the keepers of the house shall tremble ... and +those that look out of the windows be darkened ... also +they shall be afraid of <i>that which is</i> high, and fears shall +be in the way ... because man goeth to his long home, +and the mourners go about the streets.... For the +pitcher is broken at the fountain, and the wheel broken +at the cistern....” But Chang does not feel even terror +now. He lies on the floor, his muzzle toward the +corner; he has shut his eyes tight that he might not behold +the universe, might forget it. And the universe +murmurs over him dully and distantly, like the sea over +one who descends deeper and deeper into its abyss.</p> + +<p>But when he does come to himself again, it is near the +doors of a chapel, in the porch. He sits near them with +drooping head; dull, half-dead,—only he is all shaking in +a chill. And suddenly the chapel door is flung open,—and +a wondrous scene, all mellifluously chanting, strikes +the eyes and the heart of Chang. Before Chang is a +semi-dark Gothic chamber, with the red stars of flames, a +whole forest of tropical plants, a coffin of oak raised high +upon a black scaffolding. There is a black throng of +people; there are two women wondrous in their marble-like +beauty and their deep mourning, who seem just like +two sisters of different ages; and, over all this, reverberations, +thunder peals, a choir,—of men sonorously clamorous +of some sorrowful joy of the angels. Solemnity, +confusion, pomp,—and chantings not of this earth, drowning +all else in their strains. And Chang’s every hair +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span>stands up on end from anguish and rapture before this +sonorous vision. And the artist, who, with reddened +eyes, stepped out of the chapel at that moment, stops +in amazement:</p> + +<p>“Chang!” he says in alarm, stooping down to him, +“Chang, what is the matter with you?”</p> + +<p>And, laying a hand that has begun to tremble upon +Chang’s head, he stoops still lower,—and their eyes, filled +with tears, meet with such love for each other, that +Chang’s entire being cries out inaudibly to all the universe: +“Ah, no, no,—there is upon earth some third +truth, that has not been made known to me!”</p> + +<p>That day, having returned from the cemetery, Chang +moves into the house of his third master,—again up +aloft, to a garret; but a garret warm, redolent of cigars, +with rugs upon the floor, with antique furniture placed +about it, and hung with brocaded stuffs.... It is growing +dark; the fireplace is filled with glowing, sombrely-scarlet +lumps of heat; Chang’s new master is seated in a +chair. He had not even taken off his overcoat and his +high silk hat upon returning home; he had sat down with +his cigar in a deep chair, and is now smoking and gazing +into the dusk of his <i>atelier</i>. As for the fatigued, tortured-out +Chang,—he is lying on a rug near the fireplace, his +eyes shut, his muzzle resting on his front paws. And he +dreams, he sees as in a vision:</p> + +<p>Some One is lying there, beyond the darkening city, +beyond the enclosure of the cemetery, in that which is +called a crypt, a grave. But this Some One is not the +captain,—no. If Chang loves and feels the captain, if +he sees him with the vision of memory,—that divine +thing within him which he does not understand himself,—it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span>means that the captain is still with him: in that universe, +without beginning and without end, which is inaccessible +to Death. In this universe there must be but +one truth,—the third; but what that truth is, is known +only to that last Master to whom Chang must now soon +return.</p> + +<p><i>1916.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="A_COMPATRIOT"> + A COMPATRIOT + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">This</span> <i>moujik</i> of Briansk had been brought from the +village to Moscow when he was a little boy; he +had run errands at a merchant’s warehouse in +Iliyinka; he used to fly like an arrow to taverns to get hot +water for tea: seizing the tea kettle, he would dash +through the galleries of the Stariya Riyady—the Old +Shops—drawing, with a dark jet of water, the figure eight +upon the gray floor.... On a brisk winter day, perhaps +with a light snow falling, the Iliyinka thoroughfare would +be black with people; the horses of the cabbies would be +shufflingly trotting along,—but he, in just his shirt and +without a cap (his head resembling a rusty hedgehog), +would jump out of the house, dart off the sidewalk, and +start sliding on his soles upon the ice in the gutter....</p> + +<p>Imagine, then, how strange it is to see this <i>moujik</i> in +the tropics, at the equator! He is sitting in his office in +an old-fashioned house of Dutch architecture. Beyond +the window lies the white city in the blaze of the sun; +there are naked black rickshaw-men, shops of Australian +wares and of precious stones, hotels filled with tourists +from all the ends of the world; in the warm green water +of the harbour float American and Japanese steamers; +beyond the harbour, along the lowlands of the shores, +grow cocoanut groves.... Clad all in white, tall, knotty, +with flaming red hair, with a blueish freckled skin, pale, +energetically exhilarated (or, to put it more simply, just +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span>daft) from the heat, from nervousness, from constant +tipsiness and from business activity,—he is, to look at +him, either a Swede or an Englishman. His desk is all +cluttered with papers, with bills. The air is filled with +the crisp rattling of typewriters. An old Hindu, bare-footed, +in robe and turban, noiselessly and rapidly +changes with his dark, exquisite, silver-ringed hands +little bottles of cold soda water, and every minute, with a +mysterious expression on his face, announces the visitors, +adding “Sir” at every word. But the “Sir” is completely +absorbed in conversation with his friend from Russia, +before whom he is playing the rôle of the affable lord of +this tropical island. Upon the table are several open +boxes of the most expensive cigars; of Turkish, Egyptian, +English and Havana cigarettes. He is a connoisseur of +tobaccos,—as well as of everything else, by the way. +He regales his guest now with this brand, now with the +other, saying, as though in passing: “This, I think isn’t +at all bad....” Throwing a casual glance at some +paper submitted to him, he, in the midst of the conversation, +firmly and abruptly dashes off his signature upon it. +Upon seeing a visitor enter, he changes the expression on +his face, disposes of the matter in hand in two or three +phrases, and again renews the interrupted conversation. +When receiving some dispatch, his manner of opening it +is especially negligent; for a moment, as he runs through +it, he frowns: “What idiots!” he will say vehemently, in +vexation; and throwing the dispatch to one side, immediately +forgets about it,—or pretends that he does +so.... All are idiots to him. He has already succeeded +in astonishing his guest with his self-assurance, his decisive +and sceptical mind, his enormous worldly experience +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span>and his wide acquaintance with people of the most +diverse classes and stations. No matter who among the +celebrities of Moscow is named,—merchants, administrators, +physicians, journalists,—he knows them all, and +knows well, besides, the price of each and all. And what +information does he not possess concerning back-stage +mysteries, exceptional careers, and shady histories!</p> + +<p>His guest had heard a great deal about him while still at +Port Said from a certain friend of this man; which friend +had said, with a cynical gaiety, that Zotov had gone +through fire, water, and brazen pipes. “Ye-es,” this +friend had said, shaking his head with a derisive and +enigmatic smile, “he’s a fine lad!” On the spot the guest +came to know still more, and chiefly through the fragmentary +phrases of Zotov himself. Strangely and unexpectedly +do talents manifest themselves in Russia, and +they work miracles when lucky lots fall to their share! +For he had drawn an unusually lucky lot when he had +come as an urchin to Moscow. He had an uncle there; +a well-fed, clever <i>moujik</i>, who had already attained to a +competence and a consciousness of his own worth; who +knew how, adroitly, without lowering himself, to do a +good turn for any decent gentleman. This uncle worked +in the Sandunovskiya baths, and many of those whom +he enveloped in clouds of hot and fragrant soapy foam +called him by name and liked to chat with him. And +one of these was Nechaev, a liberal, educated Crœsus, a +large-built, stout merchant in gold spectacles. Was it a +hard thing, having thrown a fine, slippery sheet over +the pink, steamed body, to put in a word about his +urchin nephew? And this urchin did not get to twisting +waxen thread, nor to blowing up the fire under sad-irons, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span>but got into a sombre, clean and quiet warehouse on +the Iliyinka. All the rest was a matter of his personal +liveliness and aptitude. Everyone knows how these +lucky fellows and born geniuses begin: during the day the +urchin runs errands; of evenings, by his own volition, +without any guidance, he pours by the dim light of a +candle-end, learning to read and write; in the morning, +before the clerks get in, he, without understanding, but +stubbornly, overcomes the newspaper, and, let the clerks +but open their mouths, he is right there on the spot, all +alert and obedient, catching every word, every +glance.... When he was about twelve this urchin, who +had aroused his employer’s special interest, was taken into +the latter’s home; while in his eighteenth year he was already +in Germany, studying the paper industry, working +as hard as any German,—the foreigners, it would seem, +did not want to believe that he was a Russian. “They +often don’t believe it even now, the blockheads!” said +Zotov, roughly and abruptly, as is his wont, throwing +away one cigarette and immediately lighting another.... +“But, after all, does he resemble a European so very +greatly?” the guest wonders as he looks at his host.</p> + +<p>He is thirty-seven years of age, but seems older. Yes,—in +appearance he is altogether an Englishman; even his +hands are English, the red hair upon them so thick that +they seem to be covered with tow. “But then,” the guest +reflects, “would an Englishman talk so amazingly much +and so animatedly?” Hands really English would not +be trembling at his age, and, moreover, if possessing such +strength as Zotov’s, an Englishman’s face would not be +so pale, so uneasy without any visible cause. Zotov is +wearing black spectacles for the second day now, because +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span>one of his eye-brows is injured,—he slipped, so he +says, on a banana peel in a bar; which means that he +was rather far gone! And yet here, on this island, he is +a personage because of his position. His hold on his +guest’s curiosity and attention does not flag for a minute. +This man, audacious to the verge of insolence, infects +one with his audacity, his energy,—at times even +enraptures. But, listening to him, wondering at him, +one looks upon him and thinks: “But he is drunk,—he +is drunk!” He is always tipsy,—from nervousness, +from the heat, from whiskey; Englishmen drink a great +deal, but, of course, not a single one of them in all this +white city drinks as much as Zotov, nor swallows iced soda +water as avidly, nor smokes such a quantity of cigars +and cigarettes, nor speaks so much and so confusedly....</p> + +<p>After his training abroad he worked at home and enjoyed +the unbounded trust of the man who had brought +him up. But he no longer wanted to know any mean in +his independence, as well as in his expenditures. Sent +into Central Asia, he suddenly, on some trifling pretext, +quarrelled with Nechaev, severing all connections with +him,—and, from a man steadily and surely climbing upward, +was transformed into something very like an adventurer. +He had traversed all of Siberia; had been in +Amur, in China, consumed with impatience to found some +enterprise all his own,—let it be something new, let it +be something he was not familiar with, let it even be of +a predatory nature,—but an enterprise such as would +quickly lead to riches. Having returned to Russia he +had insinuated himself into a great tea firm, besides having +arranged two other posts for himself,—and it is +now the sixth year that he has been living here in the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span>tropics, clad in no mean powers.... It is a rare European +who would have so easily cancelled his fate, amazing +in its successfulness,—or even his specialty, which had +taken so many years of toil to acquire! No European +would have yielded himself to the whims of chance, or +have shouldered not only a governmental post, but also +a steamship agency and a tea business; or have started, +along with all these, certain affairs with pearl-bearing +shells; or would have maintained a black mistress all his +own,—a rare beauty, according to rumour,—to the wonder +of the whole city.... He keeps his counsel very much +to himself, but at times he is very tactless; reveals, with +equal force, now great firmness of character, now unrestraint; +now secretiveness, now loquacity. He flaunts +his common origin and at the same time boasts of his +acquaintance with people of rank; swears, for all he is +worth, at the Russian Government,—and with evident +pride keeps on his desk a photographic portrait of a Russian +Grand Duke, handsome and rather young, who had +personally bestowed this portrait upon him, with a short +signature in autograph. When he is narrating something +that, in his opinion, is humorous, he frequently does not +comprehend that the point of this amusing matter may +be interpreted not at all to his advantage,—for example, +it was from no other source than his own stories that the +guest found out that Zotov had appeared as far too omniscient, +almost as a passer-by, to those men of affairs in +Siberia and Manchuria with whom he so rapidly attained +to terms of intimacy, whom he so quickly charmed at +first with his obligingness and sociability, his mannerisms +of a man used to living on a grand scale, a man conversant +with what is what, in absolutely all things, beginning +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span>with cigars, wine, women, and culminating with +some excavations on the Philippine Islands, rather lethal, +it would seem, on account of an earthly microbe....</p> + +<p>In the evening the guest rides with him beyond the city.</p> + +<p>Beyond the city, on the shore of the ocean, stands a +small but a very fashionable restaurant, where the tourists +and the residents rest from the sultriness of the city, +drinking tea, brandy, and champagne, and admiring the +sunset from the front piazza of the restaurant. They +come there in tiny rickshaws, following one another, over +an endless road amid age-old vegetation, past bungalows +and past the huts of the savages. And for a whole hour +the guest from Russia sees before him only the naked +body of a brown man, carrying him at a run farther and +farther under the green vault of the branches of spreading +trees; and beyond him, beyond this body and black-haired +head, the big white figure of Zotov, sitting high and +erect in his little carriage. Halfway to their destination +he suddenly turns around and, raising his stick, calls out to +his guest:</p> + +<p>“Would you care to drive in?”</p> + +<p>For answer the guest assents,—Zotov had pointed out a +small Buddhistic monastery,—and the savages, breathing +heavily, bathed in perspiration, roll up along the passage +way, lying between the cabins, that stand underneath the +palms and all other species of trees.</p> + +<p>“Well, isn’t this like a bit of our own; isn’t this Russian?” +Zotov is saying, stepping out of his carriage. +“Only in our country is there so unconscionably much +of this verdure, of this forest, so many of these hovels, +so many dirty urchins like these! Just look!” he is saying, +pointing with his stick at the trees, at the huts +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span>and their roofs of leaves and of rushes, at the naked +children, and at the natives, young and old, who have +surrounded the little carriages in their curiosity. “And +the evening, too, is like one of our own,—oppressive, and +so wearisome, so wearisome!” he is saying in irritation, +going in the direction of the old idol temple standing on +a knoll underneath slender cocoanut palms, where a +priest is already waiting, clad in a yellow mantle, with +his right shoulder bared,—his shaven head is small and +pressed in at the temples, and his eyes are black, almost +insane, and have an intense gaze.</p> + +<p>Having entered the dark little sanctuary, the compatriots +take off their helmets, wet with perspiration and +cool on the inner side. The priest points a finger at +their heads and shakes his head: as much as to say that +this is not required.</p> + +<p>“A lot you know, you fool,” says Zotov in Russian; +and for a long while, with a certain strange gravity, gazes +at the fourteen-foot wooden statue, gilded and painted in +red and yellow, lying on its side beyond a sacrificial altar +of black stone, upon which are heaped small coins and +nickel rings, and with the slenderest of brown joss-sticks +sending forth thin jets of aromatic smoke standing upon +it.</p> + +<p>“And how he is painted and lacquered all over, +though!” says Zotov jerkily. “Every bit just like the +wooden bowls and cups sold at our fairs!”</p> + +<p>And he carelessly tosses a heavy gold coin upon the +silver plate extended by the priest....</p> + +<p>When they arrive at the restaurant, his face is almost +chalky, and it is a frightful thing to see the black spectacles +upon it. “For two whole hours I have not been +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span>poisoning myself with anything, have drunk nothing, nor +have I smoked; and because of all that I have become +dead tired,” he is saying. And just as soon as he is seated +at a small table on the little terrace before the restaurant, +over the steep shore, cumbered below with blue bowlders +that eternally bathe in the warm water of the ocean, he +immediately orders champagne.</p> + +<p>The wine is very chill, and they both drink it avidly, +rapidly growing tipsy, and contemplate the darkening +lilac ocean, the infinitely distant sunset, turbidly and tenderly +roseate. A faint, warm breeze is stirring; the +cicadas are drowsily strumming in the brushwood.... +And suddenly Zotov flings his cigarette far from him, +quickly lights another, and again, with the pertinacity of a +maniac, begins talking of the similarity of this island and +Russia.</p> + +<p>The guest smiles. Zotov, hurriedly and not at all +clearly, argues with him. The matter does not lie, he +urges, merely in an outward resemblance.... And it was +not even the resemblance that he had in view, but rather +his reactions.... Perhaps these reactions are not firm, +are unwholesome,—but then, that is another matter.... +The devil himself would go out of his mind in a climate +like this,—it is not a climate to be trifled with.... But +now, in a discussion of all the various dangers of the Far +East, people somehow forget entirely about that fact; +messieurs the Aryans, and especially we Russians, ought to +carry out our conquering expeditions into the tropics with +extreme cautiousness, recalling with a greater frequence +our forefathers and their conquest of Hindustan, so significantly +terminating in Buddhism,—when all is said and +done, it is we, the Aryans, after Thibet intruding ourselves +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span>into the tropics, who have given birth to this teaching, +with its appallingly inapplicable wisdom! And then +he warmly begins to asseverate that “all the force of the +thing” lies in that he had already seen, had already felt +the tropics even before his arrival here, at some time +very remote, perhaps a thousand years ago,—with the +eyes and the soul of his most distant ancestor....</p> + +<p>He tells,—with a subtlety, passionateness and an eloquence +never to be expected from him,—that he had experienced +extraordinary sensations on the way over here, +on those sultry, starry nights when he had first beheld the +Southern Cross, Canopus, and those first-created starry +mists that are called the Clouds of Magellan; when he +had beheld the Coal Sacks, those funereal fissures into the +infinitude of universal voids; and the awesome magnificence +of the Alpha of the Centaur, glimmering upon the +utterly empty horizon, where some immeasurable Nothingness, +unattainable to our reason, seemed to be in +its inception. “Yes, yes!” exclaims he insistently, fixing +the guest with his spectacles: “The horizon was utterly +empty about the Alpha! A spectacle of a new world, of +new heavens, was opened before me, but it seemed to +me,—and this sensation was vivid to the verge of terror +within me, I assure you!—it seemed to me that I had seen +them before, once upon a time. All the days and all +the nights a smooth, dead swell rocked us wide on the +ocean. We were sailing toward an Eastern monsoon; it +blew sharp and strong, and its ceaseless current of +air made the sailyards hum and blurred the vision, and +made our speed seem rapid.... Awaking at night in the +hot darkness of my cabin, I, in order to rest after the exhausting +sleep, would go on the upper decks, out into the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span>wind, under the stars,—altogether different from those I +had seen all my life, from my very birth, and with which +I had already grown intimate; stars that were altogether, +altogether different,—yet at the same not altogether new, +seemingly, but as though they were <i>dimly recalled</i>. +Under their dim light hovered the ceaseless noise of the +sea, the steamer rolled slowly from one side to the other, +and, like strangled suicides in gray shrouds, with arms +outspread, the long canvas ventilators swayed and +quivered near the funnel, avidly catching with their +orifices the freshness of the monsoon, upon which was already +borne toward us the hot breath of the dread Land +of our First Parents. And at such times I would be +seized by such melancholy,—a melancholy of some infinitely +remote recollection,—that one can not express +in human speech even a hundredth part of it!”</p> + +<p>A faint, delightful breeze is stirring; there is a drowsy +strumming in the brushwood. The twilight begins to +swell as with sap with that faery orange-aureate colour +which always arises in the tropics when some time had +elapsed after the sunset. The surf boils up in orange-aureate +foam; the faces and the white costumes are +bathed in an orange-aureate light....</p> + +<p>“How connect that with which he amazed me to-day +with what he is amazing me now?” the guest from Russia +is reflecting, almost in fear, about his astonishing compatriot. +But the latter, is looking at him through his +black spectacles and is stubbornly reiterating:</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,—I have already been here.... And, in +general, I am a doomed man.... If you but knew how +dreadfully muddled my affairs are! Even more, it would +seem, than my soul and my thoughts.... Oh, well, there +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span>is a way out of everything! Just jerk back the trigger of +your revolver, having thrust its muzzle as far as possible +into your mouth,—and all these affairs, thoughts, and +emotions will fly into pieces to the devil and his dam!”</p> + +<p><i>1916.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="BRETHREN"> + BRETHREN + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="right"> + <i>Behold brethren, slaying one another!</i><br> + <i>I would discourse of grief.</i> +</p> + +<p class="right"> + <span class="smcap">Sutha Nippatha.</span> +</p> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> road out of Colombo, lying along the ocean, +runs through dense cocoanut groves. To the right, +within their sun-dappled shady depths, under the +high canopy of feathery broom-like tree-tops, are scattered +the Senegalese cabins, half-hidden by the pale green +laminæ of bananas, resembling gigantic ears of corn, so +small and low are they in comparison with the tropical +forest surrounding them. To the left, through the dark-ringed +trunks, tall and slender, fantastically bent in all +directions, one sees stretches of deep, silky sands, a gleam +of a golden, blazing mirror of smooth water, and, anchored +upon it, as though blending with the tree trunks, are the +coarse sails of primitive pirogues,—frail, cigar-shaped +hollowed-out small oaks. Upon the sand, in paradisaical +nudity, are sprawling the coffee-coloured bodies of black-haired +striplings. Many such bodies are also plashing, +with laughter and yells, in the warm transparent water +of the stony coast.... Of what need, one thinks, to these +people of the forests, these direct heirs of the Land of our +First Parents, as Ceylon is styled even now,—of what +need to them are cities, cents, rupees? Do not the forest, +ocean, sun give them everything? And yet, upon attaining +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span>the years of maturity, some of them take to trading, +others labour upon the rice and tea plantations, a third +lot—in the north of the island—dive for pearls together +with negroes, going down to the bottom of the ocean and +arising thence with bloodshot eyes; a fourth group replace +horses,—they carry Europeans over the towns +and their environs, over dark red footpaths, shaded by +enormous vaults of forest verdure over that very <i>kabouk</i> +out of which Adam was created. Horses bear but illy the +sultriness of Ceylon,—even Australian horses; every +wealthy resident who keeps a horse sends it away for the +summer to the mountains, into Candy, into Nurillia.</p> + +<p>Upon the rickshaw-man’s left arm, between his +shoulder and elbow, the Englishmen, the present lords of +the island, put a badge with a number. There are ordinary +numbers, and there are special ones. To one old +Senegalese rickshaw-man, living in a forest hut near +Colombo, had fallen a special number,—seven. “Wherefore,” +the Exalted One might have said,—“wherefore, +monks, did this old man desire to multiply his earthly +sorrows?” “Because,” the monks might have answered, +“because, oh Exalted One, he was moved by earthly love, +by that which, from the start of time, summons all creatures +into being,—therefore did this old man desire to increase +his earthly sorrows.” He had a wife, a son, and +many little children, dreading not that “he who hath +them, hath also the care of them.” He was black, very +thin and unsightly, resembling both a stripling and a +woman; his long hair, gathered in a knot at the nape of +his neck and anointed with cocoanut oil, had grown gray; +the skin over all his body—or, to put it better, over his +bones—had wrinkled; as he ran, sweat streamed down +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span>from his nose, chin, and the rag tied about his scanty +pelvis; his narrow chest drew breath with whistling and +gasping. But strengthening himself with the headiness +of the betel, working up and expectorating a bloody froth +that soiled his moustache and lips, he sped quickly; and +the white men rolling in his black lacquered cart through +the sun-scorched city, over the dark-red pavements, soft +from the sun and smelling of naphtha and the humus of +flowers, were satisfied.</p> + +<p>Moved by love, not for himself, but for his family, for +his son, did he desire happiness, that which was not destined +to be his, that which was not given to him. He +knew English but poorly; he could not make out at once +the names of the places where he was to run to—and +frequently ran at a venture. The rickshaw-man’s carriage +is very small; it has a top that can be thrown back, +its wheels are narrow and high, each shaft is no thicker +than an average cane. And lo! A big man, his eyes almost +all whites, all in white, with a white sun helmet, in +rough but expensive footgear, clambers into it, seats himself +snugly therein, crosses one leg over the other, and, +restrainedly commanding, deep in his throat, hoarsely +croaks his destination. Seizing his shafts, the old man +bends down to the ground and flies forward like an arrow, +scarce touching the ground with his light feet. The man +in the helmet, holding a stick in his hands covered with +tow-like hair, has gone into deep thought over his affairs, +staring vacantly,—when suddenly he rolls his eyes in +wrath: why, the fellow’s rushing in an altogether wrong +direction! To put it shortly, not a few sticks had fallen +upon his back, upon his black shoulder blades, always +hunched up in presentiment of a blow. But also not a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span>few extra cents had he snatched from Englishmen,—checking +himself at full speed at the entrance of some +hotel or office and dropping the shafts, he would so +wrinkle his face, so hurriedly throw out his thin arms, +his moist, monkey-like palms cupped, that it was impossible +not to give him something additional.</p> + +<p>One day he ran home at an altogether unaccustomed +hour in the very heat of noonday, when those lemon-coloured +birds which are called sun-birds flutter through +the forest like golden arrows; when so gaily and shrilly +scream the parrots, darting from the trees and flashing +like rainbows through the dappled boskage of the forests, +through their shade and gleaming light; when, within +the enclosures of ancient Buddhistic sanctuaries, roofed +with terra-cotta tiles, the plum-coloured blossoms of the +leafless Tree of Sacrifice, that resemble little tuberoses, +yield such a sweet and heavy odour; when thick-throated +chameleons play with such vivid primary colours as they +flash over smooth-trunked trees, as well as over trees +that are as ringed as an elephant’s trunk; when so many +huge, gorgeous butterflies soar and float without motion +in the sun; and when the hot, fawn-coloured ant-hills +swarm and spout, as though with agate grain. All +things in the forests chanted and praised Maru, the God +of Life and Death, the God of the “Thirst of Being”; all +creatures were pursuing one another, rejoicing with a +brief joy even as they destroyed one another; but the +old rickshaw-man, no longer athirst for anything but a +cessation of his sufferings, lay down in the stuffy murk +of his mud-hut, under its parched-up roof of leaves +arustle with little red snakes, and toward evening was +dead—from icy cramps and watery dysentery. His life +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span>was extinguished together with the sun, that went down +beyond the lilac smoothness of great watery expanses, +retreating toward the west, into the purple, ashes, and +gold of the most magnificent clouds in the universe. And +night came,—a night on which, in the forests near +Colombo, all that was left of the rickshaw-man was only +a little contorted corpse, that had lost its number, its +name, even as the river Kellani loses its appellation when +it reaches the ocean. The sun, upon sinking, changes +to a wind; but into what does he that has died +change? ... Night was rapidly extinguishing the roseate +and green colours of the fleeting twilight,—colours as +tender as those of some fairy tale; the flying foxes darted +noiselessly underneath the branches, seeking shelter for +the night; and the forests were filling up with a black, +warm darkness, were bursting into flame with myriads +of fire-flies, and were mysteriously, languishingly murmurous +with cicadas and with the flowers of which the +tiny tree frogs make their home. In the distant forest +idol-temple, before a little sacred lamp barely glimmering +upon a black altar for offerings that was drenched with +cocoanut oil and strewn with rice and withered flower +petals, upon his right side, with one hand laid meekly +under his cheek, reposed the Exalted One,—a giant of +sandal-wood, with a broad gilded face and elongated +slanting eyes of sapphires, with a smile of peaceful sadness +upon his thin lips. In the dark cabin, upon his +back, was lying the rickshaw-man, and the suffering of +death distorted his pitiful features,—for that the voice +of the Exalted One had not reached him when it had +summoned him to forsake earthly love; for that beyond +the grave a new life of sorrow awaited him, as a consequence +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span>of his previous unrighteous one. The buck-toothed +old woman, sitting at the threshold of the cabin, +at the fire under a cauldron, wept on this night, nourishing +her grief with the self-same unreasoning love and +pity. The Exalted One would have likened her emotions +to the copper ear-ring, resembling a little barrel, +which hung in her right ear,—the ear-ring was big and +heavy; it had so pulled down the slit in the lobe of her +ear that a considerable hole had formed. Her short +blouse of cotton stuff, put on right over the bare coffee-coloured +body, stood out sharply white in the darkness. +Near by, naked, imp-like children were playing, squealing, +pursuing one another. As for the son, a light-footed +youth,—he was standing in the semi-darkness beyond the +fire. He had that evening seen his bride,—a round-faced, +thirteen-year-old girl from a neighbouring settlement. +He was frightened and dumbfounded upon hearing of his +father’s death,—he had not thought that this would come +so soon. But, probably, he was too much aroused by another +love, which is stronger than the love men bear for +their fathers. “Forget not,” saith the Exalted One, +“forget not, O Youth, longing to enkindle life with life, +even as fire is enkindled with fire, that all the torments +of this universe, where everyone is either slayer or slain, +that all its sorrows and plaints, come from love.” But +love had already crept into the youth in its entirety, +even as a scorpion creeps into its lair. He stood and +gazed into the fire. As with all savages, his legs were +disproportionately long. But even Siva would have +envied the beauty of his torso, that was of the colour of +dark cinnamon. The fire made his blue-black hair +glisten,—it was as thick as horse hair, and stretched taut +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span>and gathered at the top of his head; made his eyes glow +from under their long lashes,—and their glow was like +the glow of coke near the mouth of a forge.</p> + +<p>On the next day the neighbours carried off the dead +little old man into the depths of the forest; laid him in +a pit, with his head to the west, toward the ocean; hurriedly, +but trying not to make noise, cast earth and leaves +over him; and hurried away to perform their cleansing +ablutions. The little old man was done with his running; +the brass badge was taken off the thin arm that had grown +gray and wrinkled,—and, admiring it, distending his +thin nostrils, the youth put it upon his own, that was +rounded and warm. At first he only followed the experienced +rickshaw-men, trying to catch the destinations +of their passengers, memorizing English words and the +names of the streets; then he began carrying passengers +independently, began earning money himself; he was preparing +for a family, for a love of his own,—the desire +for which is a desire for sons, just as the desire for sons +is a desire for property, and desire for property—a desire +for well-being. But one day, having come home, he came +upon other horrible tidings: his bride had vanished,—she +had gone to Slave Island, to purchase something, and +had not returned. The bride’s father, who knew Colombo +well, having frequently gone there, searched for her for +three days, and he must have found out something, because +he returned reassured. He sighed and cast down his +eyes, expressing his submission to fate; but he was a +great hypocrite, a sly old man, like all those who have +property, who trade in the city. He was corpulent, with +breasts like a woman’s; he had hoary hair, carefully +combed, and ornamented with an expensive comb of tortoise +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span>shell; he walked about bare-footed, but under a +sun-shade; he girt his hips with a piece of gaudy material, +of good quality; his blouse was of <i>piqué</i>. It was impossible +to get the truth out of him; furthermore, all +women, all maidens, are frail, even as all rivers are full +of turnings and windings; and the young rickshaw-man +understood this. After sitting at home for two days in +a daze, without touching food, only chewing betel, he +finally came to himself and again ran off into Colombo. +He seemed to have forgotten entirely about his bride. +He ran with the rickshaw, he covetously hoarded money,—and +it was impossible to understand which he was more +in love with: his running, or those circles of silver which +he gathered for it. One Russian seaman had had a +photograph taken of himself and the rickshaw-man, and +had presented him with one of these pictures. For a +long time after that the young rickshaw-man joyously +marvelled at his image: he was standing between his +shafts, his face turned toward the imaginary spectators, +and everyone could recognize him immediately,—even the +badge on his arm had come out. With all good fortune, +apparently even with happiness, he had laboured thus for +about half a year.</p> + +<p>And one morning he was sitting with other rickshaw-men +underneath a many-trunked banyan tree that stood +upon that lengthy street which extends from Slave Island +to Victoria Park. The hot sun had just appeared +from behind the trees, from the direction of Maradana. +But the banyan tree had grown high, and there was no +longer any shade about its roots, strewn over with parched +leaves. The little carriages grew hot from the heat, +their thin shafts lay upon the dark-red, heated earth, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span>that smelt both of naphtha and of freshly-ground coffee. +With this odour were blended the pungent sweet odours +of the surrounding, ever-blossoming gardens, the odours +of camphor, of musk, and of that which the rickshaw +men were eating,—and they were eating bananas,—small, +warm, tenderly roseate, in aureate skins; they were eating +those orange fruits, with a tang of turpentine, the +meat of which has the appearance of the flesh of children. +They were chattering as they sat on the ground, their +knees raised in sharp angles up to their chins, with their +arms on top of the knees, and with their feminine heads +on top of their arms. Suddenly, in the distance, near +the white enclosing walls of a bungalow, dappled by the +light and shade, appeared a man clad in white. He was +walking in the middle of the street with that determined +and firm step with which only Europeans walk. And, +jumping up as quick as lightning from the ground, the +entire flock of these naked, long-legged men dashed toward +him, racing to get ahead of one another. They +darted upon him from all sides, and he yelled threateningly, +swinging out with his cane. Timid and sensitive, +they checked themselves at full speed, gathering around +him. He glanced at them,—and number seven, with his +pitch-black, horse-like hair, appeared to him stronger +than the others. And so his choice fell upon number +seven.</p> + +<p>He was short and strong, in gold spectacles, with black +eyebrows grown together over the bridge of his nose, with +a short black moustache, with an olive complexion; the +sun of the tropics and liver trouble had already left their +sallow trace upon his face. His helmet was gray; his +eyes, in some strange way, as though they beheld nothing, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span>looked out of the coal-black darkness of his eyebrows +and lashes, from behind the shining lenses. He +sat down like one accustomed to rickshaws,—immediately +finding in the little carriage that spot which makes it the +easiest for the rickshaw-men to run, and glancing at +the little watch in a leathern socket strapped around +his wrist,—it was tattooed, and the hand was powerful +and stubby,—called out “York Street!” His expressionless +voice was firm and calm, but his eyes had a strange +look. And the rickshaw-man snatched up the shafts and +flew off at a considerably greater speed than was called +for, every moment clicking the bell that was fastened at +the end of the shaft, and shuffling in and out among +pedestrians, tilted <i>arba</i> carts, and other rickshaws that +were running back and forth.</p> + +<p>It was the end of March,—the most sultry period. +Not even three hours had passed since the rising of the +sun,—yet it already seemed as if noon were near, so +hot and bright was it everywhere, and so thronged in the +neighbourhood of the stores at the farther end of the +street. The earth, the gardens, all that tall, spreading +vegetation which was growing green and blossoming over +the bungalows, over their chalky roofs, and over the old +black stores,—all these had cloyed the air with warmth +and fragrance, whereas the rain-trees had curled up +tightly their little cup-like leaves. The rows of shops,—or, +rather, of sheds,—roofed with black tiles, their walls +hung about with enormous bunches of bananas, with +dried fish, with sun-cured shark-meat, were filled with +buyers and sellers,—both alike resembling dark-skinned +bath-attendants. The rickshaw-man, bending forward, +his long legs twinkling, was running rapidly, and as yet +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span>there was not a single drop of sweat upon his back, +glistening with cocoanut oil, nor upon his rounded +shoulders, between which the slender trunk of his girlish +neck gracefully supported his pitch-black head, upon +which the blazing sun beat down. At the very end of the +street, he came to a sudden stop. Turning his head just +the least trifle, he rapidly said something in his own +tongue. The Englishman, his passenger, caught sight of +the tips of his curved eyelashes, caught the word “betel,” +and raised his eyebrows. How? Such a young, strong +fellow was already wanting betel, after having run only +some two hundred steps? Without answering, he struck +the rickshaw-man over his shoulder blades with his cane. +But the latter, timorous like all Senegalese but at times +also insistent, only shrugged his shoulders and flew like an +arrow diagonally across the street, toward the shops.</p> + +<p>“Betel,” repeated he, turning wrathful eyes upon the +Englishman, and baring his teeth in a dog-like snarl. +But the Englishman had already forgotten about him. +And a minute later the rickshaw-man jumped out of a +shop, holding upon his narrow palm a leaf of the pepper +tree, smearing it over with lime and wrapping within it +a bit of the <i>areca</i> fruit, resembling a bit of flint. Kill +not, steal not, commit no fornication, lie not, nor become +intoxicated with aught, the Exalted One hath commanded. +Yes,—but what did the rickshaw-man know of Him? +Vaguely echoed within him that which had been vaguely +accepted by the countless hearts of his forefathers. In +the rainy season of the year he had gone with his father +to the sacred tabernacles; and there, among the women +and the beggars, he had listened to the priests reading +in an ancient tongue forgotten of all, and understanding +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span>nothing, only chiming in in the common joyous acclamation +whenever the name of the Exalted One was +uttered. More than once it had happened that his father +had prayed in his presence upon the threshold of the +idol temple; he would bow down before the recumbent +statue of wood, muttering its commandments, lifting his +joined palms to his forehead, and then would lay upon +the altar for offerings the smallest and most worn of +his hard-earned coins. But he muttered his prayers with +indifference,—for he was merely afraid of the pictures +upon the walls of the idol-temple, the depictions of the +torment of sinners; he bowed down before other gods as +well,—before horrible Hindu statues; in them, too, did +he believe, just as he believed in the power of demons, +serpents, stars, darkness....</p> + +<p>Having thrust the betel into his mouth, the rickshaw-man, +fitfully volatile in his emotions, turned amiably +smiling eyes upon the Englishman, seized the shafts, and, +starting off with a thrust of his left foot, began running +again. The sun was blinding; it gleamed on the gold +and the lenses of the spectacles whenever the Englishman +raised his head. The sun was scorching his hands +and knees; the earth was breathing heavily,—one could +even see that the air was aquiver above it, as above a +brazier,—but he sat immovably, without touching the +hood of the little carriage. Two roads led into the +city,—or, as the residents called it, into the Fort: one, +on the right, passed by the Malay pagoda, over the dam +between the lagoons; the other, to the left, led toward the +ocean. The Englishman wanted to go by the latter. +But the rickshaw-man turned around as he ran, showing +his bloodied lips, and pretended that he did not understand +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span>what was wanted from him. And the Englishman +again yielded,—he was absent-mindedly looking about +him. The green lagoon, sparkling, warm, filled with +turtles and rotting vegetation, bordered in the distance +by a cocoanut grove, lay on the right. Upon the dam +people were walking, riding, running to the clanging of +bells. Rickshaw-men in fezes, white jackets, and short +white pantaloons were now occasionally met with. The +Europeans sitting in the little carriages were pale after the +exhausting night; they held their white shoes high, putting +one knee over the other. A two-wheeled cart, with a +gray humped bullock harnessed to it, rolled by.... +Beneath its top, in the light, warm shadow, was sitting a +Parsee,—a yellow-faced old man who looked like an +eunuch, in a gown and a conical velvet skull cap, the latter +worked with gold. A giant Afghan, in wide trowsers +to his knees, in soft boots with upturned toes, in a white +<i>casaque</i> and an enormous pink turban, was immovably +standing, bent over the lagoon, gazing at the turtles, at +the warm water. Long covered <i>arba</i> carts stretched on +endlessly, dragged along by oxen. Under their narrow +arched tops of straw were piled up bales of goods, and, +at times, there would be a whole cluster of the brown +bodies of young labourers. Shrivelled old men, parched +by the heat, their feet reddened from the red dust, looking +like the mummies of old women, paced beside the +wheels. There were stone-cutters pacing along, and stalwart +black Tomilas.... “<i>The Pagoda</i>,” said the +Englishman, referring to a certain tea-house, when they +had come beneath those patriarchal trees that grow at the +entrance into the Fort, beneath the unencompassable +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span>canopies of their verdure, shot with the sun that penetrated +through it.</p> + +<p>They stopped near the entrance of an old Dutch +building, with arcades on its ground floor. The Englishman +glanced at his watch and went off to drink tea and +to smoke a cigar. As for the rickshaw-man, he made +half a turn about the broad, shady street, over the reddishly-lilac +pavement, strewn over with the yellow and +scarlet blossom of the <i>ketmias</i>, and dropping the shafts +at the roots of a tree, without checking his impetus, +sank down. He raised up his knees and put his elbows +upon them, avidly breathing in the steaming, sweetly +odorous warmth of noonday, and aimlessly letting his +eyes follow the Senegalese and Europeans passing by. +Taking a rag from some recess of his apron, he wiped +with it his lips, made bloody by the betel, wiped his face, +the convexities on his thin chest, and, folding it into a +bandage, tied it around his head,—this did not at all look +well, giving him the appearance of a sick man; but then, +many rickshaw-men do it. He sat, and, perhaps, he may +have been pondering.... “Our bodies, O Master, are +different,—but then, we all have but one heart,” Ananda +had said to the Exalted One, and, therefore, one can +imagine what must be the thoughts or emotions of a +youth who had grown up in the paradisaical forests near +Colombo and who had already tasted the most potent +of poisons,—love for woman; who had already plunged +into life,—life, fleetly flying after joys or fleeing from +sorrows. Mara had already wounded him,—but then, +Mara also healeth wounds. Mara snatches out of the +hands of man that which man had seized upon,—but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span>then, Mara also inflames a man to seize anew that which +had been taken away, or to seize something else that +is like that which had been taken away....</p> + +<p>Having had his tea, the Englishman wandered through +the street, entering shops, gazing at the show-cases displaying +precious stones, elephants and Buddhas made +of ebony wood, all sorts of bright coloured stuffs, the +golden skins of panthers, spotted with black,—while the +rickshaw-man, meditating of something, or, perhaps, +merely sentient, was exchanging bright glances with the +other rickshaw-men and followed the Englishman, dragging +his little carriage after him. Exactly at noon the +Englishman gave him a rupee to buy himself some food, +while he himself went into the office of a big European +steamship line. The rickshaw-man bought some cigarettes, +started smoking, inhaling deeply, watching his +cigarette, as women do,—and smoked five of them, one +after the other. In a delectable daze he sat in the fretted +shade, opposite the three-story building where the office +was, and suddenly, having raised his eyes, saw that his +passenger, and also five other Europeans, had appeared on +the balcony under the white awning. They were all +looking through binoculars at the harbour,—and now, +beyond the roofs of the wharf, appeared two tall, slender +masts, slightly inclined backward. The people on the +balcony started waving their handkerchiefs, while from +beyond the roofs, morosely, mightily and majestically, +a whistle began to roar, echoed all over the roadstead +and in the city,—the steamer from far-away Europe +that the passenger of rickshaw number seven had been +awaiting had arrived. With English punctuality did it +enter after twenty days’ sail to Colombo,—and that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span>which the rickshaw-man, still filled with hopes and desires, +did not at all expect—that dinner, so fatal for him, +to be held in the house near the lagoon, at the steamship +agent’s home,—was decided upon.</p> + +<p>But until dinner, until evening, there still remained +much time. And again this man in spectacles who saw +nothing came out into the street. He said good-bye to +the two men who had come out with him and who had +gone in the direction of the white statue of Victoria, toward +the covered wharf; and again the rickshaw-man +started ambling through the street,—this time toward +the hotel, where at this time many tourists and rich residents +were eating and drinking in a semi-dark hall, whose +sultry stuffiness was stirred and mixed with the odours +of the food by blades turning near the ceiling. And +again, like a dog, the rickshaw-man squatted down +upon the pavement, upon the petals of the <i>ketmias</i>. The +fretted shade of trees whose light-green tips were interlaced +spread over the street, and in this shade went past +him the womanish Senegalese, thrusting upon the Europeans +coloured postal cards, tortoise-shell combs, precious +stones,—one native was even dragging after him +by a cord a little beast in a coat of long quills, trying +to sell it,—and these half-savages, these rickshaw-men, +kept up their ceaseless racing through this rich European +thoroughfare.... In the distance, in the centre of an +open square, a woman of heroic size, in marble,—proud, +double-chinned, in crown and royal mantle, seated on her +throne upon a high pedestal of marble,—was blazing in +her whiteness. And those who had just arrived from +Europe were trooping from that direction. Black and +dove-coloured servants jumped out upon the entrance to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span>the hotel; bowing, they snatched the canes and small baggage +from the hands of the arrivals, who were also met +by the bows, restrained and graceful, of a man resplendent +with the parting of his pomatumed hair, with his +eyes, his teeth, his cuffs, his starched linen, his <i>piqué</i> +dinner jacket, his <i>piqué</i> trousers, and his white footgear. +“Men are forever going to feasts, to excursions, to diversions,” +saith the Exalted One, Who had at one time +visited this paradisaical corner of the first men who had +come to know desire. “The sight, sounds, taste, and +odours of things intoxicate them,” He had said; “desire +entwines them, even as a creeping plant, green, beautiful, +and death-bearing, entwines the tree Shala.” Traces of +fatigue, of exhaustion from heat, from the rocking of the +boat at sea and from maladies, were upon the ashen faces +of those going to the hotel. They all had the appearance +of being half-dead, they spoke without moving their lips; +but they all walked on, looking about them, and one +after the other disappeared within the darkness of the +vestibule, in order to go to their rooms, to wash up and +refresh themselves. And then, having intoxicated themselves +with food, drink, cigars and coffee, until their +faces flushed crimson, they would roll away in rickshaws +to the shore of the ocean, into the Cinnamon Gardens, to +the Hindu temples and the Buddhistic sanctuaries. +Everyone of them—everyone!—had within his soul that +which compels a man to live and to desire the sweet +deception of life! And was not this deception doubly +sweet to the rickshaw-man, born in the land of the first +people? Ladies and gentlemen walked to and fro before +him,—elderly, ugly, just as buck-toothed as his +black mother, sitting in the distant forest hut; but at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span>times young women also went past him,—pleasant to look +upon, in white raiment, in small helmets wound with light +veils, and, arousing desire within him, they looked intently +upon his splendid, upraised eyelashes, upon the rag +around his pitch-black head, and upon his blood stained +mouth. But then, was she who had disappeared in the +city inferior to them? The warmth of the tropical sun +had made her grow. She seemed darker on account of +her short blouse, white, with little blue flowers, and her +skirt, just as short and of the same material, both put +directly upon her naked body,—just a trifle full, but +strong and small. She had a little rounded head, a convex +little forehead, round shining eyes in which childish +timidity was already being commingled with a joyous +curiosity about life, with a hidden muliebrity, both tender +and passionate; there was a coral necklace upon her +rounded neck; her little hands and feet were braceletted +with silver.... Jumping up from his place, the rickshaw-man +ran into one of the nearest by-streets, where, +in an old, one-storied house under brick tiles, with thick +wooden pillars, there was a bar for the lower classes. +There he put twenty-five cents on the bar, and for that +price gulped down a whole glass of whiskey. Having +mixed this fire with the betel, he had assured himself +of a beatific exaltation almost until the very evening, until +the time when the forests near Colombo, filling with +black, sultry darkness, would begin to resound mysteriously +with murmurings and moanings of countless +cicadas and tree toads, and the thickets of bamboo would +be aquiver with myriads of fiery sparks.</p> + +<p>The Englishman, too, was intoxicated, as he walked +out of the hotel with a cigar,—his eyes were drowsy, his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span>face, heightened in colour, seemed to have become fuller. +Glancing at his watch from time to time and thinking of +something, apparently not knowing how to kill time, +he stood a while near the hotel in indecision. Then he +ordered himself carried first to the post office, where he +dropped three postal cards into the box, and from the +post office to Gordon’s Garden, which he did not even enter,—he +simply glanced in at the gates at the monument +and the pathways; and from the garden he went at random: +to Black Town, to the market place in Black Town, +to the Kellani River.... And then he was whirled on +and on, hither and thither, by the intoxicated rickshaw-man, +who was bathed in sweat from head to foot, aroused +both by whiskey and by betel, and by the hope of receiving +a whole heap of pennies, and by certain other dreams +that stir the body and soul and that never forsake a man. +At the most oppressive hour of the afternoon heat and +glare, when, after having sat on a bench under a tree +for two minutes one leaves upon it a dark ring of perspiration, +he, to please the Englishman, who did not +know what to do until dinner, ran all over Black Town,—ancient, +populous, redolent of spicy odours; and many +naked coloured bodies and many bright stuffs girt about +hips did the sleepy Englishman see; many Parsees, Hindus, +yellow faced Malayans; malodorous Chinese shops, +brick-tiled and bamboo-covered roofs, temples, minarets +and idol-temples; sailors from Europe on shore leave, as +well as Buddhistic monks,—shaven, thin, with insane eyes, +clad in canary-coloured toga-like garments, with the right +shoulder bared, and carrying fans made out of the foliage +of the sacred palm. Rapidly, rapidly, did the rickshaw-man +and his passenger dash through this teeming +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span>density and dirt of the ancient East, as though they +were escaping from some one. Up to the very river Kellani +did they run,—the narrow, turbid, and deep Kellani, +made too warm by the sun, half-covered with impenetrable +green overgrowths that bent low from its banks; +the river beloved of crocodiles, who retreat farther and +farther into the depths of the virgin forests before the +barges with straw-thatched arched covers; barges laden +with bales of tea, with rice, cinnamon, precious stones +still in the rough,—barges floating with especial deliberation +in the golden deep glitter of the sun before evening.... +Then the Englishman gave orders to return to +the Fort, by now deserted, with all its offices, agencies +and banks closed; he was shaved in a barber shop and +grew unpleasantly younger; he bought cigars, dropped +into an apothecary’s.... The rickshaw-man, grown +thinner, all bathed in sweat, was by now gazing upon him +inimically, with the eyes of a dog that feels attacks +of madness coming on.... At six o’clock, having run +past the lighthouse at the end of Queen’s Street, having +run through the quiet and clean military streets, he ran +out upon the shore of the ocean, that struck his eyes with +its freedom, with its glaucously aureate sheen from the +low-lying sun, and started running over Gull Face Place +toward Slave Island.</p> + +<p>“From longing is born the desire for joy,” the Exalted +One hath said, “from happiness is born sorrow; out of +joy and sorrow doth fear arise.” And now within the +eyes of the rickshaw-man had already appeared sorrow, +and fear, and malice. He had grown daft from running, +had more than once, with sad weariness, turned around +toward his tormentor; he breathed heavily, putting behind +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span>him with his long legs the broad, well-laid road of +the Place. At the setting of the sun this Place is vast, +empty and melancholy. Having done with business, the +Englishmen stroll here before dinner, are driven in costly +horse equipages, or drive their wives, mistresses, and children; +play tennis and football; and admire the ocean and +the magnificent beauty of the tropical sunset,—a sunset +not like that of their own land. The rickshaw-man ran +on, looking wildly upon these sinewy, red-haired men in +short white trunks and gay sweaters, who careered over the +Place of their own free will, racing after one another with +all their might, jumping up after the soaring balls and +kicking them resoundingly with the rough tips of their +heavy shoes. The sun was sinking; the sky above the +setting sun was growing green; a light, downy cloud, that +had been lurking in the skyey depths, became entirely +roseate.... “Carlton Hotel!” in a lifeless voice said the +Englishman, who had all the time been sadly and drowsily +gazing toward the west, upon the ocean, upon its softly +murmurous surge, scattering into heliotrope foam upon +the bowlders on shore.... The rickshaw-man, as he +ran, would bare his teeth; by now he wanted to gnaw +this man who had driven him so hard,—but it was impossible +not to run: the Englishman, without changing +the expression of his drowsily sad face, more and more +often prodded the rickshaw-man with the tip of his cane. +And besides, the rickshaw’s beatific exaltation had already +passed into something else,—into a tense submissiveness, +into a coma of ceaseless running. All the hotels +in the Fort were filled up, and the Englishman lived in a +common one beyond Slave Island,—and now the rickshaw-man +once more ran past the banyan tree, under which +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span>he had sat down this very morning in his greed of earning +money from these merciless and enigmatic white men, +in his obstinate hope of happiness. Once more the +familiar gardens, one after another; the stone enclosures; +the Dutch-tile roofs of bungalows,—low, squat, by comparison +with the trees spreading over them.... Having +run into the yard of one such bungalow, the rickshaw-man +rested for half an hour near the terrace, while the Englishman +was changing his clothes for dinner. His heart was +pounding like a poisoned man’s, his lips had blanched, +the features of his dark brown face had grown sharper, +his splendid eyes had grown still blacker and wider, the +rag upon his head had become so saturated that he +snatched it off and flung it far from him. The odour of +his heated body had become unpleasant,—it was now the +odour of warm tea mixed with cocoanut oil, and some +other, spirituous, ingredient, such as would be produced +by taking and rubbing a cluster of ants in one’s hands.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the sun had set. An elderly maiden was +half-lying under the awning of the terrace in a rocker, +reading a prayer-book by the remaining daylight. Having +caught sight of her from the street, there noiselessly +entered the yard a mute Hindu of Madura,—a tall, dark +old man, as thin as a skeleton, with gray hair curling +upon his chest and abdomen, in a beggar’s turban, in a +long apron of stuff that had at one time been red and +crossed with yellow stripes. Upon his arm the old man +carried a closed basket of palm-wattle. Walking up to +the terrace, he salaamed subserviently, putting his hand +to his forehead, and sat down upon the ground, lifting up +the cover of the basket. Without looking at him, the +woman reclining in the rocker waved him away with her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span>hand. But he was already taking a bamboo flute out +of his belt. And at this point the rickshaw-man jumped +to his feet, and in an inexplicable fury yelled loudly at +him. The old man, too, jumped up, slammed shut the +basket, and, turning about, ran toward the gates. But, +for a long while, the eyes of the rickshaw-man were +round,—altogether as with that fearful creature whom he +pictured to himself,—slowly, like a tightly wound cord, +crawling out of the basket and hissingly puffing out its +throat, that glimmered with a blue sheen.</p> + +<p>The darkness was falling rapidly,—it was already dark +when the Englishman, freshly laved, came out upon the +terrace in his white dinner jacket, and the rickshaw-man +submissively darted toward the shafts. The Englishman +called out briskly the name of the place he was to run to,—and +who knows if his order found no eerie echo in the +heart of the rickshaw-man? It was already night, and an +exceptionally hot one,—as always before the oncoming of +the rainy season; a night still more fragrant than the day. +Still denser had grown the warm and cloying aroma of +musk, blended with the odour of the warm earth, pinguid +with the humus of flowers. It was so dark in the gardens +through which the rickshaw-man was running that only +by his heavy breathing and by the scanty light of the +little lantern upon the shaft, could one gather that he +was bearing down upon one. Then, beneath the black +canopies of the trees, came the faint glimmering of the +rotting lagoon; and next,—red lights lengthily reflected +in it. The big two-storied house in which the agent lived +shone through and through in this tropical blackness +with the openings of its windows. It was dark in the +compound. A large number of rickshaw-men, their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span>bodies blending into the darkness and their loin cloths +showing dimly white, had come into this compound with +those who had been invited. And the large balcony, open +toward the lagoon, was aglow with candles in glass +chimneys, clustered about with countless thrips; it was +dazzling with the cover of the long table, set with china, +bottles, and pails of ice, and was white with the dinner +jackets of the people sitting at it, who ate, drank, and +without a moment’s silence, even though restrainedly, +spoke deep down in their throats, as bare-footed corpulent +servants, that looked like wet-nurses, waited upon +them, their bare soles rustling. And an enormous punkah +of Chinese matting, attached by one edge to the ceiling, +swayed and swayed over their heads, brought into motion +by Malayans sitting behind a partition that did not +reach to the ceiling, and kept pouring a constant current +of air upon the diners, upon their cold and clammy foreheads. +Rickshaw-man number seven dashed up to the +balcony. Those seated at the table greeted the newly arrived +guest with glad murmuring. The guest jumped out +of the little carriage and ran up into the balcony. As +for the rickshaw-man, he started off at a gallop to go +round the house, in order to get again to the gates, into +the compound, to the other rickshaws. And, as he was +turning the corner of the house, he suddenly recoiled, +as though he had been struck with a stick: standing near +an open and illuminated window on the second story,—in +a small Japanese kimona of red silk, in a triple necklace +of rubies, in broad bracelets of gold upon her round +arms,—looking upon him with round shining eyes was +his bride: that very girl-woman with whom he had +agreed, already a half-year back, to exchange balls of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span>rice! She could not see him below, in the darkness. +But he had recognized her instantly,—and, having staggered +back, stood stock still on the spot.</p> + +<p>He did not fall down, his heart did not burst asunder,—it +was too young and strong. Having stood for a minute +or so, he sat down on the ground, under an age-old fig-tree, +whose entire top, like a tree of paradise, burned and +flickered with the dust of fiery-green sparks. For a long +time did he gaze upon the dark round little head, upon +the red silk that loosely embraced the little body, and +upon the arms, raised as she patted her hairdress, of her +who stood framed in the window. He squatted on his +heels until she had turned about and had gone into the +recesses of the room. And when she had disappeared he +instantly jumped to his feet, caught the shafts that had +been lying on the ground, and flew like a bird through +the yard and out of the gates; again did he start running, +on and on,—this time knowing unerringly whither he was +running, and wherefore, and now himself directing his +suddenly liberated will.</p> + +<p>“Awake, awake!” clamoured within him the thousands +of soundless voices of his mournful ancestors, mouldered +for hundreds of generations in this paradisaical earth. +“Shake off thee the seductions of Mara, the dream of +this brief life! Is sleep for thee,—thou who hast been +empoisoned with venom, pierced through with an arrow! +An hundredfold doth he suffer who hath that which is +an hundredfold dear; all sorrows, all complaints, come +from love, from the attachments of the heart,—therefore, +slay thou them! Not for long shalt thou be in +the tranquillity of rest; anew and anew, in a thousand +incarnations, shalt thou be put forth by this thy land of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span>Eden, the shelter of the first men who had come to know +desire. But still this brief rest shall come to thee, thou +that hast too early run forth upon the path of life, +passionately setting out after happiness, and that hast +been wounded by the sharpest of all arrows,—by the +yearning for love and for new inceptions in this ancient +universe, where from time out of mind the conqueror +stands with a heavy sole upon the throat of the conquered!”</p> + +<p>The lights of the open air stalls of Slave Island appeared +under the canopies of the trees whose tops were +interlaced. The rickshaw-man hungrily ate in one of +these stalls a small bowl of rice over-spiced with pepper, +and then darted on. He knew where the old man from +Madura lived, who had an hour ago entered the yard +of the hotel: he dwelt with his nephew, at his large +fruit store, in a low house with wooden columns. The +nephew, in a dirty European suit of duck, with an enormous +mane of black twining wool upon his head, was +dragging in the baskets of fruits into the interior of the +store, his eyes puckering from the smoke of a cigarette +that had stuck to his lower lip. He paid no attention to +the insane appearance of the perspiring, heated rickshaw-man. +And the rickshaw-man silently hopped up under +the shelter of the awning, among the pillars, went to the +left, and with his foot pushed a small door behind which +he hoped to find the old mute. In his perspiring hand he +was clutching a treasured gold-piece, which, while he was +still running, he had taken out of a leather pouch that +hung at his belt, beneath his apron. And the gold-piece +speedily did its work. When the rickshaw-man jumped +out again, he bore a large cigar box, tied with a cord. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span>He had paid a great price for it, but then, it was not +empty: that which it contained was struggling, writhing, +knocking against the lid with its tensed coils, swishingly.</p> + +<p>Why did he take the little carriage along with him? +For take it along he did,—and at an even, powerful pace +flew for the shore of the ocean, toward Gull Face Place. +The place was empty; darkly did it extend into the distance +under the light of the stars. Beyond it were +scattered the small and infrequent lights of the Fort, +and against the sky was slowly turning the watch-tower +of the lighthouse, with its reflectors, throwing fumid +stripes of white light in the direction of the roadstead +only. The rickshaw-man felt a faint cool breeze +blowing from the ocean, whose drowsy murmur was +barely audible. Having reached at a run the shore, the +middle of the road, the rickshaw-man for the last time +threw down the slender shafts, into which at such an +early age, but not for long, life had harnessed him, and +sat down,—this time not upon the ground, but on a +bench; sat down without fear, as though he were a white +resident.</p> + +<p>In giving a whole pound to the Hindu, he had demanded +the smallest and the strongest, the most death-bearing +one. And it was,—besides having a faery beauty, +being all in black rings, with green edgings, with a dark +blue rounded head, with an emerald stripe back of its +head, and with a funereal tail,—it was, despite its small +size, unusually powerful and malignant; but now, after it +had been coiled up in a smelly wooden box, it was +especially so. It coiled convulsively, like a steel spring; +it writhed, rustled, and knocked against the lid of the +box. And he rapidly untied, unwound the cord.... +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span>However, who knows just how he did it? Were his hands +steady, or did they tremble? Was he rapid, resolute, or +no? And did he waver long after untying the cord? +Did he gaze for long at the murmurous dark ocean, upon +the faint starlight, upon the Southern Cross, the Crow, +upon Canopus? Did he bare his teeth in a canine snarl +in the direction of the residential quarter, in the direction +of the rich hotel with its entrance shining in the distance? +Most probably, he had at once unhesitatingly opened the +box, and had laid his left hand firmly upon those +springy coils, icy as a dead body, that were writhing in +the box; he was bitten right in the palm.</p> + +<p>And that bite is intolerably searing,—it is like the shock +of an electric current, and transpierces a man’s entire +body with untold pain, with such torture that after feeling +it even monkeys cry out piteously and burst into +sobs,—childish, passionate, despairingly-imploring. The +rickshaw-man, most probably, did neither cry out nor +burst into sobs; full well did he know what he had set +out to do. But there is no doubt that, having felt this +fiery shock, he turned a pin-wheel on the bench, and that +the box flew aside. And then, instantly, a bottomless +darkness spread out beneath him, and all things darted off +somewhere upward, obliquely: the ocean, and the stars, +and the lights of the hotel. The surging of the ocean +went to his head,—and ceased abruptly: a dead faint +always occurs after such a shock. But after such a faint +a man always comes quickly to himself,—seemingly only +to be nauseated, until blood comes, and to be again +plunged into non-being. There are several of these +death-swoons, and each one of them, breaking a man, +making him gasp, tears away human life, in parts; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span>thought, memory, vision, hearing, pain, grief, joy, hatred,—and +that ultimate, all-embracing thing which is called +love, the yearning to encompass within one’s heart all the +universe, seen and unseen, and to bestow it anew upon +some other.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Some ten days later, on a dark, sultry dusk before a +thunder-storm, two pair of oarsmen were racing in a +small boat through the harbour of Colombo, toward a +great Russian steamship that was about to sail for Suez. +The passenger whom rickshaw-man number seven had +once carried was half-reclining in the boat. The steamer +was already booming with the rattling of the rising +anchor chain, when, getting near the enormous iron wall +of the ship’s side, he ran up the long trap-ladder to the +deck. The captain at first flatly refused to take him on +board: the steamer carried freight only, he declared; the +agent had already gone away,—the thing was impossible. +“But I beg you,—very, very much!” retorted the Englishman. +The captain looked at him with wonder; he was +apparently strong, energetic, but there was the tint of an +unwholesome tan upon his face, while the eyes behind the +glistening spectacles were unmoving, seeming to see +nothing, and perturbed. “Wait until the day after to-morrow,” +said the captain; “there will be a German +mail-packet then.” “Yes, but to spend two more +nights at Colombo would be very hard for me,” answered +the Englishman. “This climate exhausts me,—my +nerves trouble me. Besides that, the German packet, +as is always the case, will be packed to overflowing, +whereas I desire to be alone. I am done up by these +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span>Ceylon nights, by insomnia, and by all that which a +nervous man experiences before thunder-storms at dusk. +But just glance at this darkness, at these clouds that have +obscured the horizon everywhere: the night will again be +a horrible one, the rain season has, properly speaking, +already set in....” And, with a shrug of his shoulders, +upon reflection, the captain gave in. And a minute later +the Senegalese, thin as eels, were already dragging up the +trap-ladder a trunk covered with shining black leather, +all gay with vari-coloured labels and marked with red +initials.</p> + +<p>The surgeon’s vacant cabin, which was put at the disposal +of the Englishman, was very small and stuffy; +but the Englishman found it splendid. Having hurriedly +disposed his things about it, he passed through the dining +cabin up to the deck. Everything was rapidly sinking +in the darkness. The ship had already weighed anchor +and was heading for the open sea. To the right, other +ships, with lights on their masts, seemed to be sailing +toward them,—these were the lights of the Fort. To the +left, under the high taffrail, the shifting level expanse of +the dark water rushed toward the low shore, toward the +mounds of coal, and the dark density of the groves of +slender trunked palms that were beyond the coal +mounds. The water still bounded the darkness and the +mournfulness of the clouds, and its shifting rapidity made +one’s head reel. Constantly veering, constantly increasing, +a humid, nauseatingly-fragrant wind was blowing +from somewhere. The taciturn clouds suddenly burst +into such an abysmal pale-blue light, that, lit up by it, in +the very depth of the forest, the trunks of the palms and +bananas, and the Senegalese huts underneath them, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span>flashed upon the vision. The Englishman blinked in affright; +he looked over his shoulder upon the pallid jetty +with the little red light at the end of it, by now seemingly +sailing upon his left; he looked at the leaden-hued ocean +in the distance, beyond the jetty,—and quickly started +back for his cabin.</p> + +<p>The old steward, a man irritated with fatigue, needlessly +suspicious and observant, peeped in several times +behind the curtain of the Englishman’s cabin before dinner. +The Englishman was sitting on a folding canvas +chair, holding a thick leather-bound note-book on his +knees. He was writing in it with a gold-tipped pen, and +his expression, whenever he raised his face, his spectacles +flashing, was dull, and, at the same time, wondering. +Then, having put his pen away, he went off into a brown +study, as though he were listening to the surging and +swishing of the waves, ponderously rushing by on the +other side of the cabin wall. The steward passed by, +swinging a clamorous little bell. The Englishman got up +and stripped himself naked. Having sponged himself off +with water and eau-de-cologne from head to foot, he +shaved, clipped evenly his short, bushy moustache, +painstakingly smoothed down with military brushes his +straight black hair, parting it at a slant, put on fresh linen +and his dinner jacket, and went to dinner with his habitual +firm, soldierly bearing.</p> + +<p>The ship’s personnel, who had long since been seated at +table and had been swearing at him for his lateness, met +him with exaggerated politeness, showing off before one +another with their knowledge of English. He responded +with a restrained, but not a lesser, politeness, and hastened +to add that he liked the Russian cuisine very much, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span>that he had been in Russia, in Siberia.... That, in general, +he had travelled a great deal, and had always borne +up splendidly on his travels, which, however, could not +be said of his last stay in India, in Java and Ceylon; +here his liver was affected, his nerves were upset,—he had +even come to eccentricities: such, for example, as that +which he had shown an hour ago when he had so suddenly +appeared on the steamer.... At coffee he regaled +the ship’s men with cognac and <i>liqueurs</i>; he fetched a box +of thick Egyptian cigarettes and put it on the table, open, +for common use. The captain, a man still young, with +clever and steady eyes, who endeavoured to be a European +in all things, began a conversation about the colonial +problems of Europe, about the Japanese, about the future +of the Far East. Listening attentively, the Englishman +objected or agreed. He spoke well, and not at all with +simplicity, but as though he were reading aloud from a +well-written article. And at times he would suddenly +grow quiet, still more attentively trying to catch the swish +of the waves beyond the open door. The thunderstorm +had been left behind. Long since the chain of Colombo’s +lights, that for a long while had been playing like diamonds, +had sunk into black velvet. Now the steamer +was in infinite darkness, in the void of ocean and of night. +The dining cabin was situated on deck, under the captain’s +bridge, and the darkness was etched in an intense +black within the open doors and windows: it seemed to +be standing and gazing in into the brightly lit dining +room. A humid breeze blew out of this darkness,—the +humid, free breath of a something free since the start of +time,—and its freshness, reaching those seated at table, +made them feel the odour of the tobacco smoke, of the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span>hot coffee, and of the liqueurs. But at times the electric +light would suddenly fail,—the doors and the +windows then became gleaming pale blue quadrangles; +the blue abyss of abysses, noiseless and unutterably +expansive, spread out around the steamer; the running +swell of the watery spaces gleamed; the horizons were +flooded with a blackness as of coal,—and thence, like the +grievous murmur of the Creator Himself, still plunged +in primordial chaos, came to their ears the roll of thunder,—muffled, +sombre and triumphant, shaking all things to +their foundation. And at such times the Englishman +seemed to be frozen on the spot for a moment.</p> + +<p>“This is really frightful!” said he in his lifeless but +steady voice after a flash especially blinding. And, +getting up from his place, he walked up to the door that +gaped into the darkness. “Very frightful,” said he, as +though he were talking to himself. “And the most +frightful thing of all is that we do not think, do not feel, +and cannot, have forgotten how to feel the full frightfulness +of this.”</p> + +<p>“What, precisely?” asked the captain.</p> + +<p>“Why, just this for example,” answered the Englishman, +“that under us and around us is that bottomless +depth, that shifting trough of the sea of which the Bible +speaks with such awesomeness.... Oh,” said he sternly, +looking intently into the darkness, “both far and near, +everywhere, the furrows of foam flare up, flaming with +green, and the darkness surrounding this foam is lilac-black, +the colour of a raven’s wing.... Is it a very +eerie thing to be a captain?” he asked gravely.</p> + +<p>“Why no, not at all,” answered the captain with assumed +nonchalance. “It’s a tiresome business, and responsible, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span>but, in reality not very complicated.... It is +all a matter of habit....”</p> + +<p>“Better say,—of our callousness,” said the Englishman. +“To be standing there, up on your bridge, at +whose sides these two great eyes,—the green and the red,—look +out, blurred, through their thick glass, and to be +sailing somewhere into the darkness of night and water, +extending for thousands of miles around,—it is madness! +But, however, it is no better,” he added, again glancing +out of the door, “it is no better, on the other hand, to be +lying below in a cabin, beyond whose exceedingly thin +wall, near your very head, beats and rolls this bottomless +deep.... Yes, yes,—our reason is just as feeble as the +reason of a mole; or, rather, still more feeble, for in the +case of a mole, of an animal, of a savage, instinct, at +least, has been preserved; whereas with us, with Europeans, +it has degenerated, is degenerating!”</p> + +<p>“However, moles do not navigate over the entire terrestrial +globe,” answered the captain smiling. “Moles do +not enjoy the benefits of steam, of electricity, of wireless +telegraphy. Do you wish to hear me speak with Aden +right now? And yet it is a ten days’ sail from here.”</p> + +<p>“And that, too, is frightful,” said the Englishman, and +cast a stern glance through his spectacles at one of the +engineers who had started laughing. “Yes, that too is +very frightful. For we, in reality, do not fear anything. +We do not fear even death properly: neither life, nor +sacred mysteries, nor the depths that surround us, nor +death,—neither our death nor that of others! I am a +colonel of the British Army, a participant of the Boer +War; I, commanding cannons to be fired, used to kill +men in hundreds; and here I am, not only neither suffering +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>nor going out of my mind because I am a murderer, +but never even thinking of these hundreds.”</p> + +<p>“What about the beasts, and the savages,—do they +think of such things?” asked the captain.</p> + +<p>“The savages believe that things have to be so, whereas +we don’t,” said the Englishman, and became silent; he +started pacing the dining room, trying to step as firmly +as he could in his dancing shoes.</p> + +<p>The flashes of the distant thunder storm, gleaming +roseately over the stars, were by now decreasing. The +wind blowing through the windows and doors was +stronger and cooler, the impenetrable darkness beyond the +door surged more loudly. A large sea-shell that served as +an ash-tray was sliding upon the table. Under one’s feet, +growing unpleasantly weaker, one felt something gathering +force below, lifting one up, then falling over on one +side, spreading out,—and the floor fell deeper and deeper +from under one’s feet. The ship’s men, having finished +their coffee and smoked their fill, sat in silence for several +minutes more, casting glances at their queer passenger; +then, wishing him good-night, they began picking up +their caps. The captain alone stayed on,—he was smoking +and following the Englishman with his eyes. The +Englishman, with a cigar, was walking, swayingly, from +door to door; his dark complexion, his spectacles, and +his seriousness combined with absent-mindedness, irritated +the old steward, who was clearing the table.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” said the Englishman, “there is only one +thing frightful to us,—that we have forgotten how to +feel fear! There is no God, no religion in Europe, long +since; we, with all our business activity and greed, are as +cold as ice both toward life and toward death. Even if +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span>we do fear death, it is with our reason or only with the +remnants of an animal instinct. At times we even try to +inspire ourself with that dread, to exaggerate it,—and +still we do not respond, do not feel in due measure those +incomprehensible and horrible things of which the life +of man is full.... Just as I, even I, do not now feel that +which I myself have called fearful,” said he, pointing +toward the open door, beyond which the impenetrable +darkness murmured, by now raising high the prow, and +tumbling the ship, all of whose partitions were creaking, +from one side to the other.</p> + +<p>“It is Ceylon that has affected you so,” said the captain +mechanically.</p> + +<p>“Oh, beyond a doubt, beyond a doubt!” agreed the +Englishman. “We all,—commercial men, mechanical +engineers, military men, politicians, colonizers,—we all, +fleeing from our own dullness and vanity, wander all the +world over; for you will agree that the number of travelling +Europeans is increasing with a magic rapidity; that +the entire terrestrial globe is plastered over with motley +placards and time-tables. And we try with all our might +to be enraptured, now with the mountains and lakes of +Switzerland, now with the pauperism of Italy,—her +pictures and the broken-up fragments of her statues and +columns. Or we wander over the slippery stones which +have survived from some amphitheatres in Sicily, or +we gaze with simulated delight upon the yellow heaps of +rubble at the Acropolis in Greece; or attend, as though it +were some show-booth spectacle at a fair, the distribution +of the sacred fire in Jerusalem. We pay sums unheard +of in order to undergo tortures from guides and fleas in +the tombs and clay idol-temples of Egypt. We sail to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span>India, to China, to Japan,—and it is only here, upon the +soil of the most ancient of mankind, in this Eden which +we have forfeited, which we style our colonies and which +we covetously despoil, in the midst of squalor, bubonic +plague, cholera, fevers, and coloured races whom we have +turned into cattle,—only here do we feel, in some slight +measure, life, death, godhood. Here, after having remained +indifferent toward all these Osirises, Zeuses, Appolons, +toward Christ, toward Mahomet, have I more +than once felt that I might perhaps have bowed only before +them,—these fearful Gods of this cradle of mankind: +before the hundred-armed Brahma; before Siva; +before the Devil; before Buddha, whose word verily rang +forth like the utterance of Methuselah himself, driving +nails into the coffin-lid of the universe.... Yes, thanks +only to the East, and to the diseases contracted in the +East; thanks to the fact that in Africa I slaughtered men +by the hundreds; that in India, which is being despoiled +by England, and, therefore, in part by me, I have seen +thousands dying from hunger; that I had bought little +girls in Japan to be my wives for a month; that in China +I had beaten defenseless, simian old men over their heads +with a stick; that in Java and Ceylon I had driven +rickshaw-men until I heard the death rattle in their +throats; that I had, in my time, contracted a most cruel +fever in Anaradhapore, and liver trouble on the shore of +Malabar,—only thanks to all this do I still feel +and think, after a fashion. Those lands, those countless +peoples, which still either live a life of infantile immediacy, +sentient with all their beings of existence, and death, +and the divine majesty of the universe; or those lands and +peoples which have already traversed a long and arduous +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span>path (historical, religious and philosophical), and who +have grown wearied on this path,—such lands and peoples +we, the men of the new age of iron, aspire to enslave, to +divide amongst us, and this we style our colonial problems. +And when this division shall come to an end, +then on this world will again be enthroned the might of +some new Tyre or Sidon, a new Rome, English or German. +There will be repeated, inevitably repeated, also +that which had been prophesied by Judæan prophets to +Sidon, that, according to the word of the Bible, had +grown to deem itself God; that which had been prophesied +to Rome by the Apocalypse; and to India, to the +Aryan tribes that had enslaved it, by Buddha, who has +said, ‘O ye princes, ye men in power, rich in treasures, +who have arrayed your covetousness against one another, +insatiably pandering to your lusts! ...’ Buddha understood +the significance of the life of Individuality in this +‘world of having been,’ in this universe, whose meaning +we cannot attain to, and he was horrified with a sacred +horror. Whereas we exalt our Individuality above the +heavens; we want to centre all the world within it, no +matter what may be said of the coming universal brotherhood +and equality. And so it is only on the ocean, under +stars new and foreign to us, in the midst of the majesty +of tropical thunder storms; or in India, in Ceylon, where +history is so immeasurable, where at times one glimpses +life veritably primitive, and where on dark, sultry nights, +in the fevered gloom, one feels man melting, dissolving +in this blackness, in these sounds, scents, in this fearful +All-Oneness,—only there do we in a slight measure grasp +the meaning of this our pitiful Individuality.... Do +you know,” said he, halting again, and flashing his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span>spectacles at the captain, “a certain Buddhistic legend?”</p> + +<p>“Which one?” asked the captain, who had already +yawned surreptitiously and had glanced at his watch.</p> + +<p>“Why, this: A raven darted after an elephant who +was running down a wooded mountain toward the sea; +wrecking all things in his path, breaking down the overgrowths, +the elephant plunged into the waves,—and the +raven, tortured by ‘desire,’ fell after him, and, having +waited until the elephant had swallowed enough water +to kill himself and had floated up on the waves, descended +on the carcass with its great ears; the carcass +floated on, putrefying, while the raven greedily pecked +away at it; but when he came to his senses, he saw that +he had been borne far, far from land,—to a distance from +which there is no return even upon the wings of a gull,—and +he began cawing in a piteous voice, that voice for +which Death waits so warily.... It is a terrible +legend!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, it is very significant,” said the captain, indifferently.</p> + +<p>The Englishman lapsed into silence and again began +pacing from door to door. From the surging darkness +faintly floated in the sounds of the second bell, abrupt +and, as is always the case on the ocean, plaintive. The +captain, after having sat for five minutes more out of +politeness, got up, shook the Englishman’s hand, and +went off to his big, restful cabin. The Englishman, reflecting +upon something, continued pacing. The steward, +having endured for half an hour more in the pantry, +entered and with an angry face began switching off the +electricity, leaving only one bulb lit. The Englishman, +when the steward had disappeared, walked up to the wall +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span>and turned off this bulb as well. Darkness descended +at once, the surging of the waves at once appeared +louder, and the starry sky, the masts, the sail-yards at +once appeared in the open windows. The steamer +creaked and clambered from one watery mountain to +another. It swung wider and wider, rising and falling,—and +in its rigging Canopus, the Crow, the Southern +Cross swayed widely to and fro, now flying toward the +abyss above, now toward the abyss below, and roseate +auroras were still flashing above them.</p> + +<p><i>1914.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="GAUTAMI"> + GAUTAMI + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">This</span> is a tale thrice beautiful in its brevity and unpretentiousness, +its meaning and the manner of its +telling; a tale of the love of Gautami, the saintly +and the beatified, who, without knowing it herself, did +come under the sheltering shadow of the Blessed One.</p> + +<p>Thus have we heard it told:</p> + +<p>In a populous hamlet, in a felicitous region, at the +foot of the great Himalayas, in a family poor but worthy, +was Gautami born.</p> + +<p>She was tall of stature and rather lean at first sight; +swarthy and pleasant of face was she, and simple and +unpretentious of soul,—therefore did the neighbours bestow +an unkind by-name upon her. “Gautami the Lean” +did they nickname her, but she took no offense thereat. +And every order did she obey, and to every order she +made such answer as:</p> + +<p>“’Tis well, dear master; I shall do so. ’Tis well, dear +mistress, I shall do so.”</p> + +<p>For may plain speech be forgiven us,—not of the wisest +among men and women was Gautami. But neither did +she utter anything foolish,—perhaps because she did not +say much, and laboured at something from morning till +night. And the raiment upon her was always poor, and +always, always the same, but always neat. And so one +day a youth, truly rich and handsome, the son of the great king +of that region, did behold her upon a river bank, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span>when she was washing the linen of her sisters and +brothers, and he comprehended that she was sensible and +submissive, and that there was none to take her part,—not +even her parents.</p> + +<p>Thus did he think:</p> + +<p>“‘There is no help for it,’ her parents will say; ‘Gautami +is not of the wisest, Gautami is not pretty to look +upon; she does not resemble a daughter of ours, but +rather a servant,—who shall take her to wife? Sooner or +later, she shall submit to some man who may desire her,—for +Gautami is incapable of refusing. Ah, if only this +man prove not without pity, and will give away, to be +rightly brought up, the child that will be born of her!’”</p> + +<p>Thus did the king’s son think.</p> + +<p>As for Gautami, having washed and rinsed the linen, +she squatted down upon her heels over the water glistening +in the sun; having taken off all her raiment, she did +swathe all her body from the arm-pits to the knees in +an old piece of cloth, and, having spread her long black +hair, began to clean her white teeth with a wetted, +splintered little stick, began to wash her swarthy limbs, +not knowing that the king’s son was watching her from +behind the clumps of bamboo. And thereupon he did +call out to her, and, walking up to her, told her with a +smile, yet not unkindly:</p> + +<p>“Thou art endearing, Gautami, and not at all as lean +as they say you are,—a maid clad in simple raiment, and +of tall stature, is often misjudged. I have heard, Gautami, +that thou art submissive. Do not resist me, therefore; +none shall see our caresses at this sultry hour, +near the deserted river.”</p> + +<p>And Gautami was abashed before him, before his assurances +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span>that his wishes were righteous, and she did +whisper in answer:</p> + +<p>“’Tis well, dear master; let it be as thou dost will.”</p> + +<p>And the king’s son, having had his joyance of her, saw +that she was better than she had seemed, and that her +dark eyes, although they were not expressive of thought, +and somehow seemed always the same, were never the +less full of enchantment. And after that their meetings +upon the bank of the river, within the grove of bamboos, +became frequent, and so it was that, whenever the king’s +son would order Gautami to come to him, she always +would come, never disobeying; nor did her submissiveness +and charm change with the intimacy of their bodies; +nor her agreeable manner when their conversation was +brief. And when the ordained time had run, she felt +herself heavy with child.</p> + +<p>Thereupon did the king’s son take her as one of his +concubines, transferring her with her poor little kit, +wherein she kept her modest belongings, the sorry savings +of a maiden who works, into his opulent palace, and +she lived in the palace until her time was come.</p> + +<p>And when her day had approached, one of the king’s +stewardesses did say to her:</p> + +<p>“Gautami! A wife who is about to become a mother +goeth to the house of her father to give birth, in fulfillment +of the custom. But thou art no wife, but a concubine. +Go not therefore to the house of thy parents; +but also do not thou transgress against that which is +seemly.”</p> + +<p>And Gautami, having salaamed before her, got up, +and went out of the gate of the clay walls that enclosed +the palace.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> + +<p>And, having passed over the wooden bridge that +spanned a muddy canal, which was near by, she saw one +who sat under a tree, with a bowl in his hand,—a blind +and an ancient beggar, girt only about his middle with +a dirty rag, whereas his arms, his legs, his bosom and his +withered, glistening back he had exposed to the blazing +sun and the flies.</p> + +<p>And the beggar raised his sightless face, hearkening +to her steps, and he smiled with the tender and poignant +smile of the wisdom of old men.</p> + +<p>“Gautami!” spake he to her. “I see thee not but I +feel thy approach. Gautami, may thy path be blessed!”</p> + +<p>And she kissed the knee of the beggar and went on +upon her way; and upon her way, in the hot, sun-filled +groves, among the satin trees, she did give birth to her +child before its time.</p> + +<p>And blissfully, having rested with tears of happiness +after her sore travail, she returned with the child in her +arms into the palace of the prince and gave full rein to +her ceaseless ecstasy and tender delight, to an emotion +of bodily love for the new-born, to the delectable disquiet +of seeing, scenting, touching, and pressing to her +bosom this growing being, that with every day became +more and more awake to thought and consciousness.</p> + +<p>“My soul hath recalled thee!”—these words had not +been uttered by the prince to Gautami when he had become +as one with her, even though she had been dear +to him, even though they had borne her to the palace of +the king with music, upon bullocks adorned with ribbands +and flowers, having arrayed her as for a bridal, +dressing her black hair smoothly, putting rouge on her +cheeks, and blackening her eye-lashes with kohl.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span></p> + +<p>And Gautami, having given birth to the child, received +submissively the youth’s having grown cold toward her, +and removed herself from his sight, that he might not feel +troubled and guilty upon meeting her by chance.</p> + +<p>And, remaining within the enclosure of the palace, she +settled in a simple hut on the banks of the ponds, taking +upon herself the duty of feeding the swans that swam in +those ponds among the grasses and flowers.</p> + +<p>And for a time she was happy, preparing, without herself +knowing it, for those great sorrows which were destined +to come in ordained replacement of this happiness, +and to put her upon the sole true path, into the society +of the religious brotherhood of those that go clad in +yellow.</p> + +<p>Blessed are the meek at heart, who have riven their +chain.</p> + +<p>In an abode of the highest joy do we dwell, who love +nothing in this universe, and like to a bird are we, that +beareth nothing with it but its wings.</p> + +<p><i>1919.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SON"> + THE SON + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">Mme. Marot</span> had been born and had grown up +in Lausanne, in a strict, honest, and industrious +family. She did not marry early, but when +she did, hers was a love match. In the March of 1876, +among the passengers of the old French steamer +<i>Auvergne</i>, sailing from Marseilles to Italy, was a newly +married couple. The days were calm, cool; the sea, all +silvery mirrors, lost itself in the misty spring distances; +the newly-married couple scarcely ever left the deck. +And all admired them, all beheld their happiness with +amiable smiles: he showed his happiness in an alert, +keen glance, in the necessity for motion, in an animated +amiability to all those around him; she, by that joyous +interest, with which she assimilated every trifle.... +This newly married pair was the Marots.</p> + +<p>He was some ten years her senior; he was short in +height, swarthy of face, with curly hair; his hand was thin, +and his voice sonorous. But in her one sensed an admixture +of some blood other than that of the Latins. +She seemed just the least trifle too tall, although her waist +was splendid; though her hair was dark, her eyes were +a grayish blue. They travelled through Naples, Palermo +and Tunis to the Algerian town of Constantine, where +Monsieur Marot had obtained a rather prominent appointment. +And life in Constantine those fourteen years +which had passed since that happy spring, had given +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span>them everything with which people are usually content: +a competance, domestic harmony, healthy and handsome +children.</p> + +<p>During these fourteen years the Marots had changed +very much in appearance: his face had become as black +as an Arab’s, he had grown gray and dried up from +work, from travelling, from tobacco, and from the sun,—many +took him for a native of Algeria; nor would any +one have recognized her as the woman who had been a +passenger upon the steamer <i>Auvergne</i>: then, even in the +shoes she put outside the door at night, there had been +the enchantment of youth; now she too had glints of +silver in her hair, her skin had grown finer and more +aureate, her hands had become thinner, and in her care +of them, in the dressing of her hair, in her linen, in +her apparel, she already betrayed a certain superfluous +nicety. Their relations had changed as well, of course, +although none would have said that it was for the worse. +And each one led an individual existence: his time was +taken up with work,—he still remained as passionate, +and, at the same time, as sober a man as he had been +before; she had to take care of him, of the children—two +very pretty girls, of whom the elder was by now almost +a young lady,—and everybody unanimously declared +that there was not in all Constantine a better +housekeeper, a better mother, or a more charming person +to chat with in a drawing room, than Mme. Marot.</p> + +<p>Their house stood on a quiet and clean street. From +the second story, out of the front rooms, always in semi-darkness +on account of the closed Venetian blinds, could +be seen Constantine, famed all over the world for its +picturesqueness: this ancient Arabian stronghold, which +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span>had become a French city, lies upon sloping crags. The +windows of the living rooms, shady and cool, looked out +upon the garden,—there, in a perpetual blaze and glare, +dozed age-old eucalypti, sycamores, palms, behind their +enclosures of high walls. The master of the house frequently +absented himself on matters connected with his +work. As for the mistress, she led that confined existence +to which, in the colonies, the wives of all Europeans +are condemned. On Sundays she invariably attended +church. On week days she rarely went out and restricted +herself to a small, choice circle. She read, +busied herself with embroidery, chatted with the children +or took part in their lessons; sometimes, putting the +dark-eyed Marie, her younger daughter, on her knees, +and playing on the pianoforte with one hand, she would +sing old-fashioned French songs, to make the long African +day seem shorter, while the hot wind entered in a +flood from the garden through the wide-open windows.... +Constantine, under the pitiless blaze of the +sun and with all its shutters closed, seemed at these hours +a dead city: only the roller-birds called out behind the +walls of the gardens, and plaintively, with the nostalgia +of colonial lands, sounded the trumpets of the buglers +on the knolls beyond the city, where at times the cannons +made the earth shake with a dull rumble, and one saw +the white helmets of the soldiers twinkling.</p> + +<p>The days in Constantine passed monotonously, but no +one ever remarked that Mme. Marot was oppressed by +this. In her character, exquisite and chaste, never appeared +any heightened sensitiveness, nor any surplus +nervousness. Her health could not be called robust, but +it never caused any alarm to Monsieur Marot. Only +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span>one incident had struck him: once, in Tunis, an Arab +magician had put her so rapidly into a profound sleep, +that she had great difficulty in coming back to herself. +But this had been still at the time of their journey from +France; since that time she had not experienced any such +sharp declines of will power, any such unwholesome susceptibility. +And Monsieur Marot was happy, tranquil, +and convinced that her soul was undisturbed and like an +open book to him. And so it really was, even during +the last—the fourteenth—year of his domestic life.... +But now there appeared in Constantine a certain Emile +du Buys.</p> + +<p>Emile du Buys, son of Mme. Bonnet, an old and close +friend of the Marots, was only nineteen years of age. +Mme. Bonnet, the widow of an engineer, had also a +daughter, Eliza, besides Emile, who was born of the first +marriage. He had grown up in Paris and was already +reading law; but, above all, he was taken up with the +composition of verses which were comprehensible to him +alone, and had attached himself to a non-existent school +of poetry, “The Seekers.” In the May of 1889 Eliza +was preparing for the altar, but took sick and died a +few days after. Emile, who had never up to now been in +Constantine, had come for the funeral. It is easy to +understand how touched Mme. Marot was by this death,—this +death of a girl who was already trying on the +bridal veil; everyone also knows how under such circumstances +intimacy is established even between people who +have scarce come to know one another. In addition, +Emile was in reality only a boy to Mme. Marot. Shortly +after the funeral, Mme. Bonnet went to France, to her +relatives. Emile remained in Constantine, at the suburban +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span>county house of his late stepfather,—at the Villa +Hassim, as it was called in the town,—and began to visit +the Marots almost daily. No matter what sort of a +chap he may have been, or whatever he may have pretended +to be, he was, never the less, very young, very +sensitive, and had need of people with whom he might +seek shelter for a time. “And isn’t it strange,” said some, +“Mme. Marot has become unrecognizable! How animated +she has become; how she has improved in looks!”</p> + +<p>However, these allusions were unfounded. At first +all it amounted to was that her existence became a trifle +gayer, and that her girls became more playful and +coquettish, for Emile, every minute forgetting his grief +and that virus with which, as he thought, the <i>fin de +siècle</i> had envenomed him, fussed for hours at a time +with them, altogether as their equal. Of course he was, +after all, a man, a Parisian, and not altogether of an ordinary +nature; he had participated in that life which +Parisian writers lead, so inaccessible to common mortals; +frequently, with a certain somnambulistic expressiveness, +he would read strange but sonorous verses; and, perhaps, +it was precisely thanks to him that the step of Mme. +Marot became lighter and quicker, her house apparel +just the least trifle smarter, and the nuances of her voice +kindlier and more mocking; there may have been, after +all, a drop of purely feminine joy in her soul over the +fact that here was a man whom it was possible to lord +it over somewhat, with whom it was possible to speak +with a half jesting sententiousness, with that freedom +which was so naturally permitted by the difference in +their years. And also over the fact that here was one +who was so devoted to her entire household,—where, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span>however, the first person for him (this, of course was +revealed very quickly) was still none other than she. +But then, how commonplace all this is! Yet for the +most part he was merely pitiful to her.</p> + +<p>He, who sincerely deemed himself a poet born, wanted +to resemble a poet in appearance as well; he wore his +hair long, and tossed back; he dressed with an artistic +sobriety; he had fine brown hair, which went well with +his pale face, just as his black clothes did; but this pallor +was too anæmic, with a yellow tinge; his eyes glittered +constantly, but, because of his enervated face, they +seemed feverish; and his chest was so thin and flat, his +legs were so thin, his hands so bony, that one became +somewhat ill at ease when he would grow immoderately +lively and would run through the street or garden, bending +somewhat forward, as though he were sliding, in +order to hide his defect,—he had one leg shorter than +the other. In society he was disagreeable, supercilious; +he tried to be enigmatic, negligent; or, at times, exquisitely +impertinent, audacious, at others disdainfully +absent-minded and independent in all things; but only +too frequently he did not sustain his rôles to the end,—he +would forget his part and begin speaking with a certain +naïve candour and impulsiveness. And, of course, +he could not manage to hide his feelings for long, to +dissemble as an unbeliever in love and happiness on this +earth: the entire house soon knew of his being in love. +He had already begun to bore the master of the house +with his visits; he began to bring, every day, bouquets +of the rarest flowers from his villa, to sit at the Marots’ +from morn till night, to recite verses more and more incomprehensible,—the +children heard him, more than +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span>once, adjuring some one to die with him; while at nights +he took to disappearing in the native quarters, in those +dives where the Arabs, wrapped up in their dirty white +<i>bournouses</i>, avidly watch stomach dances and drink the +most pungent of liquors.... To put it briefly, not even +a month and a half had gone before his inamoration had +passed into God only knows what.</p> + +<p>His nerves ceased entirely to serve him. Once he sat +through almost an entire day in silence; then got up, +took his hat, and went out,—and half an hour later was +brought in from the street in a dreadful condition: he was +writhing in hysterics; he was sobbing so vehemently that +he frightened both the children and the domestics. But +Mme. Marot, it seemed, did not attach any special significance +even to this transport. She herself was restoring +him back to consciousness, herself hastily untying his cravat +and persuading him to be a man, and she only smiled +when he, without any restraint whatsoever before her +husband, caught at her hands, covering them with kisses +and vowing his disinterested devotion. Still, it was necessary +to put an end to all this. And so when Emile, +whom the children had soon missed, again made his appearance +several days after the fit, already calmed, even +though he resembled a man who had gone through a +severe illness, Mme. Marot gently told him all that is +usually said in such cases.</p> + +<p>“My friend, you are really like a son to me,” she had +said to him, uttering for the first time this word, “son,” +and really feeling almost a maternal tenderness toward +him. “Do not, then, put me in a ridiculous and painful +position.”</p> + +<p>“But I swear to you that you are mistaken!” he exclaimed, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span>with earnest vehemence. “I am only devoted +to you; I only want to see you, and no more!”</p> + +<p>And he suddenly fell down on his knees,—they were +in the garden on a calm, sultry, dusky evening,—impulsively +seized her by the hips, on the verge of fainting +from passion.... And gazing upon his hair, upon his +white, slender neck, she, with anguish and rapture, reflected:</p> + +<p>“Ah,—yes, yes, I could have had a son almost the same +as he!”</p> + +<p>Still, from that time until his very departure for +France, he committed no more insane actions. Essentially +this was bad; it may have signified that his passion +had become deeper. But outwardly everything had +changed for the better,—only one other time he could +not restrain himself. After dinner one Sunday, in the +presence of several strangers, he said to her, without at +all reflecting that this might attract attention:</p> + +<p>“I most earnestly entreat you to grant me one +minute....”</p> + +<p>She got up and went with him into the empty, half-dark +parlour. He walked up to the window, through +which the evening light penetrated from outside in narrow +longitudinal streaks, and, looking her straight in +the face, said:</p> + +<p>“To-day is the anniversary of my father’s death. I +love you!”</p> + +<p>She turned to go away. Frightened, he hastened to +add as she was going away:</p> + +<p>“Forgive me,—this is the first time and the last!”</p> + +<p>And truly, she heard no new admissions from him. “I +was enchanted by her confusion,” he wrote in his diary +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span>that evening, in his choice and grandiloquent style; “I +vowed to violate her peace no more: for am I not beatified +even as it is?” He continued going into the town,—he +only slept at the Villa Hassim; and his behaviour +varied, but he always observed a greater or lesser degree +of seemliness. At times he was, as formerly, inappropriately +playful, naïve, romping with the children in the +garden; most frequently of all, however, he sat near her +and “drank in her presence,” read newspapers and novels +to her, and “was happy because she listened to him.” +“The children did not interfere with us,” he wrote of these +days, “their voices, laughter, bustle, their very beings, +seemed to serve as the finest of conductors for our emotions; +thanks to them these emotions were still more enchanting; +we held the commonest of every day conversations, +but something else could be heard in them,—our +happiness; yes,—yes; she, too was happy, I affirm +this. She liked to hear me declaim; of evenings, from +the balcony, we contemplated Constantine lying at our +feet in the blue radiance of the moon....” Finally, in +August, Mme. Marot insisted upon his going away, returning +to his studies,—and won; and <i>en route</i> he +entered in his diary: “I am going away! Going away, +empoisoned by the bitter delight of parting! She has bestowed +upon me, in parting, a bit of velvet ribbon that +she had worn about her neck as a girl. When the last +minute came, she gave me her blessing, and I saw a +humid sparkle in her eyes when she said: ‘Farewell, +dear son of mine!...’”</p> + +<p>Whether he was right in his conjecture that Mme. +Marot also was happy in August, is not known. +But that his departure proved painful to her is beyond +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span>a doubt. This word “son,” which had stirred her even +previously, now took on such a sound for her that she +could not hear it in peace. Even formerly, upon meeting +friends on her way to church, who would jestingly say +to her: “What should you pray about, Mme. Marot; +you are without sin and happy as it is!” she had, more +than once, replied with a sad smile: “I complain to God +because he has deprived me of a son....” Now the +thought of a son, of that happiness which he would have +ceaselessly given her by his mere existence in this world, +never left her. And once, shortly after the departure +of Emile, she had said to her husband:</p> + +<p>“Now I have comprehended everything! I now know +surely, that every mother ought to have a son; that every +woman who has no son, if she will but ponder upon herself, +will check up her entire life, will see that she is unhappy. +You are a man, you cannot feel this, but it is +so.... Oh, how tenderly and passionately one can love +a son!”</p> + +<p>She was very kind to her husband that fall. Occasionally, +when she would be left alone with him, she +would shyly say to him:</p> + +<p>“Hector, listen.... I am ashamed now to ask you +about it,—but still.... Do you ever recall the March +of ’seventy-six? ... Ah, if only you and I had a son!”</p> + +<p>“All this confused me very much,” Monsieur Marot +would say subsequently,—“it confused me all the more +because she began to grow very thin. She was growing +weaker, was becoming more and more silent and gentle +in manner. She went less and less often to her friends,—she +avoided going to the city unless it were unavoidable.... +I do not doubt that some dreadful and incomprehensible +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span>ailment was taking possession of her soul +and body!” While the <i>bonne</i> added that, whenever +Mme. Marot went out of the house that fall, she always +put on a thick white veil,—something she had never done +before; that, returning home, she would immediately +raise her veil in front of a mirror and would intently +scrutinize her tired face. It is superfluous to explain that +which went on in her soul at this time. But did she want +to see Emile, did he write to her, and did she reply to +him? He presented two dispatches at court, purporting +to be addressed to him, in answer to his letters. One +was dated the tenth of November: “You are driving +me mad. Calm yourself. Let me have immediate news +of yourself.” The other, the twenty-third of December: +“No, no, do not come, I implore you. Think of me, love +me, as a mother.” But the certainty of these dispatches +having been sent by her could not be proven, of course. +One thing only is certain,—that from September until +January Mme. Marot led a distressed, troubled, painful +existence.</p> + +<p>The late autumn of that year in Constantine was cold +and rainy. Then, as is always the case in Algeria, a +ravishing spring came on. And an animation,—that +beatific, exquisite headiness which is experienced at the +time of the blossoming of spring by people who have already +left their youth behind them,—again began to +return to Mme. Marot. She again began to go out; rode +out a great deal with her children, went with them to the +garden of the deserted Villa Hassim; she contemplated +an excursion to Algiers,—to show her children Blidah, +near which, in the mountains, there is a wooded ravine, +a spot beloved of monkeys.... And so things went +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span>right up to the seventeenth of January in the year of +1890. On the seventeenth of January, she awoke from +some unusually joyous and tender emotion, which, so it +had seemed to her, had stirred her all night long. In +the large room where she slept alone during the absence +of her husband, who had gone away for a long time on +matters connected with his post, it was almost dark because +of the Venetian blinds and the window curtains. +Still, by that blueish pallor which penetrated from behind +them, one could gather that it was still early. And, +in confirmation, the little clock on the night-table pointed +to six. With an enjoyable sense of the morning freshness +entering from the garden, she rolled up in a light +blanket and turned to the wall.... “Why do I feel so +fine?” she thought, dozing off. And, like dim, beautiful +visions, pictures of Italy, of Sicily, began to appear before +her, pictures of that distant spring when she was +sailing in a cabin whose windows looked out on deck, +upon the chill silvery shimmer of the sea; a cabin with +portieres of red silk, shrivelled and faded by time, and +with a high threshold glittering with brass that had been +worn down by many years of cleaning.... Then she +saw the limitless bays of the sea; lagoons; lowlands; a +great Arabian town, all white, with flat roofs, and with +undulating mistily blue knolls and foot-hills beyond it. +This was Tunis, in which she had been but once, on that +very same spring when she had been in Naples, and in +Palermo.... But here a wave of cold seemed to go +through her,—and, with a shiver, she opened her eyes. +It was already going on nine o’clock; one could hear the +voices of the children, the voice of their <i>bonne</i>. She +arose, threw on a <i>peignoir</i>, and, stepping out on the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span>balcony, descended into the garden and sat down on a +rocker, standing in the sand near a round table underneath +a mimosa in blossom, spreading its golden canopy +overhead, its fragrance heavy in the sun. The maid +brought her coffee. She again began to think of Tunis, +and recalled that strange experience she had gone through, +that sweet fear and that beatific abnegation of her will +which was like that of pre-mortal moments,—an experience +she had undergone in that pale blue city in the +warm, rosy dusk, half-reclining in a rocker on the roof +of a house, vaguely seeing the dark face of the Arab +hypnotist and magician who was squatting on his heels +before her, lulling her to sleep with his barely audible, +monotonous sing-song, and the slow movements of his +thin hands. And suddenly, even as she was thinking +thus and mechanically gazing with eyes wide-open upon +a bright silvery spark with which a teaspoon in a glass +of water was aflame, she suddenly lost conscience. And +when she came to with a start, Emile was standing over +her. All that took place subsequent to this unexpected +meeting is known from the words of Emile himself,—from +his story, from his answers to interrogations. “Yes, +I dropped into Constantine as though from heaven!” he +had said. “I had come because I had comprehended that +the powers of heaven itself could not stop me. On the +morning of the seventeenth of January, straight from the +station, without any word of warning, I appeared at the +house of Monsieur Marot and ran into the garden. I +was dumbfounded by that which met my eyes; but I had +scarce made a step when she came to. She, it seemed, +was also amazed, both by the unexpectedness of my appearance, +and that which she had just been through; but +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span>she did not even emit an exclamation. Having looked +at me, like a person just awakened from a deep sleep, +she got up from her seat, putting her hair in order.</p> + +<p>“‘That’s the very presentiment I had,’ she said, somehow +without any expression. ‘You did not obey me!’</p> + +<p>“And with an accustomed gesture, having buttoned +the <i>peignoir</i> at her breast, she took my head in both her +hands and kissed me twice on the forehead.</p> + +<p>“I lost my head from rapture and passion, but she +gently put me aside and said:</p> + +<p>“‘Let us go; I am not dressed,—I shall return at once, +go to the children....’</p> + +<p>“‘But, for God’s sake, what was the matter with you?’ +I asked, ascending after her to the balcony.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, a mere nothing—a slight trance. I had gazed too +long at a glittering tea-spoon,’ she was answering, getting +control of herself, and beginning to speak with more +animation. ‘But what have you done, what have you +done!’</p> + +<p>“I did not find the children anywhere; the house was +empty and quiet; I sat down in the parlour. Suddenly I +heard her begin singing in a distant room in a strong, +sonorous voice, but I did not then comprehend all the +horror of that sound, because I was all atremble with +a nervous ague. I had not slept all night; I had counted +the minutes as the train had sped me toward Constantine; +I jumped into the first <i>fiacre</i> I had met upon running +out of the depot; I did not expect to reach the height +of the city.... I knew, I, too, had a premonition, that +my arrival would be fatal for us; but still I could not +expect that which I had seen in the garden, this mystical +meeting, and such a sharp change in her attitude toward +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span>me! After ten minutes, she came out with her hair +dressed, in a light-gray dress of an iris tint.</p> + +<p>“‘Ah,’ said she, as I was kissing her hand, ‘but I had +forgotten that to-day is Sunday, and that the children +are in church; but then, I have over-slept.... The +children will go to the pine grove after church,—were +you ever there?’</p> + +<p>“And, without waiting for my answer, she rang, ordered +some coffee to be served to me, and, sitting down, began +to look at me intently, and, without listening, began to +question me as to how I had lived, what I had been doing. +She started to speak about herself, of the fact that after +two or three months, which had been very bad for her, +during which she had aged dreadfully,—these words +were uttered with sort of incomprehensible smile,—she +was feeling well, as young as never before.... I replied, +I listened, but did not understand a great deal; +both of us said anything but that which we wanted to +say; my hands grew chill from the nearness of that other +fearful, inevitable hour. I do not deny that I was struck +as if by lightning when she had said ‘I have aged....’ +I suddenly saw that she was right: in the thinness of +her hands, and of the faded, even though really rejuvenated +face, in the slenderness of certain outlines of +the body, I caught certain signs of that which compels +our hearts to contract so painfully, and even somehow +awkwardly,—yet all the more passionately,—at the sight +of an aging woman. ‘Ah, yes, how rapidly and sharply +she had changed!’ I reflected. But she was beautiful, +never the less. I was growing intoxicated as I gazed +upon her. I had grown accustomed to dreaming of her +without end; I had not forgotten that moment, when on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span>the evening of the eleventh of July, I had first embraced +her knees. Her hands, too, were slightly trembling, when +she was putting her <i>coiffure</i> in order, smiling, and gazing +at me; and suddenly—you will understand all the catastrophic +force of this moment!—suddenly, this smile was +distorted, somehow; and, with difficulty, but firmly, she +uttered:</p> + +<p>“‘Still, you ought to go home, to rest up from the +journey; your appearance is dreadful; you have such +suffering, fearful eyes and such burning lips, that I no +longer have the strength to see them.... Do you wish +me to?—I shall go there in your company....’</p> + +<p>“And, without letting me answer, she got up and went +away to get her hat and cloak....</p> + +<p>“We arrived quickly at the Villa Hassim. I lingered +near the entrance, in order to pluck some flowers. She +did not wait for me, opening the door herself. I had +no servants; there was only the caretaker,—he did not +see us. When I stepped into the ante-room, hot and half +dark because of the closed Venetian blinds, and offered +her the flowers, she kissed them, then embracing me with +one hand, she kissed me. From emotion her lips were +hot, but her voice was clear.</p> + +<p>“‘But listen ... how shall we ... have you anything +with you?’ she asked.</p> + +<p>“I did not at first understand her,—so had this first +kiss, this first familiar ‘you’ overwhelmed me,—and I +mumbled:</p> + +<p>“‘What do you want to say?’</p> + +<p>“She took a step back.</p> + +<p>“‘What!’ she said in astonishment, almost sternly. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span>‘Can you possibly have thought that I ... that we can +live after this? Have you anything with you that we +may die?’</p> + +<p>“I recovered my wits and hastened to show her a +revolver loaded with five bullets, with which I never +parted.</p> + +<p>“She rapidly went on, from room to room. The semi-darkness +was everywhere. Hearing only the rustle of +her silken skirts, I followed after her, with that confusion +of all the senses with which a naked man goes on a +sultry day into the sea. Finally we arrived at the end +of our journey; she threw off her cloak and began to +untie the ribbons of her hat. Her hands were still +trembling, and once more I remarked through the dusk +something pitiful and tired in her face....</p> + +<p>“But she died without wavering. During the last moments +she became transformed. Kissing me, and leaning +back in order to see my face, she told me, in a whisper, +a few words so tender and touching that I have not the +strength to repeat them.</p> + +<p>“I wanted to go to pluck some more flowers, in order +to strew our funeral couch with them. She did not let +me, she was hurried, she was saying: ‘No, no, it is not +necessary ... there are plenty of flowers ... here are +your flowers’—and she kept on repeating:</p> + +<p>“‘And so, I charge you, by all that you hold sacred, +that you kill me!’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes, and then myself,’ said I, not for a second doubting +my resolution.</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, I believe you, I believe you!’ she answered, by +now as if in a trance....</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span></p> + +<p>“A minute before her death she said, very quietly, +but simply: ‘My God, this is a deed without a name!’</p> + +<p>“And again:</p> + +<p>“‘Where are the flowers you gave me? Kiss me—for +the last time.’</p> + +<p>“She herself put the muzzle of the revolver up to her +temple. I wanted to shoot, but she stopped me:</p> + +<p>“‘No, that isn’t right,—let me show you the right way. +Here, so, my child.... And <i>afterward</i> make the sign of +the cross over me, and lay the flowers upon my +breast....’</p> + +<p>“When I fired, she moved her lips slightly. I fired +once more....</p> + +<p>“She lay there, calm; in her extinguished gaze there +was some bitter beatitude. Her hair was spread out; a +tortoise shell comb was thrown upon the floor. Swaying, +I got up, to put an end to myself. But, despite the Venetian +blinds, it was light in the room; and in this light, +and amid this quiet which had suddenly arisen all about +me, I distinctly saw her face, already grown pallid.... +And here a sudden madness possessed me,—I dashed to +the window, throwing apart, flinging open the shutters, +and began to shout, and to shoot into the air.... The +rest you know....”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>In the spring, five years ago, travelling over Algeria, +the writer of these lines visited Constantine. He often +recalls now those evenings, rainy and chill, but spring +evenings never the less, which he passed by the fireplace in +the reading room of a certain old and homelike French +hotel. Upon the heavy, elaborate <i>étagères</i> there lay +tattered illustrated journals—in them one could find +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span>some faded portraits of Mme. Marot, at different ages,—among +them, one taken in Lausanne, when she was a +girl.... Her story is told here again, through a strong +desire of telling it in my own way.</p> + +<p><i>1916.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="LIGHT_BREATHING"> + LIGHT BREATHING + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">In</span> the graveyard, over the fresh clayey mound, stands +a new cross of oak,—strong, heavy, smooth,—of the +sort that is pleasant to contemplate.</p> + +<p>It is April, but the days are raw; the monuments of +the graveyard—a spacious, truly provincial one,—can be +seen through the bare trees even from afar, and the chill +wind makes the porcelain wreath at the foot of the cross +tinkle again and again.</p> + +<p>As for the cross itself,—a rather large bronze medallion +has been set into it; while in the medallion is a +photographic portrait of a well dressed and alluring +high-school girl, with eyes joyous, strikingly alive.</p> + +<p>This is Olliya Meshcherskaya.</p> + +<p>As a girl she did not in any way stand out among that +noisy crowd of short brown dresses which so discordantly +and youthfully hums in the corridors and class-rooms; +what could be said of her save that she was one of +a number of rather pretty, wealthy, and happy girls, that +she was bright, but mischievous and very much unconcerned +about whatever admonitions were made to her by +an instructress? Then she began to blossom out, to develop, +not by the day but by the hour. At fourteen, +while her waist was slender and her little feet graceful, +she already had well-defined breasts and all those contours, +the enchantment of which human speech has never +yet expressed; at fifteen she was famed as a beauty. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span>How painstakingly did certain of her mates dress their +hair, how meticulous about their persons they were, how +carefully watchful of their restrained motions! But she +feared nothing,—neither ink spots on her fingers, nor a +flushed face, nor disheveled hair, nor a knee bared in a +running fall. Without any cares or efforts on her part, +and somehow imperceptibly, to her came all that which +distinguished her from all the rest of the high-school +during her last two years there,—elegance, good taste in +dress, cleverness, a radiant, yet an understanding sparkle +in her eyes. No one danced like Olliya Meshcherskaya; +no one raced on skates as well as she did; no one was +sought after at balls as much as she; and, for some +reason, no one was so liked by the lower grades as she +was. Imperceptibly, she became a young lady, and imperceptibly +her fame in school became secure; and there +were already rumours that she was inconstant, that she +could not live without admirers; that Shenshin, a student +in the boys’ high-school, was madly in love with her; +that apparently she was also in love with him, but so +changeable in her treatment of him that he had made +attempts at suicide....</p> + +<p>During her last winter, Olliya Meshcherskaya lost her +head entirely from her pursuit of pleasure,—so they +said in the high-school. The winter was snowy, sunny, +frosty; the sun sank early behind the tall fir grove of the +snow-covered school garden, but it was invariably serene, +many-rayed, holding forth a promise of both frost and +sunlight for the morrow as well; to say nothing of +strolling through Cathedral Street, of skating at the rink +in the city park on a rose-tinged evening, to music, and +amid this throng gliding in all directions, among which +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span>Olliya Meshcherskaya seemed the best dressed, the freest +from care, the happiest. And then one day, during the +main interval, as she was careering like a whirlwind +through the assembly hall escaping from the little girls of +the first grade who were pursuing her and squealing for +joy, she was unexpectedly summoned to the directress. +She stopped in full career; giving a single deep sigh, +with a rapid and by now accustomed movement she put +her hair in order, hitched up the little corners of her apron +at the shoulders, and, her eyes radiant, ran upstairs. +The directress, a small woman, young looking but gray +haired, was calmly sitting with some knitting in her +hands, at a writing table underneath a portrait of the +Tsar.</p> + +<p>“How do you do, Mlle. Meshcherskaya,” she said in +French, without raising her eyes from the knitting. “It +is to be regretted that this is not the first time I am compelled +to summon you here, in order to speak to you +about your conduct.”</p> + +<p>“I am listening, Madame,” answered Meshcherskaya, +approaching the table, looking at her radiantly and in +animation, but without any expression on her face, and +she sat down with that lightness and grace of which only +she was mistress.</p> + +<p>“You will listen but badly to me,—I have, it is to be +regretted, become convinced of that,” said the directress, +and drawing a thread and making the ball of wool roll +over the polished floor, upon which Meshcherskaya had +cast a glance of curiosity, she raised her eyes: “I shall +not repeat myself; I shall not speak at length,” she said.</p> + +<p>Meshcherskaya liked very much this unusually tidy +and large study; on frosty days its atmosphere was so +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span>cozy from the warmth of the glistening Dutch stove, and +the freshness of the lilies-of-the-valley upon the writing +table. She glanced at the young Tsar, drawn at full +length in the midst of some resplendently glittering hall; +at the straight parting of the milky, neatly waved hair +of the directress, and kept an expectant silence.</p> + +<p>“You are no longer a little girl,” said the directress +with much significance, secretly beginning to grow irritated.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Madame,” answered Meshcherskaya simply, almost +gaily.</p> + +<p>“But not yet a woman,” said the directress with still +greater significance, and her dull-coloured face began to +glow slightly. “First of all,—what sort of a coiffure is +that? That is a woman’s coiffure!”</p> + +<p>“Madame, I am not to blame if I have nice hair,” +answered Meshcherskaya, giving the slightest of pats +with both hands to her attractively dressed head.</p> + +<p>“Ah, so that is it,—you are not to blame!” said the +directress. “You are not to blame for your coiffure, nor +to blame for these expensive combs, nor to blame for +ruining your parents with buying little slippers at +twenty roubles!⁠<a id="FNanchor_1_2" href="#Footnote_1_2" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> But, I repeat to you, you lose sight of +the fact that as yet you are only a high-school girl....”</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_1_2" href="#FNanchor_1_2" class="label">[1]</a> A rouble, before the revolution, was equal to about half an +American dollar. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>And at this point, Meshcherskaya, without losing her +simplicity and calmness, suddenly interrupted her with +politeness:</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, Madame, you are making a mistake: I +am a woman. And—do you know who is responsible for +this? Papa’s friend and neighbour, and also your +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span>brother, Alexei Mikhailovich Maliutin. This happened +last summer in the country....”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>And a month after this conversation an officer of the +Cossacks, homely and of plebeian appearance, having +absolutely nothing in common with that circle to which +Meshcherskaya belonged, shot her on the platform of a +railroad station, among a large crowd which had just +arrived with the train. And the incredible confession of +Olliya Meshcherskaya, which had dumbfounded the +directress, was fully confirmed; the officer had declared +to the examining magistrate that Meshcherskaya had +enticed him, had had a <i>liaison</i> with him, had sworn to be +his wife; but at the depot, on the day of the murder, +when she was seeing him off to Novocherkassk, she had +suddenly told him that she had never even as much as +thought of loving him, that their talks about marriage +were all merely a mockery of him, and she let him read +that page in her diary which dealt with Maliutin.</p> + +<p>“I ran over these lines, went out on the platform where +she was promenading, waiting till I should finish reading, +and shot her,” said the officer. “The diary remained in +the pocket of my uniform coat; just glance at what was +written on it on the tenth of July of last year.”</p> + +<p>And the examining magistrate read something approximately +as follows:</p> + +<p>“It is now two o’clock at night. I had fallen fast +asleep, but had immediately awakened.... This day I +have become a woman! Papa, mamma, and Tolliya +had all gone to the city, and I was left alone. I cannot +express how happy I was over being alone! In the morning +I strolled by myself in the garden, in the fields; I was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span>in the forest,—it seemed to me that I was all alone in the +entire universe, and my thoughts were more pleasant than +they have ever before been in my life. I even dined +alone, then I played for a whole hour; to the sounds of +the music I felt as if I would live without end and would +be as happy as never before! Then I fell asleep in papa’s +study. And at four Katiya woke me up, saying that +Alexei Mikhailovich had arrived. I was very glad he +had come; it was so pleasant for me to receive and entertain +him. He had driven up on his pair of very handsome +horses, of a special small breed, and they stood all +the time near the steps; but he remained, because it had +been raining, and he wanted the ground to be dry +toward evening. He was very sorry that he had not +caught father in, was very animated, and bore himself +like a gallant toward me; he joked a lot about having +been in love with me for a long time. When we were +strolling before tea in the garden, the weather was splendid +again, the sun glistened through the entire wet garden, +although it had become really downright chilly, and +he walked about with my arm through his, and said that +he was Faust with Marguerite. He is fifty-six, but he +is still very handsome, and always very well dressed,—the +only thing I did not like was that he had come in a +kind of cape; he is all scented with English eau-de-cologne, +and his eyes are altogether young,—and black; +and his beard is attractively divided in two long parts +and is perfectly silvery. At tea we sat in the glass enclosed +veranda; I felt somehow unwell and laid down +upon a low couch, while he smoked; then he changed his +seat to where I was, and again began telling me some +nice things; then to examine and kiss my hand. I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span>covered my face with a silk handkerchief, and he kissed +me several times on the lips through the handkerchief.... +I cannot understand how it could have, +happened; I lost my mind, I never thought that I was +that kind! Now there is only one way out for me.... +I feel such loathing for him, that I cannot live through +this!...”</p> + +<p>The town during these April days has become clean, +dry, its stones have grown white, and it is easy and +pleasant to walk over them. Every Sunday, after mass, +a little woman in mourning, in black kid gloves, with an +ebony umbrella, starts out walking through Cathedral +Street, which leads to the city gates. She passes by the +engine house, crosses, by means of a paved road, the +dirty square where there are many sooty smithies, and +the air from the fields is blowing fresher; farther on, +between the monastery and the jail, the cloudy horizon +shows white, and the spring fields gray; and then, when +one has treaded his way among the puddles under the +wall of the monastery and turns to the left, one sees something +like a large, low garden, surrounded by a white +enclosure, above the gates of which enclosure is painted +the Assumption of the Mother of God. The little +woman rapidly makes a sign of the cross several times, +and like one who knows the way walks through the +main path. Having reached the bench opposite the +cross of oak, she sits in the wind and the spring chillness, +for an hour, for two hours, until her feet in their +light shoes and her hands in their tight kid gloves grow +entirely benumbed. Listening to the birds of spring, +sweetly singing even in the cold, listening to the tinkling +of the wind through the porcelain wreath, she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span>thinks at times that she would give half her life, if only +that dead wreath might not be before her eyes. The +thought that it was Olliya Meshcherskaya whom they had +buried here, in this very clay, throws her into astonishment +verging on stupefaction: how can one associate that +sixteen year old school girl, who only some two or three +months ago was so full of life, enchantment, gaiety, with +this clayey hummock, and this oaken cross? Can it +be possible that underneath it is the same girl whose eyes +shine so deathlessly out of this bronze medallion, and +how reconcile with this pure gaze that dreadful thing +which is connected now with the name of Olliya Meshcherskaya? +But deep in her soul the little woman is +happy, as all people in love, or devoted to some passionate +idea in general, always are.</p> + +<p>This woman is a teacher of Olliya Meshcherskaya, a +girl of over thirty, who has long lived upon some fiction +or other that supplants her actual life. At first her +brother, a poor ensign and in no way remarkable, was +such a fiction,—all her soul was bound up with him, +with his future, which for some reason appeared to her +brilliant, and she lived in a strange expectancy, that +her fate would somehow change magically, thanks to +him. Later, when he was killed at Mukden, she assured +herself, that she, to her great good fortune, it +would seem, was not like others; that the lack of beauty +and femininity were in her case compensated for +by brains and higher interests; that she was a toiler +in the world of ideas. The death of Olliya Meshcherskaya +captivated her with a new dream. Now Olliya +Meshcherskaya is an object of her ceaseless thoughts, of +rapture, of joy. She goes to Olliya’s grave on every +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span>holiday,—she had formed the habit of going to the +graveyard and of wearing mourning since the death of +her brother. For hours she does not take her eyes off +the oaken cross; she recalls the pale little face of Olliya +Meshcherskaya in her coffin, among the flowers—and also +that which she had once happened to overhear: once, +during the main recess, strolling through the school garden, +Olliya Meshcherskaya was saying, all in one breath, +to her favourite mate,—the stout, tall Subottina:</p> + +<p>“In one of papa’s books,—he has a lot of old-fashioned +funny books,—I read what sort of beauty a woman +ought to have ... you understand, there is so much said +there that one can’t remember everything: well, of course, +black eyes, like boiling pitch,—honest to God, it is written +just so!—like boiling pitch,—eye-lashes as black +as night; a softly mantling blush, a slender waist, a +hand longer than the ordinary,—you understand, longer +than the ordinary!—a little foot, a moderately large +bosom, a regularly rounded calf, a knee the colour of +a sea-shell, sloping—but high—shoulders.... I learned +most of this by heart, that’s how true all this is! But +do you know what the chief thing is?—Light breathing!... +But then, I have it,—you just listen how I +sigh,—really, haven’t I got it?”</p> + +<p>Now this light breathing has been scattered anew +upon the universe, upon this cloud-covered sky, upon +this chill spring wind....</p> + +<p><i>1916.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="AN_EVENING_IN_SPRING"> + AN EVENING IN SPRING + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">On</span> St. Thomas’ week, on a clear evening barely +tinged with rose, at that enchanting time when +the earth has just been freed from the snow, +when, in the little hollows upon the steppes, underneath +the young bare oaks, some gray, hardened snow still lingers, +an old beggar was going from house to house in a +certain village in the Eletz province,—of course, he had +no hat, and there was a long linen wallet slung over his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>This village was a large one, but quiet, lying far out +among the fields. And besides, it happened to be a quiet +evening. There was nobody near the flooded, clayey +pond, that one could not see the limits of; nor upon the +level common where, in the shade of the huts and hayricks, +this old man was walking. His head was bald, +yet still black-haired; he held a long walnut staff in his +hand, and looked like a primitive bishop. The common +was of a clear, vivid green; the air was freshening; the +pond, concavely-full, its tone that of a flashing flesh +colour, was slightly crimson, and there was a certain +beauty about it, despite a bottle-green block of ice, +covered with rusty manure, that still floated about in +it. Somewheres on the other side, warmly and caressingly +lit up against the low-lying sun,—somewhere far-off, +it seemed,—a child, strayed behind some corn-kiln +or storehouse, was crying, and its plaintive, monotonous +wailing was not unpleasant to the ear in the evening +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span>glow.... But the folk thereabouts were none too generous +of alms.</p> + +<p>There, at the entrance to the village, near an old, +well-to-do farm, where age-old oaks covered with the +nests of rooks stood beyond the three-roomed <i>izba</i> of +dark-red brick, a young gray-eyed married woman had +given something, but even that had been a trifle. She +had been standing near the stone threshold amid the +drying spring mire upon a hard-beaten path, holding a +pretty little girl, whose little eyes did not show any glimmer +of intelligence, perched in her arms; the child had +on a little patchwork cap, and, pressing her close against +her, the woman was dancing, stamping her bare feet, +and, as she turned, her cotton skirt would swell out.</p> + +<p>“There’s an old man; I’ll give you to him to put in +his little wallet,” she was saying through her teeth, her +lips feasting on the little girl’s cheeks:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“I’m a-goin’ to dance</div> + <div class="verse indent0">So’s the floor will creak....”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>And, turning, completely around, she changed her +voice to a ringing, coquettish tone, evidently imitative +of some one:</p> + +<p>“Old man, old man,—don’t you need a little girl?”</p> + +<p>The girl was not a bit frightened; she was calmly sucking +a round cracknel, and the mother began coaxing the +little girl, in all sorts of ways, to give it to the smiling +beggar who had come up:</p> + +<p>“Give it to him, my little babe, give it to him; for +you and I are all, all alone on this whole farm; so we +have nothing to give alms with....”</p> + +<p>And the little girl stolidly stretched out her short +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span>little arm, with the saliva-moistened cookie clenched in +her little fist. And the beggar, smilingly shaking his +head at other folks’ happiness, took it and munched it +as he went on his way.</p> + +<p>He held his stick lightly, in readiness, as he went; now +it would be a wicked, snarling watch-dog that would roll +up in a ball underneath your feet,—and having rolled +right up to you, would suddenly become quiet; or else +a yellow, downy hound would ferociously tear the ground +and throw it up with his hind feet, standing near a hay +rick and growling, growling and gasping, with fiery +eyes.... Upon approaching the little window of a hut, +the beggar would make a humble bow and would tap +lightly against the frame with his staff. But often no +one would respond to this tap; many were still finishing +up their sowing, finishing up their plowing, many were +out in the fields. And his soul, the soul of a peasant +from of old, even rejoiced in secret: the folks are out in +the field ... this is the time that feeds the whole year ... no +time for beggars.... And at times, on the +other side of the panes upon which the beggar tapped, a +fair-faced peasant woman carrying a child at breast in +her arms, would lean over as she sat on a bench. +Through the sorry little window, she appeared very big. +Not at all abashed because the beggar could see her soft +breast, as white as wheat-flour, she would wave him away +with her large hand, covered with silver rings, while +the infant, without letting the sweet nipple out of its +mouth, lay back and looked up at her with its dark, +clear eyes, scratching hard its bare little outspread legs, +all dotted with pink from flea-bites. “God will give you +alms,—don’t be angry with us,” the peasant woman +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span>would say calmly. As for the old women, each one of +them would wrinkle up her face painfully, inevitably +leaning out and complaining for a long time, constantly +re-iterating that she’d be glad as glad could be to give +alms, but there wasn’t anything ... everybody was out +in the fields ... and to give without asking she was +afraid,—she, being an old woman, had had her head +bitten off long ago, as it was.... The beggar would +agree with her, would say, “Well, forgive me, for the +love of God,” and would go on farther.</p> + +<p>He had done thirty versts⁠<a id="FNanchor_2_3" href="#Footnote_2_3" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> that day, and was not a bit +fatigued; only his legs had grown benumbed, dulled, and +had begun to wobble. His long bag was half-filled with +crusts and some odds and ends; while under the patched +long coat, narrow belted and long skirted, under the +sheepskin jacket and the much worn blouse, under the +shirt next his skin, there had long been hanging upon +his crucifix an amulet wherein were sewn ninety-two +roubles in bills. And his soul was at rest. Of course, he +was old, thin, all weather-beaten,—his mouth contracted, +parched, until it was all black; his nose was like a bone; +his neck all in wrinkles resembling cracks, criss-crossing +one another, as though his neck were made of cork. But +he was still spry. His eyes, which once upon a time had +been black, were now rheumy and dimmed by thin cataracts; +but still they could see not only the full-flooded +pond, but, as well, the roseate tint upon its farther side, +and even the clear, pale sky. The air was getting +fresher; more loudly, but seemingly from a still greater +distance, came the receding cry of the child; there was +a scent of the chilling grass in the air.... Two pigeons +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span>soared together over the roofs, fell to the clayey little +bank of the pond, and, raising their little heads, began +to drink.... Just a little before, in a lonely farm near +the great road, some women had grown generous and had +given him a big piece of calico and a pair of good +trousers,—oh, good as new, you might say; a young fellow +that belonged to their farm had made them for himself, +but he had been crushed in a pit, in the quarry +where the <i>moujiks</i> had been digging for clay. Now the +beggar was walking along and deliberating: should he +dispose of them, or put them on himself, and throw +away those he had on—which, by now, were really none +too presentable,—near the edge of some field?</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_2_3" href="#FNanchor_2_3" class="label">[2]</a> A verst is about two-thirds of a mile. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>Having come to the end of the village, he entered a +short little lane that led out into the steppe. And into +his eyes glanced the many-rayed, fair-weather sun of +April, sinking far beyond the plain, beyond the gray +fallow-lands and the newly tilled fields of spring-corn. +At the very end of the village, at a turn of the well-beaten, +glistening road, leading to that distant, humble +hamlet where the beggar was thinking of passing the +night, stood a new hut, not large, well-roofed with new +thatch, which was lemon-coloured and resembled a well-combed +head. Keeping aloof from everybody, a man +and his wife had settled here a year ago,—there were +shavings and chips still knocking about here and there. +They were a thrifty, hard-working, agreeable couple, and +sold vodka on the sly. And so the beggar went straight +toward this hut,—there was a possibility of selling the +new trousers to its owner,—and besides, he liked just +to enter it; he liked it because it seemed to be living some +especial life, all its own, quiet and steadfast, standing at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span>the end leading out of the village and gazing with its +clear little windows upon the setting of the sun, while +the sky-larks were finishing their song in the chilling air. +Near the blind wall that gave out upon the by-lane lay +a shadow, but its front wall was gay. Last fall its owner +had planted three acacia bushes beneath the little windows. +Now they had taken root and were already downy +with a yellowish verdure tender as that of a willow. +Having skirted them, the beggar walked in through the +entry into the main room.</p> + +<p>At first, after the sunlight, he could not see anything, +although the sun was looking in here as well, lighting +up the blue transparent smoke floating over the table, +that stood underneath a hanging tin lamp. To gain time +while his eyes grew accustomed, he bowed and crossed +himself for a long time in the direction of the new tinselled +icon hanging in a corner. Then he laid down his +bag and his staff on the floor near the door, and made out +a large-bodied <i>moujik</i> in bast shoes and a tattered short +sheepskin coat, sitting with his back to the door, on +a stool near the table; the well-dressed mistress he saw +sitting on a bench.</p> + +<p>“The Lord’s blessing be with you,” said he, in a low +voice, bowing once more. “Greetings of the holiday +just past.”</p> + +<p>He wanted to sing the paschal <i>Christ Is Risen</i>, but +felt that it would be out of place, and reflected:</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess the master is not at home.... What +a pity.”</p> + +<p>The mistress was not at all bad-looking, with a very +shapely waist, with white hands,—just as though she +were no mere peasant woman. She was in a gala-dress, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span>as always; in a pearl necklace, in a blouse of coarse calico, +with thin puffed-out sleeves, with an apron broidered +in red and blue, in a skirt of indigo wool with terra-cotta +checks, and in half-boots, rough but well-sown and +made to fit the foot, their heels shod with steel. With +her neat head and clear face bent down, she was embroidering +a blouse for her husband. When the beggar +had greeted her, she raised her steady but unglittering +eyes, threw an intent glance upon him, and nodded amiably. +Then, with a light sigh, she laid her work aside, +deftly stuck her needle in it, went toward the oven, her +half-boots clacking over the wooden floor and her flanks +swaying, and took a small bottle of vodka and a thick +cup with blue stripes out of a little cupboard.</p> + +<p>“I have gotten tired, though ...” said the beggar, as +if he were talking to himself,—both in apology for the +vodka and because he was confused by the silence of the +<i>moujik</i>, who had not turned around toward him.</p> + +<p>Stepping softly in his bast-shoes, humbly walking +around him, the beggar sat down upon another stool, at +an opposite corner of the table. As for the mistress, she +put the cup and the small bottle before him, and went +back to her work. Then this stalwart, tattered son of the +steppes raised his head heavily,—there was a whole +greenish demijohn standing before him,—and, narrowing +his eyes, he fixed his gaze upon his humble bottle-companion. +He may have been pretending just a trifle; +but still, his face was inflamed; his eyes were drunken, +filled with the dull glitter of tipsiness; the lips, grown +soft and flabby, were half-open, as in a fever,—evidently, +this was not the first day of his spree. And the beggar +grew a little more wary, and carefully began filling his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span>cup. “After all, now, he’ll drink his and I’ll drink +mine.... This is a tavern, and we don’t bother one +another,” he was thinking. He raised his head, and his +mistily-black eyes, the colour of ripe sloe-thorn, as well +as his whole visage, made rough and weather-beaten by +the steppe, were void of all expression.</p> + +<p>“Where was you tramping?” asked the <i>moujik</i>, roughly +and crazily. “Have you come to steal, seeing as how +all the folks are out in the fields?”</p> + +<p>“Why should I be stealing?” the beggar replied, evenly +and meekly. “I’ve had six children of my own, and my +own house and goods....”</p> + +<p>“You’re blind and you’re blind, but, never fear, many’s +the feather and the twig you’ve carried to your nest!”</p> + +<p>“Why should you be saying that? I’ve worked hard +as could be for ten years in the quartz mines....”</p> + +<p>“That ain’t work. That’s....”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you be saying anything out of the way,” said +the mistress, without elevating her voice, without raising +her lashes, and bit off the thread. “I don’t listen to anything +unseemly. I ain’t heard it from my husband +yet.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that will do; I won’t do it any more ... +lady!” said the <i>moujik</i>. “’Scuse me ... I’m after asking +you,” said he to the beggar, frowningly, “what can +you get out of the ground, now, when it ain’t been +ploughed nor sown?”</p> + +<p>“Well, now, of course.... Whoever has the land, for +example....”</p> + +<p>“Wait,—I’m smarter than you be!” said the <i>moujik</i> +slapping the table with his palm. “Answer what you’re +asked; did you serve for a soldier?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span></p> + +<p>“I was a non-commissioned officer of the Tenth Grenadiers +Regiment of Little Russia, under Count Rumiyant-zev-Zadunaisky.... What +else should I be doing but serving for a soldier?”</p> + +<p>“Keep still, don’t gabble more’n you’re asked! What +year was you took?”</p> + +<p>“In ’seventy six, in the month of November.”</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t you ever at fault?”</p> + +<p>“Never.”</p> + +<p>“Did you obey the officers?”</p> + +<p>“There was no way of my doing otherwise. I had +taken an oath.”</p> + +<p>“But what’s that scar doing on your neck? Do you +understand what I’m driving at now? I am testing +him,” said the <i>moujik</i>, with his eye-brows working +surlily, but changing his commanding voice for a more +simple one, and turning toward the mistress his crazed +face, aureately illumined through the tobacco smoke by +the sunset; “I may be poor, all right, but I’ve caught +more than one fellow like that! I know enough to come +in out of the rain!”</p> + +<p>And again he put on a frown, looking at the beggar:</p> + +<p>“Did you bow down before the Holy Cross and the +Gospel?”</p> + +<p>“That I have,” answered the beggar, who had managed +to take a drink, to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, to sit +up straight again, and to impart to his face and his +misty eyes a dispassionate expression.</p> + +<p>The <i>moujik</i> surveyed him with glazed eyes.</p> + +<p>“Stand up before me!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t raise any fuss. Am I talking to you, or am I +not?” the mistress quietly intervened.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p> + +<p>“Wait, for the love of God,” the <i>moujik</i> waved her +away in vexation. “Stand up before me!”</p> + +<p>“Honest to God, what are you up to....” the beggar +began to mumble.</p> + +<p>“Stand up, I’m telling you!” yelled the <i>moujik</i>. +“I’m a-going to examine you.”</p> + +<p>The beggar stood up and shifted from foot to foot.</p> + +<p>“Hands at the sides! So. Got a passport?”</p> + +<p>“But are you an inspector, or something?”</p> + +<p>“Keep still,—don’t you dare to jaw back at me like +that! I’m smarter than you be! I went all through +this myself. Show it to me this minute!”</p> + +<p>Hastily unhooking his long overcoat, then his sheepskin +jacket, the beggar submissively rummaged within +the bosom of his shirt for a long time. Finally he pulled +out a paper wrapped up in a red handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“Give it here,” said the <i>moujik</i> abruptly.</p> + +<p>And, unwrapping the little handkerchief, the beggar +handed him a small frayed gray book, with a large wax +seal. The <i>moujik</i> awkwardly opened it with his gnarled +fingers and pretended to read it, putting it at a distance +from him, leaning back, and looking at it for a +long time through the tobacco smoke and the red light of +the evening glow.</p> + +<p>“So. I see now. Everything ship-shape. Take it +back,” he said, his parched lips moving with difficulty. +“I am poor as poor can be; it’s the second spring, you +might say, that I’m neither ploughing nor sowing; folks +have done for me.... I fell down at his feet, the dog +that he is.... And yet I’m beyond a price, you might +say.... But you just tell me all that you’ve stolen, or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span>else I’ll kill you right off!” he yelled ferociously. “I +know everything; I’ve gone through all sorts of +things.... I’ve been boiled in pitch, you might say,—that’s +how I’ve suffered.... It is the Lord that gives +us life, but any vermin can take it away.... Give the +bag here, and that’s all there is to it!”</p> + +<p>The mistress merely shook her head, and leaned back +from her embroidery, contemplating it. The beggar +went toward the door and gave the <i>moujik</i> the bag, +just as he had given him the passport. The <i>moujik</i> +took it, and, as he laid it near him on the stool, he said:</p> + +<p>“That’s right. Now sit down,—let’s chat a bit. I’ll +get to the bottom of all this here. I’ll make an inspection +of my own, don’t you fret!”</p> + +<p>And he became silent, staring at the table.</p> + +<p>“Spring...” he muttered. “Ah, but what a sorrowful +sabbath-day it is, that a man may not work in the +fields.... Go on!” he cried out to some imagined person, +trying to snap his fingers:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Oh, the lady starts to dance,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And her fingers is all blue....”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>And he relapsed into silence. The mistress was smoothing +down the embroidery with her thimble.</p> + +<p>“I’m going out to milk the cow,” said she, getting up +from her seat. “Don’t blow up the fire whilst I am out, or +else you’ll burn us out in your drunkenness.”</p> + +<p>The <i>moujik</i> came to with a start.</p> + +<p>“Lordy!” he exclaimed, in hurt tones. “Little mistress! +How can youse say that.... You’ve grown aweary for +your husband, never fear?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> + +<p>“That’s none of your worry,” said the mistress. “He’s +in town, on business.... He don’t go traipsing around +no inns.”</p> + +<p>“You’d go traipsing, too!” said the <i>moujik</i>. +“Well, what would you have me do, now,—go out on +the wayside, or what? You rich devils are all +right....”</p> + +<p>The mistress, picking up a milk-pail, went out. It +was growing dark in the hut; everything was quiet, and +the roseate light was suffused in the soft, spring obscurity. +The <i>moujik</i>, with his elbows on the table, was +dozing, as he pulled at an extinguished, crudely made +cigarette. The beggar was sitting peacefully, with never +a sound, leaning against the dark partition, and his face +was almost invisible.</p> + +<p>“Do you drink beer?” asked the <i>moujik</i>.</p> + +<p>“I do,” came the low answer out of the dusk.</p> + +<p>The <i>moujik</i> was silent for a while.</p> + +<p>“We are vagabones, you and me” said he, morosely +and meditatively. “Poor wayside rubbish.... Beggarmen.... I +feel weary in your company!”</p> + +<p>“That’s right....”</p> + +<p>“But as for beer,—I like it,” said the <i>moujik</i> loudly, +after another silence. “She don’t keep it, the carrion! +Otherwise I would have drunk some beer ... and would +have had a snack of something.... My tongue’s all +soaked,—I want to eat.... I would have had a snack +and drunk something.... Yes.... But she, the +mistress, ain’t got such a bad face! If I was harnessed +up with one like her, I would.... All right, never mind, +sit down, sit down ... I got respect for the blind. +Whenever a grand holiday used to come around, I would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span>take twenty of these here blind men, now, and seat them +at table,—you would have had to look and look to find +another household like ours! And they would sing a +stave for me, and make me a bow to boot.... Do you +know how to sing staves? About Alexei, the Man of +God? I do take to that stave. Pick up your cup,—I’ll +treat you to some of mine.”</p> + +<p>Having taken the cup from the beggar’s hands, he held +it up to the faint light of the evening glow and half-filled +it. The beggar got up, made a low bow, drained +the cup to the bottom, and again sat down. The <i>moujik</i> +dragged the beggar’s bag upon his knees, and, untying +it, began to mutter:</p> + +<p>“I sized you up at once ... I’ve got enough money of +my own, brother; you’re no mate for me.... I go +through my money in cold blood ... I drink it +away ... I drink away a horse a year, and send a +good ram up in smoke.... Aha! So you’ve run up +against a bit of a <i>moujik</i>,—do you understand who I am? +But still, I feel sorry for you. I understand! There’s +thousands of the likes of you roaming about in springtime.... There’s +mire, and sloughs, and never a path or a road,—but +you’ve got to keep on going, bowing before +everybody.... And you can’t never tell whether they’ll +give you anything or no.... Eh, brother! Don’t I +understand you?” asked the <i>moujik</i> with bitter sorrow, +and his eyes filled with tears.</p> + +<p>“No, this time of the year is not so bad, it’s all right,” +said the beggar quietly. “You walk along a field, over +a big, abandoned tract that had once been planned for +a road.... All alone, with never another soul nigh.... +Then, too, there’s the dear sun, and the warm +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span>weather.... True, there’s many a thousand of the likes +of me roaming about. Half of Russia is roaming so.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve drunk away two horses,” said the <i>moujik</i>, raking +the crusts out of the bag, pulling out a waist-coat, +the calico, the trousers, and a bast shoe. “I’m goin’ to +go all through all your miserable pickings, and old rags.... Hold on! +Pants! I must buy them from you, soon +as I come into a little money.... How much?”</p> + +<p>The beggar thought for a while.</p> + +<p>“Why, I’d let it go for two....”</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you three!” said the <i>moujik</i>, getting up, +placing the trousers under him, and sitting down upon +them. “They’re mine! But where’s the other shoe? It +will pass for new,—that means you must have stolen it, +for sure. But then, it’s better to be thieving, than to be +grieving your heart out in the springtime, the way I +am a-doing now; to be perishing from hunger, to be coming +to the end of your rope,—when you take the very +least of the shepherds, and you’ll find him at work.... +I have drunk a horse away,—but a beastie like that is +worth more nor any man.... But am I no ploughman, +no reaper? ... And now you sing a stave, or I’ll kill +you right off!” he cried out. “I feel weary in your +company!”</p> + +<p>In a quavering, modest, but a practiced voice the +beggar began to sing out of the obscurity:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Once upon a time there lived and were two brethren—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Two blood-brethren, two brethren in God and Christ....”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>“Eh, two brethren in God and Christ!” the <i>moujik</i> +chimed in, in a high-pitched and piteous tone, straining +his voice.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p> + +<p>The beggar, with even churchly chanting, continued:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“One dwelt in cold and poverty,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Rotting in his leprosy....”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>“And the o-other was rich!” out of tune, drowning out +the beggar, with tears in his voice, the <i>moujik</i> caught +up the song. “Put more heart in it!” he cried out, as +his voice broke. “Grief has swallowed me up; all men +are having a holiday, all men are sowing,—but here I +be, biting the earth; it’s the second spring that my mother +earth has been barren.... Let me have your cup, or +I’ll kill you right off! Open the window for me!”</p> + +<p>And again the beggar submissively gave him his cup. +Then he started to open the window. Being new, it had +swollen and would not yield for a long while. Finally +it did yield, and flew open. A fresh, pleasant odour of +the fields floated in. It was completely dark out there +now, the roseate night glow had become extinguished, +barely shimmering over the soft darkness of the quiet, +joyous, fecundated field. One could hear the half-drowsy +sky-larks finishing their very last songs.</p> + +<p>“Sing, Lazarus,—sing, my own brother!” said the +<i>moujik</i>, extending a full cup to the beggar. “We’re two +of a kind, you and me.... Only what are you alongside +of me? A vagabone! Whereas I am a working man, +that gives food and drink to all those that suffer....”</p> + +<p>He sat down suddenly, losing his balance, and again +dug into the bag.</p> + +<p>“And what might you have here?” he asked, examining +the calico, which had turned the faintest pink in the +barely perceptible light of the evening glow.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s just so.... Some women gave it to me,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span>said the beggar quietly, feeling everything floating before +him from tipsiness, and that it was time to be going, +and that it was necessary to extricate the trousers from +underneath the <i>moujik</i> somehow.</p> + +<p>“How can that be! You lie!” cried out the <i>moujik</i>, +banging the table with his fist. “It’s a shroud,—I can +see! It’s a grave-shroud!” he cried out with tears in +his voice, and was silent for a while, hearkening to the +abating songs of the sky-larks. Then he shoved the bag +away from him, and, shaking his tousled head, began +to cry: “I have risen in my pride against God!” said +he bitterly, weeping.</p> + +<p>And then, straining himself, he began to sing loudly, +keeping good time:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Oh my mother gave me birth and she guarded me,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Though I now a sinner be, unforgivable!</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All the torments have I borne,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">All the sorrows have I borne,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Nowheres found I joy for me.</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Oh, my mother spoke to me</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And she cautioned me;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">If she only knew, if she only saw,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">She could never bear</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Such calamity....”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>“Oh, my soul is a sinner and a creeping thing!” he +cried out wildly, weeping, and suddenly started clapping +his palms with an elderitch laughter: “Beggar-man, give +me your money! I know you through and through; I +feel you through and through,—give it to me! I know +you have it! It can’t be otherwise,—give it to me for +love of the Lord God Himself!”</p> + +<p>And, swaying, he arose, and the beggar, who had also +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span>arisen, felt his legs giving away from fear, felt a dull +ache start in his thighs. The tear-stained face of the +<i>moujik</i>, barely discernible in the twilight, was insane.</p> + +<p>“Give it to me!” he repeated, in a voice suddenly grown +hoarse. “Give it to me, for the Love of the Queen of +Heaven! I can see, I can see,—you’re grabbing at your +bosom, at your undershirt; that means you’ve got it,—all +your kind has! Give it to me,—it ain’t of no use to +you, anyway, whereas it will set me on my feet forever! +Give it to me of your own will,—brother, don’t lead me +into sin!”</p> + +<p>“Can’t do it,” said the beggar, quietly and dispassionately.</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Can’t do it. I’ve been saving for twenty years. +Can’t bring myself to do it.”</p> + +<p>“You ain’t goin’ to give it to me?” asked the <i>moujik</i> +hoarsely.</p> + +<p>“No ...” said the beggar, barely audible but unshaken.</p> + +<p>The <i>moujik</i> was silent for a long while. The beating +of their hearts could be heard in the darkness.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said the <i>moujik</i>, with an insane submissiveness. +“I will kill you; I’ll go and find me a stone +and then kill you.”</p> + +<p>And, swaying, he went toward the threshold.</p> + +<p>The beggar, standing erect in the darkness, made a +sweeping and slow sign of the cross. As for the <i>moujik</i>, +he, with his head lowered like a bull, was already walking +about under the windows.</p> + +<p>Then there came a crunching sound,—evidently he was +pulling a stone out of the foundation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p> + +<p>And a minute later the door slammed again,—and +the beggar drew himself up still more.</p> + +<p>“For the last time I’m a-telling you ...” the <i>moujik</i> +mumbled out with his cracked lips, walking up to him +with a big white stone in his hands. “Brother....”</p> + +<p>The beggar was silent. His fate could not be seen. +Swinging back with his left arm and catching the beggar +by his neck, the <i>moujik</i> struck hard his shrinking face +with the chill stone. The beggar tore away, backward, +and, as he fell, catching the table with his bast-shoe, +he struck the back of his head against a stool, and then +against the floor. And falling upon him, the <i>moujik</i>, +squeezing the breath out of his chest, frenziedly began +to batter in his throat with the stone.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later he was already far out in the dark, +even field. There were many stars out; the air was fresh; +the earth gave forth a metallic odour. Completely +sobered up, he was walking so rapidly and lightly that +he seemed capable of covering a hundred versts more. +The amulet, torn off the beggar’s crucifix, he was holding +tightly clenched in his hand. Later, he flung it from +him into a dark, freshly ploughed field. His eyes were +staring fixedly like an owl’s; his teeth were tightly +clenched, like a lobster’s claws. Although he had looked +for his cap for a long while, he had been unable to find +it in the darkness; the chillness beat upon his bared +head. His head seemed to him to be of stone.</p> + +<p><i>1914.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_SACRIFICE"> + THE SACRIFICE + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">Simon Novicov</span>, who was living in Oats Ford +with his brother Nicon,—Nicon of the withered +arm,—was burned out in midsummer, about the +fast of St. Peter. The brothers decided to divide their +property, and Simon, intending to leave the Ford, was +putting up a hut for himself near the great highway.</p> + +<p>On the evening before Elijah’s Day the carpenters had +asked for leave to go home. After supping with the large +family of his brother, in the midst of flies and the clamour +of children, he lit his pipe, put on his short sheepskin +coat, and said to his folks:</p> + +<p>“It’s stuffy in here. I’m going to the building,—I’ll +sleep the night there. I’m afraid the tools might be +stole.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to take the dogs with you, at least,” one +of the women counselled him.</p> + +<p>“Get along with ye!” said Simon, and went out.</p> + +<p>There was a full moon out that night. What with his +thoughts of his future household, Simon did not even +notice how he had climbed up hill by the broad path +to the pasture lands that led out of the village, and, after +putting about a verst behind him on the big road, had +come right up to his hut, which had a ceiling but was, +as yet, unroofed. It stood at the edge of the fields of +grain, in the midst of an empty field. Its sashless windows +gaped blackly, and it was dully glistening against +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span>the light of the moon with the ends of its new corner-beams, +with the tow sticking out of its joints, and the +sticks and shavings about its threshold. The aureate +July moon, which had risen far beyond the ravines of +the Ford, hung low and was turbid. Its warm glow +was diffused over everything. The ripe grain glimmered +whitely ahead,—dully, sombrely, like stretches of sand. +But toward the north the sky was altogether overcast,—a +cloud was gathering there. A soft breeze, blowing +from all sides, would at times gather strength and run +fitfully over the rye and oats,—and they would rustle +crisply, disquietingly. The cloud toward the north appeared +immovable, but it was frequently shot with an +eerie, fleeting, golden sheen.</p> + +<p>Simon, stooping at the threshold through habit, entered +the hut. It was dark and stuffy within it. The yellow +moonlight, looking in at the unglazed windows, did not +blend with the darkness, but only intensified it. Simon +threw down his short sheepskin coat upon the shavings in +the middle of the hut, directly in the path of one of the +rows of light, and lay down on his back. After drawing +at his extinguished pipe for a space, he put it in his +pocket, and, after thinking for a little while longer, fell +asleep.</p> + +<p>But now the wind began blowing in at the windows, +and, by way of the entry, through the door. The thunder +began muttering dully in the distance. Simon sat up. +The wind increased—it was now running over the feverishly +murmuring grain without cease, and the light of +the moon had become still dimmer. Simon walked out +of the hut, and, turning the corner, was among the crisp +and sultry swishing of the oats, which were as pallid +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span>as a shroud. He glanced at the cloud,—the colour of +dark slate, it had taken up half the heavens. The wind +was blowing straight in his face, tugging at his hair and +tangling it, interfering with his vision. The flashes of +lightning, too, interfered with his vision and blinded it, +as they flared up, more and more ominous and fiery. +Simon, making the sign of the cross, got down on his +knees: in the distance, in the midst of the sea of oats, +standing out against the bank of the cloud, a small +throng was advancing toward him. Their heads were +bared; in white girdles, in new short sheepskin coats, +they were with difficulty bearing a seven-foot altar-piece, +painted by some ancient master. The throng was mistily-spectral, +but the image was very plain,—an awesome, +severe countenance, showing red upon a black panel, +which was burnt by candles, dripped over by wax, and +bound at the edges by old, blue-coloured silver.</p> + +<p>The wind had parted the hair upon Simon’s brow, +pleasantly blowing it back, and Simon, in fear and +joy, bowed down to the ground before the image. +When he finally did raise his head, he saw that the crowd +had halted, awkwardly supporting the image, which was +majestically leaning backward; while upon the cloud was +limned, as in a church picture, a towering, enormous +visage: the mighty, hoary-bearded Elijah himself, clad in +chitons of fire, and sitting, like God-Sabbaoth, upon the +lifelessly-blueish tiers of the lower clouds, while two +greenish-orange rainbows were flaming above him, against +the slate-coloured background. And, flashing his lightning-like +orbs, blending his voice with the distant rumble +of the thunder, Elijah spake to Simon:</p> + +<p>“Stand up straight, Simon Novicov. Hearken, ye +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span>princes and peasants! I am about to judge him, Simon +Novicov,—a peasant tenant of the Eletz province, of the +Predtechev District, of the little village of Oats Ford.”</p> + +<p>And the entire field, glimmering as white as sand +all around, with all its ears of grain together with the +tares darted forward, bowing down before Elijah, and +amidst their murmur Elijah began to speak:</p> + +<p>“I was wroth with thee, Simon Novicov,—I wanted +to punish thee.”</p> + +<p>“Wherefore, Father?” questioned Simon.</p> + +<p>“It is no fitting thing for thee, Simon Novicov, to be +questioning me, Elijah. Thou art the one to make answer.”</p> + +<p>“Well, forgive me; let it be as thou dost will,” said +Simon.</p> + +<p>“Summer before last I did kill Pantelei, thy eldest son, +with a stroke of lightning; wherefore didst thou bury him +in the ground up to his waist, bringing him back to life +through black magic?”</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, Father,” said Simon, bowing, “I felt +sorry for the young lad. Judge for thyself,—why, he +would be the one to give me food and drink in my old +age.”</p> + +<p>“Last summer I did mow, I did trample down thy +rye with hail and with whirl-winds: why didst thou get +knowledge of it beforehand, and sell this rye while it +yet stood uncut?”</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, Father,” said Simon, bowing. “My +heart felt a forewarning; need did force me to it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, was it not I that burned thee out but just now, +at St. Peter’s fast? Wherefore dost thou hasten to build +anew, to divide thy goods with thy brother?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span></p> + +<p>“Forgive me, Father,” said Simon, bowing. “My +brother of the withered hand is unlucky; I thought all the +misfortunes were coming from him.”</p> + +<p>“Shut thy eyes. We shall ponder, we shall take counsel, +as to thy punishment.”</p> + +<p>Simon shut his eyes; he bowed down his head. The +wind was noisy,—under cover of its noise he was trying to +eavesdrop, on the sly, what Elijah and the peasants were +whispering together about. But there came a heavy peal +of thunder near at hand,—not a thing could he hear.</p> + +<p>“No, we can’t think of anything,” said Elijah with all +his voice. “Thou thyself must counsel me.”</p> + +<p>“And may I open my eyes?” asked Simon.</p> + +<p>“There is no need of that. A blind man thinks all the +surer.”</p> + +<p>“Thou art a queer fellow, Father,” Simon smiled +thoughtfully. “Well, what is there to think about? I +shall place a three-rouble candle before thee....”</p> + +<p>“Thou hast not the wherewithal. Thou hast spent +everything on building.”</p> + +<p>“Well, in that case I shall go on a pilgrimage to Kiev, +or to Belgorod,” said Simon, irresolutely.</p> + +<p>“That’s just loafing, and a waste of shoe-leather. +Who’s going to take care of the household?”</p> + +<p>Simon went into deep thought.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, slay my little girl Anphiska. She’s just +going on three. The girl, to tell the truth, is a kind-hearted, +endearing little creature,—we will all feel sorry +for her; but then, there’s no help for it.... One can’t +get everything with just a little!”</p> + +<p>“Lend ear, ye faithful,” said Elijah loudly. “I agree.”</p> + +<p>And the cloud was rent by such a flame that Simon’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span>lids almost caught fire, and the heavens were split by +such a peal that all the earth quivered beneath him.</p> + +<p>“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God-Sabbaoth!” whispered +Simon. “Heaven defend us!”</p> + +<p>When he came to, opening his eyes, Simon beheld only +the dust-laden cloud, the deserted, agitated grain, and +himself, standing on his knees in the midst of its ears. +The wind was whirling in a pillar over the road, and the +moon had grown entirely dimmed.</p> + +<p>Simon jumped up on his feet. Forgetting all about his +short coat, about the axes and the planes, he started off +for home, for the village, braving the whirl-winds. The +heavy rain caught him out on the common. The dark +clouds had piled up above the darkened ravines. The +red moon was sinking beyond them. The village was in +heavy slumber, but the cattle in the yards were stirring +uneasily, the roosters were crowing in alarm. And, +running up to his old, half-burned-down hut, Simon +heard the wailing of women within. Nicon of the +withered arm was standing at the threshold, in his sheepskin +coat and without a hat; scrawny and wrinkled +beyond his years, he was looking about dully and confusedly.</p> + +<p>“There’s been a calamity at your house,” he said, and +one could tell by his voice that he was not yet thoroughly +awake.</p> + +<p>Simon ran into the hut. The women-folk were running +about in the darkness, screaming, looking for the sulphur +matches. Simon snatched a small box of them out from +behind the image, and lit a tallow-wick. The cradle, +which was hung near the oven, was swinging from +side to side,—the women had been striking against it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span>when they were running about. And within it lay the +little girl, dead. She had turned all livid, and a quilt +work cap was smouldering on her head.</p> + +<p>Simon has been living happily, ever since.</p> + +<p><i>1913.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="AGLAIA"> + AGLAIA + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">In</span> that community, in that forest village where Aglaia +was born and had grown up, she was called Anna.</p> + +<p>She was bereaved of her father and mother at an +early age. The small-pox visited the village one winter, +and many of those who had gone to their rest were carted +off then to the churchyard in the settlement beyond +Sviyat-Oziero.⁠<a id="FNanchor_3_4" href="#Footnote_3_4" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Two coffins in one day stood in the hut +of the Skuratovs as well. The little girl had experienced +neither fear nor pity; she had only come to remember +forever that odour which emanated from them, which is +like nothing else on earth and is unknown and oppressive +to the living, and that winter freshness, that cold of the +Lenten thaw before Easter, which had been let into +the hut by the peasants who were carrying the coffins out +to the wide sledge standing under the windows.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_3_4" href="#FNanchor_3_4" class="label">[3]</a> Holy Lake. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>In that forest-covered region the villages are few and +small; their crude, log-enclosed yards are scattered without +any order, just as the clayey hummocks permit and as +near as possible to the little rivers, to the lakes. The +folk thereabouts are not so very poor and watch after +their goods, their ancient way of living,—notwithstanding +the fact that they have been going out to hire since time +out of mind, leaving the women to plough the stepmotherly +earth, where it is free of the forest; to mow the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span>grasses in the forest; and in winter to whirr at the weaving +loom. Toward that way of living did Anna’s heart +incline in her childhood; endeared to her were both the +black hut and the burning rush light in its cresset.</p> + +<p>Katherine, her sister, had long been married. She it +was who managed the house,—at first together with her +husband, who had been taken into the household; and +later, when he began going away for a whole year at a +time, all by herself. Under her eyes the girl grew, +steadily and rapidly; never did she cry, never did she +complain of aught; only she had constant fits of pensiveness. +If Katherine called to her, asking what the matter +with her was, she would answer simply, saying that her +neck was creaking, and that she was listening to it. +“There,” she would say, turning her neck, and her fair +little face, “do you hear it?” “And what are you thinking +of?” “Oh, just so. I don’t know.” During her +childhood she never had anything to do with girls of her +own age, and never did she go anywheres,—only once had +she gone with her sister to that old settlement beyond +Sviyat-Oziero, where in the churchyard, under pine trees, +crosses of pine wood stick up out of the ground, and +where stands a little church of logs, roofed with blackened +tiles of wood that look like scales. That was the +first time that she had been dressed up in bast slippers +and a <i>sarafan</i> of bright coloured linen, and that a +necklace and a yellow kerchief had been bought for +her.</p> + +<p>Katherine grieved about her husband and wept; wept, +too, about her childlessness. But, having shed all her +tears, she gave a vow to have no more knowledge of her +husband. When her husband would come, she would +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span>meet him joyously, speaking with him cheerily, painstakingly +looked over his shirts, mending all that stood in +need of mending; she bustled about the oven, and was +pleased when he liked anything; but they slept apart, like +strangers. And when he would go away, she would again +become wearied and quiet. More and more frequently +did she leave the house, staying at a near-by nunnery, +visiting the holy old man Rodion, who was striving for +his soul in a hut within a forest that was beyond that +nunnery. She was perseveringly learning to read, bringing +saintly books from the nunnery, and would read +them aloud; not in her usual voice, but pitching it in high +sing-song. She would be sitting at a table, her eyes cast-down, +holding the book with both hands, while the girl +stood near by, listening and picking a splinter from the +table, looking all about the hut, which was always in the +best of order. Drinking in the sounds of her own voice, +Katherine read on of saints, of martyrs, who had contemned +the dark things of our earth for things heavenly, +desirous of crucifying their flesh with its lusts and its +passions. Anna listened attentively to the reading, as to +a chant in an unknown tongue. But as soon as Katherine +would shut the book, she would never ask her to read +some more: the book was always beyond her understanding.</p> + +<p>In adolescence she grew not by days, but by hours. +When she was about thirteen, she became exquisitely +slender, tall, and strong. She was gentle, fair of face, +blue-eyed, but the work she liked was of the commonest, +of the roughest. When summer came on, when Katherine’s +husband returned, when the entire village went to +the mowing, Anna, too, went with her people and worked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span>like a grown-up. Only, there is not a great deal of summer +work in that region. And once more the sisters +would be soon left alone, once more they would return to +their placid existence; and, once more, having done for +the day with the live stock, with the oven, Anna would be +sitting at her sewing, or the loom, the while Katherine +read aloud: of seas, of deserts, of the city of Rome, of +Byzantium, of the miracles and deeds of the first Christians. +In the black hut in the forest sounded then words +that enchanted the ear: “In the land of Cappadocia, in +the reign of the devout Byzantian emperor, Leo the +Great ... In the days of the patriarchship of the most +holy Joachhim of Alexandria, in Æthiopia, which is most +distant from us....” Thus did Anna come to know of +the virgins and youths, torn to pieces by wild beasts at +pagan circuses; of the heavenly beauty of Barbara, beheaded +by her cruel, ferocious, unnatural parent; of the +relics of saints, guarded by angels on the Mount of Sinai; +of the warrior Eustacius, converted to the true God by +the call of the Crucified Himself, who burst out like a refulgent +sun between the horns of a deer that he, Eustacius, +had been pursuing in the chase; of the labours of Sabbas +the Sainted, that dwelt in the Vale of Fires; and of many, +many others, who had spent their bitter days nigh desert +springs, in crypts, and in mountain cenobies.... During +her adolescence she had beheld herself in a dream, clad in +a long linen shift and with a crown of iron on her head. +And Katherine had told her: “That stands for dying, +sister,—for an early death.”</p> + +<p>And when she was going on fifteen, she became altogether +maidenly, and folks marvelled at her loveliness; +the aureately-white colour of her face was just the least +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span>bit tinged with a delicate blush; her eyebrows were bushy, +of a light flaxen colour, her eyes blue; she was light, well-made,—unless +it were that she was disproportionately tall, +slender, and long of arm; quietly and beautifully did she +raise her lashes. The winter that year was a rigorous one. +The forests, the lakes, were snowed under; the openings in +the ice were thickly frozen over; the frosty wind burned; +and of dawns, two mirror-like, rainbow-tinged suns were +flashing at the same time. Before the Christmas holidays +Katherine ate bread-and-<i>kvass</i> pudding, and dried oatmeal; +but Anna would nourish herself only with bread: +“I want to fast till I get another prophetic dream,” she +had told her sister. And toward the New Year again +did she have a dream: she saw an early, frosty morning; +the blinding, icy sun seemed to have just rolled out from +beyond the snow-drifts, and a cutting wind was making +her catch her breath; she was flying upon skiis against the +wind, toward the sun, over the white plains, in pursuit of +some wondrous ermine,—but she suddenly tumbled off +into some abyss, and was blinded, stiffed in the cloud of +snow dust swirling up at the edge of the precipice from +under the skiis.</p> + +<p>She could understand nothing of this dream; but Anna, +during all New Year’s day, did not once look into her +sister’s face. The priests were going through the village; +when they came to see the Skuratovs in their turn, she +hid behind the curtains of the sleeping place above the +big oven. During that winter, not having yet become +settled in her intentions, she was frequently dreamy, and +Katherine would say to her: “I have long been calling +you, to go to Father Rodion,—he would ease you of all +your worries!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> + +<p>She read to her that winter of Alexis, the Man of God; +and of John, who dwelt in a hut of branches,—both had +died in poverty at the gates of their well-born parents; +she read of Simeon Stylites, who had rotted alive +while standing upon a pillar of stone. Anna asked her: +“But why doesn’t Father Rodion stand on a pillar?” +And she answered, that the tasks of holy people are +varied, that our Russian martyrs had sought salvation, +for the most part, in the caverns of Kiev,—and, later on, +within impassable forests; or else had attained the +Kingdom of Heaven as naked, useless innocents. During +that winter did Anna find out about the Russian saints as +well,—her spiritual forefathers: about Matthew the +Clear-Seeing, upon whom was bestowed the gift of seeing +only the dark and base things of this world, of penetrating +into the innermost hidden recesses of filth in the hearts of +men, of beholding clairvoyantly the visages of underground +devils and of hearing their impious counsellings. +She heard of Mark the Grave Digger, who had dedicated +himself to the burial of the dead, and who through his +incessant proximity to Death had gained such sway over +it that it trembled at the sound of his voice; she heard of +Isaac the Anchorite, who had clad his body in the undressed +hide of a goat which had grown to his skin forever, +and who gave himself up to mad dances with evil +spirits, that enticed him of nights into skipping and +reeling to their noisy calls, reeds, tympani and dulcimers.... +“From him, from Isaac, started all these innocents,” +Katherine had told her. “And how many +there were of them afterward, none can reckon up! +Father Rodion said thus: ‘There have been none of them +in any other land save ours; only to us did the Lord send +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span>them as a visitation for our great sins, and through His +great grace.’” And she added what she had heard in the +nunnery,—the grievous tale of how Russia had retreated +out of Kiev into impassable forests and morasses, into +its little towns of bast, under the cruel rule of the princes +of Muscovy; what Russia had endured from seditions, +from internicine wars, from ferocious Tartar hordes and +from other chastisements of God: from plague and +famine, from fire and heavenly portents. There was +then, said she, such a vast multitude of the folks of God, +suffering and acting the innocent for the sake of Christ, +that the holy songs were not to be heard for their squealing +and clamouring in the churches. And a considerable +number among them, said she, were canonized among the +heavenly throng. There was Simon, from the forests of +the Volga regions, who wandered over desert waste lands, +hiding himself from the sight of man, clad only in a torn +shift, and afterward, dwelling in a city, he was castigated +every day by its citizens for his uselessness, and expired +from the wounds inflicted during such castigations. +There was Procopius, who took upon himself ceaseless +tortures in the town of Viatka, for that he would, in the +night-time, clamber up into belfries and ring the bells in +quick alarum, as though there were a fiery conflagration. +There is a Procopius that was born in the region of Ziryan, +amongst savages, amongst hunters after beasts; all +his life did he go about with three coal-rakes in his hands; +he did adore the desert places, the mournful wooded +banks of the Sukhona, where, perched upon a little bowlder, +he did with tears pray for those that sailed upon it. +There was Jacob the Beatified, who sailed in an oaken +log, hollowed out into a coffin, upon an ice block, down +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span>the river Msta to the benighted dwellers of that poor +region; there is John the Hairy, from near Rostov-the-Greater, +whose hair was so unruly that it threw into a +panic all whosoever might behold it; there was John of +Vologda, called Big Cap, small of stature, wrinkled of +face, all hung over with crosses,—until his very death he +never took off his head covering, that was like to a pot +of cast-iron; there was Basil, that went about naked, who +wore for apparel, in winter cold and summer heat, only +iron chains and a little handkerchief that he bore in his +hand.... “Now, sister,” Katherine had said, “they are +standing before the face of the Lord, rejoicing among the +throng of His Saints; as for their imperishable relics, +they repose within shrines of cypress and of silver, in the +holiest of cathedrals, by the side of kings and prelates!”</p> + +<p>“But why doesn’t Father Rodion be an innocent?” +again asked Anna. And Katherine answered that he had +followed in the steps of those who imitated not Isaac, but +Sergius of Radonezh; he had followed in the steps of the +men who had founded monasteries in forests. Father +Rodion, said she, had at first sought salvation in an +ancient and famed desert place, located in the same regions +where, in the midst of a dreary forest, in the hollow +trunk of an oak, three centuries old, a great saint had once +dwelt. There had Father Rodion served a strict novitiate +and taken the habit; had merited through the tears of his +repentance, and through his mercilessness toward the +flesh, a sight of the countenance of the Queen of Heaven +Herself; he had fulfilled his vow of seven years’ seclusion +and seven years’ silence, but he was not satisfied with +that,—he left the monastery, and had come,—it was now +many, many years ago,—into these forests. He had put +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span>on shoes of bast, a white robe of sack-cloth, a black stole +with an eight-pointed cross upon it, with a depiction of +the skull and bones of Adam; he subsists only upon +water and uncooked swamp-grass; he has barred the +little window of his cabin with a holy icon; he sleeps in a +coffin, under an ever-lit holy lamp, and at the hour of +every midnight he is incessantly beset by howling beasts, +by throngs of ravening dead men, and by devils....</p> + +<p>On her fifteenth birthday, at that very age when a +maid ought to become a bride, Anna forsook the world +forever.</p> + +<p>Spring that year came early and was a warm one. +The berries ripened in the woods beyond number; the +grasses were waist-high, and at the beginning of the Fast +of St. Peter⁠<a id="FNanchor_4_5" href="#Footnote_4_5" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> the entire village went out to mow them. +Anna worked with a will; became sunburned among the +grasses and the flowers; the blush flamed darker upon +her face; the kerchief, pushed lower over the forehead, +hid her warm glance. But once, in the meadow, a great +glistening snake with an emerald head wound itself +around her bare foot. Seizing the snake with her slim +and long hand, tearing away its icy and slippery plait, +Anna cast it far from her without even lifting her face. +But she was very much scared,—she had become whiter +than linen. And Katherine said to her: “This, sister, +is the third sign for thee: dread the Arch-Tempter, a +dangerous time is coming for thee!” And it may have +been the fright, or it might have been these words,—but +for a week after that the deathly pallor did not depart +from Anna’s face. And just before St. Peter’s Day, +suddenly and unexpectedly, she begged to go to the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span>nunnery to hear the all-night mass,—and did go, and +did spend the night there, and in the morning was found +worthy of staying in the crowd of humble folk near the +threshold of the recluse. And a great grace did he show +to her: out of all the crowd did he remark her and did +beckon her to him. And she came out of his cabin with +her head bent low, covering half her face with her kerchief, +having pushed it down over the fire of her flaming +cheeks, and in the confusion of her emotions did not see +the ground beneath her. And a chosen vessel, a sacrifice +to God, had he called her; had lit two little wax tapers, +and, taking one himself and giving the other to her, had +stood a long while in prayer before an image. And afterwards +he had ordered her to kiss that image,—and had +given her his blessing to enter the nunnery for a novitiate +within a short while. “My joy,—thou simple sacrifice!” +he had said to her. “Be thou a bride not of this earth +but of heaven! I know, full well, thy sister hath prepared +thee. I shall concern myself with this also, sinner +that I am.”</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_4_5" href="#FNanchor_4_5" class="label">[4]</a> In midsummer. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>In the nunnery, in the monastic atmosphere, abandoning +the world and her own will for the sake of +her spiritual godfather, Anna, who has been named +Aglaia upon taking the veil, passed three and thirty +months. And when the thirty-third month was almost +run, she did depart this life.</p> + +<p>How she had lived there, how she had sought her +salvation, is known to none, for the remoteness of time. +But still some things have remained in the memory of +the people. Once upon a time, some peasant pilgrim +women, from various and distant places, were bound +for that wooded region where Anna had been born. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span>Near a small river which they had to cross, they met the +usual wanderer over holy places, in appearance ill-favoured, +tattered,—even, to put it plainly, queer, for the +reason that his eyes, underneath a derby that had once +been high in the world, were bandaged with a kerchief. +The women began questioning him about the ways, the +roads to the nunnery; about Father Rodion himself, and +about Anna. He, in answering them, spoke a bit about +himself at first: “I, now, little sisters, don’t know such +a terrible lot, myself; however, I can chat a bit with you, +for I am returning from those very parts. You,” he +said, “must feel uncanny in my company, and I don’t +wonder at it: I’m not a sweet sight to many; whoever I +meet, whether he be afoot or on horseback, seeing a little +old pilgrim going through a forest, hobbling along all by +his lonesome with a white kerchief over his eyes, and, +to boot, chanting psalms to God,—of course, he’s +taken aback. But then, for my sins, far too greedy and +quick are my eyes; my sight is so rare and penetrating, +that I can see even at night, like a cat; and being in +general sharp-sighted beyond measure, because I don’t +travel with other folk but keep to myself,—well, for that +reason have I resolved to curb a little my corporeal +sight....” Then he began telling them how great a +distance, by his reckoning, the pilgrim women had left +to go; toward what regions they should direct their way; +where they might have lodgings and rest; and what sort +of a place the nunnery was.</p> + +<p>“First,” said he, “will come the settlement near Sviyat-Oziero; +then that very village where Anna was born; +and then you’ll see another lake, belonging to the convent, +which lake, though shallow, is of a decent size, and you’ll +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span>have to sail over this lake in a boat. And, as soon as +you get out of the boat, right there is the convent itself, +so near you might almost reach it with your hand. +Of course, there’s no end of woods on the other shore +as well, and through the trees you can see, as always, +the walls of the convents, the domes of chapels, the cells, +the hostels....”</p> + +<p>Then, for a long while, he related to them the life of +Rodion, the childhood and adolescence of Anna, and, in +the end, he told them of her stay in the nunnery:</p> + +<p>“Oh, her stay was not a long one,” said he. “It is a +pity you say, with such beauty and youth? Of course, +to such fools as we, it would be a piteous thing. But +it’s plain to be seen Father Rodion knew well what he +was about. For he was that way with everybody,—kindly, +and meek, and gladsome, yet set on having his +way, unto mercilessness; but he was especially so with +Aglaia. I, my little ones, have been at the spot where +she is resting.... A long little grave, beautiful, all grown +over with grass, all green.... And I won’t hide anything,—I +won’t hide that it was there, at her grave, that +I thought of tying up my eyes; it was Aglaia’s example +that gave me the idea; for she, I must tell you, during +all her stay in the nunnery, did not for a single hour +raise her eyes; even as she had pushed the veil down +over them, so did it remain, and she was so sparing of her +speech, so evasive, that even Father Rodion himself wondered +at her. And yet, come to think of it, it was no +easy matter for her to bear her task—to bid eternal +farewell to the world, to the face of mankind! And +her work in the nunnery was the very hardest that she +could find, while her nights she spent standing in prayer. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span>But then, how Father Rodion had come to love her! He +marked her out from all the rest, let her come every day +into his little cabin; held long converse with her about +the future fame of the nunnery; even revealed his visions +to her,—with a strict order of silence. Well, and +so she burned out, like a candle, in the briefest time.... +Again do you sigh, being sorry? I do agree with you, it +is a sad thing! But I will tell you something far greater; +for her great humility, for her disregard of this world, +for her silence and for her toiling beyond her strength, +he wrought a thing unheard of: toward the end of the +third year of her striving, he invested her with the habit, +and afterward, after prayer and holy meditation, he did +summon her to him on a certain fearsome hour and commanded +her to her end. Yes, that is just the way he +spoke to her: ‘My joy, thy time has come! Remain +thou in my memory just as glorious as thou now art, +standing before me in this hour; depart to God!’ And +what think ye? Within four and twenty hours she +did forsake this life. She lay down, burning as with +a fire,—and passed out. True, he did console her,—he +confided to her before her end that by reason of her +not having been able, during the first days of her +novitiate, to keep just a few things of his secret discourses, +only her lips would be rotted. He offered up silver +coins for her funeral, and coppers to be given out at her +burial; a bundle of candles for a forty days’ mass for +her; a yellow candle worth a whole rouble for her coffin; +and the coffin itself,—rounded out, of oak, hollowed out +of one piece. And he blessed her as she was laid out, +slender and just a trifle too tall, within that coffin, with +her hair all let out, in two shroud-shifts. She was in an +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span>under-cassock of white, with a black selvage all around, +and in a black mantle with white crosses on top of it; upon +her little head they put a green little cap of velvet, +broidered with gold; on top of the cap a small skull +cap; and after that they tied a blue shawl with tassels +upon her head, and then they put a leathern rosary into +her dear hands.... Oh, I can’t tell how fine they arrayed +her. And yet, little ones, there is a spiteful rumour +which is of the devil, that she did not want to die,—oh, +how she didn’t want to!</p> + +<p>“Departing in such youth and in such beauty, she took +her farewell of everybody, so they say, with tears, saying +to all, in a loud voice, ‘Forgive me!’ And at the +very last she closed her eyes and said distinctly: ‘And +against thee, Mother-Earth, have I sinned in body and +soul,—wilt thou forgive me?’ And those words are fearful +words: touching their foreheads to the earth, men +uttered them in the prayer for repentance throughout +ancient Russia, before Whitsuntide, before the heathen +day of the water nixies.”</p> + +<p><i>1916.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_GRAMMAR_OF_LOVE"> + THE GRAMMAR OF LOVE + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">A certain</span> Ivlev was once travelling, in the beginning +of June, to a distant region of his provence.</p> + +<p>The <i>tarantass</i>, with its dusty top all awry, had +been given him by his brother-in-law, at whose estate +he was passing the summer. The <i>troika</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_5_6" href="#Footnote_5_6" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> of small but +well-broken horses, with thick matted manes, he had +hired in the village, from a wealthy <i>moujik</i>. They +were driven by a son of that <i>moujik</i>, a lad of eighteen,—a +plodding fellow, a good husbandman. He was all +the time cogitating about something with displeasure, +seemed to be offended at something, could not take a +joke. And, having become convinced that there was no +possibility of getting into talk with him, Ivlev yielded to +that peaceful and aimless observation, which chimes in +so well with the beat of hoofs and the jangling of little +bells.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_5_6" href="#FNanchor_5_6" class="label">[5]</a> Three horses, harnessed abreast. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>The drive was very pleasant at first: the day was +warm, grayish: the road a much travelled one; the +meadowlands were full of flowers and sky-larks; from +the grain-fields, from the dove-coloured fields of rye, +spreading onward as far as the eye could see, a pleasant +little breeze was blowing, bearing flower pollen over +slanting masses of the grain and rye, at times making +this pollen dust swirl like smoke,—and the distance even +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span>seemed misty from it. The lad, in a new cap and a +clumsy jacket made of lustrine, was sitting upright; the +fact that the horses were completely entrusted to him, +and that he was wearing his best clothes, made him +especially serious. As for the horses, they coughed and +ran along without hurrying; the off-horse at times made +the whiffle-tree scrape against the wheel, at others strained +in his harness, and one horse-shoe was constantly flashing +under him with its white steel.</p> + +<p>“Will we stop at the count’s?” asked the lad, without +turning around, when a village came into view ahead +of them, enclosing the horizon with its hedges and garden.</p> + +<p>“What for?” said Ivlev.</p> + +<p>The lad was silent for a time, and having knocked +off with a whip a large gadfly that had stuck to a horse, +answered sombrely:</p> + +<p>“Why, to drink tea....”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t tea you’ve got on your mind,” said Ivlev, +“you’re always trying to save the horses.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t travelling that worries a horse,—it’s food,” +answered the lad with conviction.</p> + +<p>Ivlev looked about him: the weather had turned +bleaker, discoloured clouds had gathered from all sides, +and drops of rain were already falling,—these unassuming +days always wind up with a downpour.... An old +man in spectacles, who was ploughing near the village, +said that only the young countess was at home, but they +drove up never the less. The young fellow pulled a +long coat over his shoulders, and satisfied with the fact +that the horses were resting, was calmly getting soaked +under the rain upon the driver’s seat of the <i>tarantass</i>, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span>which had been drawn up in the middle of the dirty +yard, near a stone trough that had sunk into the ground, +which ground was all trampled over by the hoofs of +cattle. He was inspecting his boots, was adjusting with +his whip-stock the breech-band of the shaft-horse; while +Ivlev sat in the drawing room, which was darkening from +the rain. He was chatting with the countess and awaiting +tea. There was already a smell of shavings burning; +the thick green smoke of the samovar, which a barefooted +wench on the steps was stuffing with bundles of +brightly burning sticks, pouring kerosene over them, +floated past the window. The countess was in a capacious +pink dressing gown, which showed her powdered +bosom; she smoked, inhaling deeply; she patted her hair +frequently, baring her firm and rounded arms to the +shoulders; inhaling the smoke and laughing, she kept +on leading the talk around to love, and, among other +things told him about her near neighbour, the land-owner +Khvoshchinsky, who, as Ivlev had known ever +since childhood, had all his life long been a maniac over +his love for his chambermaid Lushka, who had died in +early youth. “Ah, this legendary Lushka!” Ivlev had +remarked jestingly, slightly confused over his confession. +“Because this queer fellow had made a divinity of her, +had dedicated all his life to insane dreams of her, I, +in my youth, was almost in love with her: I fancied, in +thinking of her, God knows what; although, they do +say, she was not at all good-looking.” “Yes?” said the +countess, without listening. “Why, he died this winter, +you know. And Pisarev,—the only one whose visits he +tolerated, because of their old friendship,—affirms that +in everything else he was not in the least insane, and I believe +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span>it,—he was simply different from the run of the +men of to-day....” Finally the barefooted wench with +unusual carefullness served him with a glass of strong +gray tea out of a teapot, and with a small basket of fly-specked +tea cookies.</p> + +<p>When they started off again, the rain had set in in +earnest. It was necessary to raise the top, to cover up +with the calcined, shrunken apron, to sit all hunched +up. The horses clattered their muffled bells; little +streams ran over their dark and glistening haunches; the +grasses swished succulently under their wheels as they +passed some boundary or other, among the fields of grain, +through which the young fellow had driven in the hope +of shortening the way; the warm rye-scented air gathered +underneath the top, blending with the odour of the old +<i>tarantass</i>.... “So that’s how things are,—Khvoshchinsky +has died,” Ivlev was thinking. “I absolutely must +drive up, just to have a glance at this deserted sanctuary +of the mysterious Lushka.... But what sort of a man +was this Khvoshchinsky? A madman, or simply some sort +of an overwhelmed soul, all centred in one thing?” To +judge by the stories of old land-owners, who were of the +same age as Khvoshchinsky, he had at one time passed +for an extraordinarily clever fellow in this province. +And suddenly there fell upon him this love, this +Lushka; then her unexpected death came,—and everything +went to rack and ruin. He locked himself up in +the house, in that room where Lushka had lived and died, +and had sat there through more than twenty years,—not +only not going out anywhere, but not showing himself +to anybody even on his own estate. He had sat a +hole through and through the mattress on Lushka’s bed, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span>and ascribed literally everything that took place in the +world to Lushka’s influence: if there were a thunderstorm,—it +was Lushka who sent it; if a war were declared,—it +meant that Lushka had so decided; if the harvest +happened to be bad,—the peasants had not succeeded +in pleasing Lushka....</p> + +<p>“You’re driving to Khvoshchinsky’s, aren’t you?” +called out Ivlev, putting his head out in the rain.</p> + +<p>“To Khvoshchinsky’s,” came from the lad, indistinctly +through the noise of the rain; water was running down +from his drooping cap by this time. “Going up Pisarev’s +hill....”</p> + +<p>Ivlev did not know any such road. The settlements +were constantly becoming poorer and farther away from +the world. The boundary came to an end, the horses +were going at a walk, and brought the careening <i>tarantass</i> +through a washed-out hollow to the bottom of a +little hill, into some still unmown meadows, the green +declivities of which stood out mournfully against the +low-lying clouds. Then the road, now disappearing, now +finding itself anew, began to wind in and out, along the +bottoms of gullies, through ravines filled with alder +bushes and branching osiers. They came upon somebody’s +little apiary—several small logs standing upon a +slope, among tall grass with wild strawberries glimmering +red through it.... They made a detour of some old +dam, sunk among nettles, and a pond long since dried +up—a deep hollow, grown over with burdocks taller than +a man in height.... A pair of black snipe with a +mournful cry darted out of them towards the rainy +sky.... But upon the dam, amidst the nettles, an old, +big bush was blossoming out with little pale pink +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span>flowers,—that charming little tree which is called God’s +Own Tree,⁠<a id="FNanchor_6_7" href="#Footnote_6_7" class="fnanchor">[6]</a>⁠—and Ivlev suddenly recalled the localities, +recalled that he had ridden through here more than once +on horseback in his youth, with a gun slung over his +shoulders....</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_6_7" href="#FNanchor_6_7" class="label">[6]</a> Abrotanum; southern wood. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>“They do say that she drowned herself right here,” +said the young fellow unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>“You’re talking about the mistress of Khvoshchinsky, +aren’t you?” asked Ivlev. “That isn’t so; she didn’t +even think of drowning.”</p> + +<p>“No,—she did drown herself,” said the lad, “only, +they think that he went mad from his poverty, most +likely, and not on account of her....”</p> + +<p>And after a silence, he roughly added:</p> + +<p>“Well, we ought to be driving on again.... For this +same Khvoshchinskoë now.... Look at how petered out +them horses be!”</p> + +<p>“Suit yourself,” said Ivlev.</p> + +<p>Upon the hillock whither the road (now lead-coloured +from the rain) led, upon a clearing from which the trees +had been carried away, among the wet, rotting chips +and leaves, among the stumps and young aspen growths, +with their bitter and fresh scent, a solitary hut was +standing. There was never a soul around,—only the +singing green-finches, sitting under the rain upon tall +flowers, rang through the entire thin forest that stretched +upward beyond the hut. But when the <i>troika</i>, +splashing through the mud, had come abreast of its +threshold, a whole pack of huge hounds dashed out from +somewhere,—black, chocolate, and smoke-coloured,—and +with ferocious baying swirled around the horses, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span>jumping up to their very muzzles, turning head over heels +as they ran, and even spinning up to the very top of the +<i>tarantass</i>. At the same time, and just as unexpectedly, +the sky over the <i>tarantass</i> was split by a deafening peal +of thunder, which had not sounded once during the day, +while the young fellow began in a rage to lash the dogs +with his whip, and the horses dashed away at a gallop +among the aspen trunks that began flashing before the +eyes....</p> + +<p>The village of Khvoshchinskoë could already be seen +beyond the forest. The hounds lost ground and at once +grew quiet, trotting back in a business-like manner; the +forest gave way and again fields opened up ahead. Evening +was coming on, and one could not determine now +whether the storm-clouds, on three sides, were dispersing +or encroaching. On the left was one almost black, +with blue openings through which light showed; on the +right, a hoary one, rumbling with ceaseless thunder; while +toward the west, from Khvoshchinsky’s estate, from +beyond the sloping hills over the river valley, was a +turbidly blue one, with dusty streaks of rain through +which could be seen the roseate mountains of clouds +piled in the distance. But the rain was abating about +the <i>tarantass</i>, and Ivlev, standing up, all bespattered with +mud, threw back with pleasure the top, now grown heavy, +and freely breathed in the fragrant dampness of the +field.</p> + +<p>He was looking at the approaching estate, was beholding, +at last, that of which he had heard so much; +but, even as formerly, it seemed to him that Lushka had +lived and died not twenty years ago, but almost in times +immemorial. Looking out over the bottom-land, all +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span>trace of the shallow little river was lost in the lush vegetation, +over which a white king-fisher was soaring. +Further on, on a mound, lay rows of hay, grown dark +from the rain; among them, far apart from one another, +were spread out ancient silvery poplars. The +house, rather a large one and at one time white, with +its wet roof glistening, stood upon an absolutely bare +spot. There was neither garden, nor any outbuildings +around it,—only two pillars of brick in lieu of gates, +and with burdocks growing in the ditches. When the +horses had crossed the little river by a ford and had gone +up the hill, some woman, in a man’s summer overcoat with +its pockets hanging down, was driving a few turkey hens +through the burdocks. The <i>façade</i> of the house was unusually +bleak; it had few windows, and all of them were +small, and set within thick walls. But then, the sombre +front entrances were enormous. From one of them a +young man in the gray blouse of a high-school student, +belted with a broad strap, was looking with wonder at +the arrivals; he was black-haired, with handsome +eyes, and of very pleasing appearance, although his +face was pale, and as spotted with freckles as a bird’s +egg.</p> + +<p>It was necessary to explain the visit in some way. +Having climbed up to the entrance and given his name, +Ivlev said that he wanted to see, and perhaps to buy, +the library that, so the countess had said, had been left +by the deceased. And the young man, flushing deeply +and pulling down his blouse from behind, at once led +him into the house. “So this, then, is the son of the +famous Lushka!” reflected Ivlev, throwing a rapid glance +at everything that met his eyes. He looked back frequently +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span>and said anything that came to mind first, just +so as to have an additional glance at the master of +the house, who appeared too youthful for his years. +The latter answered hurriedly, but monosyllabically; he +was evidently confused both by his bashfulness and his +greed. That he was fearfully glad over the possibility +of selling the books, and that he had conceived the notion +of not parting with them at a cheap price, was apparent +from his very first words, from that awkward hastiness +with which he announced that books such as those in +his possession could not be gotten for any amount of +money. Through the half-dark entry, which was spread +with straw rusty from dampness, he led Ivlev into a +large ante-room.</p> + +<p>“So this is where your father lived?” asked Ivlev, entering +and taking off his hat.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,—here,” the young man hastened to answer. +“That is, of course, not just here ... for they used to +sit in the bedroom most of all ... but, of course, they +came here also....”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,—for he was ill,” said Ivlev.</p> + +<p>The young man flared up.</p> + +<p>“That is, ill in what way?” he said, and manlier notes +sounded in his voice. “That’s all gossip; he was not +at all ailing mentally.... he simply read all the +time, and did not go out anywhere, that is all.... But +no, don’t you take your hat off, please,—it’s very cold +here, for we don’t live in this half of the building....”</p> + +<p>True, it was far chillier in the house than it was out +in the air. In the dismal ante-room, its walls pasted +with newspapers, upon the sill of a window, dismal from +the storm clouds, was standing a quail cage made out +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span>of bast. A little gray bag was hopping over the floor +of its own volition. Bending down, the young man +captured it and put it down on a bench, and Ivlev understood +that there was a quail imprisoned in the little +bag. They next entered the parlour. This room, with +its windows toward the west and toward the north, took +up almost half the entire house. Through one window, +against the gold of the evening glow that showed through +the clearing clouds, could be seen a century-old weeping +birch tree, all black; through the remaining window, a +tall, withering acacia tree. The front corner was taken +up by a shrine without glass, with images standing and +hanging within it; among them stood out, both by its +great size and its antiquity, one trimmed with silver, +and upon this image, their wax gleaming yellow like +dead flesh, were lying wedding candles tied with pale-green +bows.</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, please,” Ivlev was about to ask, overcoming +his scruples, “but, did your father really....”</p> + +<p>“No, that’s just so,” mumbled the young man, instantly +grasping his meaning. “He bought these candles after +her death already.... And he even wore a wedding +ring all the time.”</p> + +<p>The furniture in this parlour was crude. But then, in +the spaces between the windows stood exquisite what-nots, +crowded from top to bottom with porcelain knick-knacks, +crystal, tea china, and goblets rimmed with gold. +As for the floor, it was entirely strewn over with dead +bees, that crackled under foot. The empty parlour, as +well, was strewed with the bees. Having traversed it, +and also some other sombre room with a sleeping ledge +built against the side of a stove, the young man came +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span>to a stop before a low little door and took a big key +out of his trousers’-pocket. Having turned it with difficulty +in the rusty key-hole, he threw open the door, +mumbling something,—and Ivlev saw a cubby-hole with +two windows: against one wall stood a bare iron cot +without any bedding; against another—two little bookcases +of bird’s-eye birch.</p> + +<p>“So this is the library?” asked Ivlev, walking up to +one of these.</p> + +<p>And the young man, having hastened to answer in the +affirmative, helped him to open the little book-case, and +began to follow his hands covetously.</p> + +<p>The strangest of books did this library consist of! +Ivlev would open the thick bindings, would turn over +a rough, gray page, and would read: <i>The Forbidden +Ground</i>.... <i>The Morning Star and Fight Dæmons</i>.... +<i>Reflections on the Mysteries of Creation</i>.... <i>A Marvellous +Journey into a Magick Region</i>.... <i>The Latest +Dream Book</i>.... And yet his hands would persist in +trembling slightly. So this was what that lonely soul, +which had secluded itself forever from the world in this +little room and had but lately quitted it, had nurtured itself +upon? ... But perhaps this soul had not really +been insane, after all?</p> + +<p>“‘There is a state....’” The lines of Baratynsky +came into Ivlev’s mind:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">There is a state,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">But what name shall it be given?</div> + <div class="verse indent0">’Tis neither dream nor waking, wavering twixt both;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And comprehending it within him, man</div> + <div class="verse indent0">To frenzy’s verge is driven....</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span></p> + +<p>It had cleared up in the west; gold was peeping out +from behind the beautiful lavender-coloured clouds and +strangely illumined this humble sanctuary of love,—a +love beyond understanding, which had transformed into +some ecstatic existence a whole life that perhaps was +destined to be a most commonplace one had there not +happened to be a certain Lushka, mysterious in her enchantment....</p> + +<p>Taking a little foot-stool from under the cot, Ivlev +sat down before the cabinet and took out his cigarettes, +imperceptibly scrutinizing and memorizing the +room.</p> + +<p>“Do you smoke?” he asked the young man who was +bending over him.</p> + +<p>The latter again blushed. “I do,” he mumbled, and +tried to smile. “That is, I don’t exactly smoke,—rather, +I try to jolly myself.... But, however, if I may,—very +much obliged to you....”</p> + +<p>And, having clumsily taken a cigarette, he lit it with +his hands trembling, walked over to the window-sill and +sat down upon it, barring out the yellow light of the +evening glow.</p> + +<p>“And what is this?” asked Ivlev, bending down to the +third shelf, upon which lay only a single volume, very +small, resembling a prayer-book, and where also stood a +casket whose corners were trimmed with silver, grown +black with time.</p> + +<p>“That’s just ... the necklace of my late mother,” +answered the young man, after a confused hesitation, but +trying to speak negligently.</p> + +<p>“May I have a look?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span></p> + +<p>“If you please ... although it really is very simple ... it +won’t interest you....”</p> + +<p>And opening the casket, Ivlev saw a much worn bit +of cord, a string of very cheap little round blue globules, +resembling stone ones. And such emotion possessed him +upon glancing at these globules, which had at one time +lain upon the neck of her whose lot it was to be so beloved, +and whose dim image could no longer be anything +but beautiful, that his eyes grew dim from the beating +of his heart.... Having looked his fill, Ivlev carefully +put the casket back in its place; he then took up the +little book. This was a tiny, beautifully made <i>Grammar +of Love, or the Art of Loving and of Being Loved in +Return</i>, published almost a hundred years ago.</p> + +<p>“This book, to my regret, I cannot sell,” said the young +man with difficulty. “It’s very valuable.... He even +put it under his pillow.”</p> + +<p>“But perhaps you will let me have just a look at +it?” said Ivlev.</p> + +<p>“If you please,” said the young man in a whisper.</p> + +<p>And, overcoming his compunctions, vaguely oppressed +by the young man’s gaze, Ivlev began slowly turning the +leaves of <i>The Grammar of Love</i>. It was all divided into +short chapters: <i>Of Beauty</i>, <i>Of the Heart</i>, <i>Of the Mind</i>, +<i>Of Deportment</i>, <i>Of Love’s Signs</i>, <i>Of Attack and Defense</i>, +<i>Of Falling Out and Reconciliation</i>, <i>Of Platonic Love</i>.... +Each chapter consisted of very brief, elegant, at times +very subtle, sentences, and some of them were very +lightly marked by a pen in red ink. “Love is not a +mere episode in our Life,” Ivlev read. “Our Reason +contradicts the Heart and doth not convince the latter.” +“Women are never so strong as when they arm themselves +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span>with Weakness.” “We adore Woman because she +holds sovereign sway over our Ideal Dream.” “Vanity +chooses; True Love,—never.” “A Woman of Beauty +must take second place; the first belongs to the Woman +of Charm. It is the latter that becomes the Sovereign +of our Heart: before we have rendered our Heart an account +of Her, our Heart becomes a Captive to Love for +Eternity....” Then followed <i>An Explanation of the +Language of Flowers</i>, and again here and there were +marked passages:</p> + +<blockquote> + <i>Wild Poppy</i>—Sadness.<br> + <i>Priest’s Cap</i>—Thy alluring beauty is imprinted on my heart.<br> + <i>Periwinkle</i>—Sweet Remembrances.<br> + <i>The Mournful Geranium</i>—Melancholy.<br> + <i>Worm-wood</i>—Eternal Bitterness. +</blockquote> + +<p>While upon a blank page at the very end, in tiny, bead-like +characters, was a stanza of eight lines, written in +the same ink. The young man stretched out his neck +as he peeped into <i>The Grammar of Love</i>, and said with +a forced smile:</p> + +<p>“He wrote that himself.”</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, Ivlev bade him good-bye with +relief. Out of all the books he had bought only this +small volume at a high price. The turbidly-golden evening +glow was fading in the clouds beyond the fields, +yellowly reflected in the puddles; the fields were wet +and green. The lad was not in any hurry, but Ivlev +did not spur him on. The young fellow was saying that +that woman who had been driving the turkey hens +through the burdocks before was the deacon’s wife; that +young Khvoshchinsky has been living with her for a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span>long time now, that he already has children. Ivlev was +not listening. He was constantly thinking of Lushka; +of her necklace, which had left a complex feeling within +him, resembling that which he had once experienced in +a little Italian town upon beholding the relics of a female +saint. “She has come into my life forever!” he +reflected. And, taking <i>The Grammar of Love</i> out of +his pocket, he slowly read over, by the light of the evening +glow, the verses written upon its last page:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">We were assigned a thorny wreath</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In this world, where all evils be;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The love I bore was unto death,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">It died with me.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">But—“Live thou in legends of Love’s bliss!”</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Shall greet it hearts that with Love strove;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And to their grandchildren shall show this</div> + <div class="verse indent0"><i>Grammar of Love</i>.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p><i>1915.</i></p> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="A_NIGHT_CONVERSATION"> + A NIGHT CONVERSATION + </h2> +</div> + + +<h3 id="I">I</h3> + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> sky had been silvery with stars all night long, +the fields beyond the garden and the threshing +floor was darkling evenly, and the wind-mill, with +the two horns of its wings, showed sharply black against +the clear horizon. But the stars gave out sparks, trembling, +frequently cutting the sky with narrow green +streaks; the garden was fitfully murmurous, and already +chill autumn could be heard in its murmurings. From +the direction of the mill, from the sloping plain, from the +desolated stubble-field, a strong wind was blowing.</p> + +<p>The farm hands had sated themselves at supper,—it +was the holiday of the Assumption of the Holy Virgin,—and +had avidly smoked their fill on their way through +the garden to the threshing barn. Having thrown on +their long great coats, tight at the waist, and falling in +folds over their short sheepskin coats, they were going +there to sleep, to guard the heaps of grain. Following +behind the farm hands, dragging a pillow, walked the +master’s son, a tall high-school student, with three white +<i>borzoi</i> hounds running at his heels. Upon the threshing +floor, in the fresh wind, there was a pleasant smell of +chaff, of new rye straw. They all lay down comfortably +in it, in the very biggest stack of all, as near as possible +to the piles of grain and the corn kiln. The dogs fussed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span>about, rustled for a while at the feet of the workers, and +also quieted down.</p> + +<p>Over the heads of the recumbent men the broad Milky +Way, dividing into two smokily-translucent branches, +glimmered whitely and faintly, filled with the fine star +dust suspended within them. It was quiet and warm in +the straw. But a north-east wind, again and again, ran +disquietingly through the brushwood that was darkling +along the ditch to the left, with its rampart of earth; +and increasing, it neared with an inimical noise. Then +a cool breath would reach the face, the hands, together +with a bad odour from the lanes between the heaps of +grain. And over the horizon, beyond the irregular black +blotches of the brushwood, icy diamonds vividly flared +up; the Capella was bursting into vari-coloured fires.</p> + +<p>Having settled down, they all shut their eyes, after a +yawning spell. The wind was dreamily rustling the +prickling straws that stuck out above their heads. But +its coolness reached their faces, and they all felt that +they did not want to sleep as yet,—they had slept their +fill after dinner. The high-school student alone was +languishing from a sweet longing for sleep. But the +fleas would not let him sleep. He started scratching, let +his thoughts run on wenches, on the widow through whom +he, with the help of the farm hand Pashka, had lost his +innocence that very summer, and he also became broad +awake.</p> + +<p>This student was a thin, awkward stripling with an unusually +soft colouring—his face was so white that even +sunburn had no effect upon it; he was blue-eyed, with +outrageously big hands and feet, with a big Adam’s-apple. +He had not parted company with the farm hands +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span>all summer,—at first he had carted manure, then the +sheaves; he put in order the piles of grain, he smoked an +atrocious cheap tobacco, he imitated the <i>moujiks</i> in +speech and in his roughness with wenches, who always +started laughing at him in chorus, greeting him with catcalls +and cries of “Veretenkin! Veretenkin!”⁠<a id="FNanchor_7_8" href="#Footnote_7_8" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>⁠—a stupid +nickname invented by Ivan, who was a helper at the +threshing machine. He passed his nights now at the +threshing floor, now in the horse stable; he did not change +his linen and his canvas clothes for weeks at a time, nor +would he take off his tarred boots; he raised blood-blisters +on his feet, unaccustomed to coarse foot-cloths; he lost all +the buttons on his summer uniform overcoat, which had +been soiled by wheels and manure, had broken the letters +and the little silver leaves on his uniform cap.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_7_8" href="#FNanchor_7_8" class="label">[7]</a> “Spindle-Shanks! Spindle-Shanks!” <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>“He has broken away from the house entirely!” his +mother would say of him, with a caressing, kindly regret, +enraptured even by his defects. “Of course, he’ll pick +up, become stronger,—but just look what a matted choate +he is,—he doesn’t even wash his neck!” she would say, +smiling to her guests and pulling his soft, chestnut locks, +trying to get at the soft little spiral, curling like a girl’s, +at the nape of his neck,—dark, contrasting with the +childishly white flesh visible under the blouse that buttoned +at the side, contrasting with the large vertebræ +under the fine, smooth skin. But he would sulkily turn +his head away from under her caressing hand, frowning +and blushing. He grew not by the day but by the hour, +and as he walked he stooped, whistling meditatively, angularly +lumbering from side to side. He still ate linden +blossoms and the gum of cherry trees; he carried, although +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span>by now secretly, a sling shot to shoot sparrows +with, but he would have been consumed with shame had +this been revealed, and he constantly kept his hands in his +pockets. Only last winter he had played Redskins with +his little sister Lily. But in the spring, when through all +the streets of the town streams were running and shimmering +with a blinding dazzle; when the white window-sills +in the class-rooms were aflame with the sun; when +the teacher’s room was shot through and through with the +sun, and the principal’s cat was lying in ambush for the +first finches in the high-school garden, still filled with silvery +snow,—in the spring he had gotten the notion that +he had fallen in love with the slender little Youshkova, a +bookish, serious-minded high-school girl; he had struck +up a close friendship with Simashko, a spectacled six-termer, +and had determined to dedicate his entire summer +vacation to self-culture. But in the summer his dreams +about self-culture were already forgotten; a new resolve +was taken,—to study the common people; which resolve +had soon passed into a passionate infatuation with the +<i>moujiks</i>.</p> + +<p>On the evening before the Assumption, the high-school +boy was heavy with sleep while still at supper. Toward +the end of every day, when his head would grow heavy +and fall down on his chest,—from fatigue, from talking +with the farm hands, from his rôle of a grown-up,—his +boyishness returned: he wanted to play a bit with +Lily, to have a brief reverie, before falling asleep, of +some distant and unknown lands, of extraordinary manifestations +of passion and self-sacrifice, of the lives of +Livingston and Baker, and not of the <i>moujiks</i> written +about by Naumov and Nephedov, whom he had given his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span>word of honour to Simashko to read; he wanted to sleep, +for at least one night, at home, instead of getting up +before the sun, in the cold morning light, when even dogs +yawn and stretch so languorously.... But the maid +entered, saying that the farm hands had already gone +to the threshing floor. Without listening to his mother’s +calls, the high-school lad threw his uniform overcoat with +its bobbing belt over his shoulders, and put on his cap; +grabbing the pillow out of the maid’s hands, he caught +up with the farm hands in the lane. He staggered from +drowsiness as he walked, dragging the pillow by a corner, +and, as soon as he had stumbled up to the heap of +straw and had crawled under an old raccoon overcoat +lying there, he sailed off into some sweet, black darkness. +But the tiny dog-fleas began to burn him as with +fire; the farm hands began talking among themselves....</p> + +<p>There were five of them: Khomut,⁠<a id="FNanchor_8_9" href="#Footnote_8_9" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> a kindly, shaggy +old man; Kiriushka, a lame, white-eyed, irresponsible lad, +who gave himself up to a childish vice, which fact everybody +knew and which made Kiriushka still more irresponsible, +making him bear in silence all sorts of jeers +about his short leg, twisted at the knee; Pashka, a good-looking +<i>moujik</i> of twenty-four and recently married; +Theodot, an elderly <i>moujik</i>, from another region, somewhere +near Liebedyana, nick-named Postnii;⁠<a id="FNanchor_9_10" href="#Footnote_9_10" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> and Ivan,—a +very stupid fellow, but one who deemed himself an +amazingly clever, cunning, and mercilessly-scoffing man. +This last held in contempt all work, save work with agricultural +machines; he wore a blue blouse and had impressed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span>everybody with the idea that he was a born machinist, +although everybody knew that he did not know a +blamed thing about the construction of even a simple +winnowing machine. He was always narrowing his +morosely-ironic little eyes and pursing up his thin lips, +never letting a pipe out of his teeth. He generally kept a +portentous silence; but whenever he did speak, it was +only to annihilate somebody or something with a comment +or a nick-name. He scoffed at absolutely everything: +at sense and folly, at simplicity and slyness, at +despondency and laughter; at God and his own mother, +at the gentry and the <i>moujiks</i>. The nick-names he bestowed +were absurd and incomprehensible, but he uttered +them with such an enigmatic air that it seemed to everybody +that they had both a meaning and a caustic aptness. +He had not spared even himself, and had given +himself a nick-name: “Rogojkin,”⁠<a id="FNanchor_10_11" href="#Footnote_10_11" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> he had said once in +reference to himself, hinting at something so weightily, +so maliciously, that everybody rolled from laughter, and +afterwards he was never known as anything but Rogojkin. +He had christened the high-school student as well, had +said something nonsensical about him as well: “Veretenkin.”</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_8_9" href="#FNanchor_8_9" class="label">[8]</a> “Horse-collar.” <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_9_10" href="#FNanchor_9_10" class="label">[9]</a> “Lenten.” <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_10_11" href="#FNanchor_10_11" class="label">[10]</a> “Made out of matting.” <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>The school-boy,—so he thought,—had come to know +these people well during the summer, had become +attached to all of them in different ways,—even to Ivan, +who unmercifully made fun of him. He was learning one +thing or another from them, was adapting their pronunciation,—absolutely, +as it proved, unlike the speech of the +<i>moujiks</i> in books; adopting their unexpected, absurd, +but unshakable conclusions, the uniformity of their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span>ready wisdom, their coarseness and indifference, their +capacity for work and their dislike of it. And, had he +gone to the city after the vacation, without reverting to +his infatuation for the life of the <i>moujiks</i> during the next +summer, he would all his life have thought that he had +observed the common people of Russia very well,—if, by +accident, a lengthy, frank conversation had not sprung up +among the farm hands on this night.</p> + +<p>It was started by the old man who was lying alongside +of the school-boy and who was scratching more than +anybody else.</p> + +<p>“Pestering the life out of you, young master, hey? +They’re nothing but a misery, Khomut!” said he,—the +word “Khomut” he used to characterize not only his entire +existence, but also all its weariness, all its unpleasantness.</p> + +<p>“Can’t stand it,” replied the school-boy. “The women +and wenches now, the devil take them, they won’t touch. +But who would you think they ought to be biting if not +them?”</p> + +<p>“Main thing is, whether a body wear drawers or no, it +makes no difference to them fleas,” indifferently agreed +the old man, giving off, as he tossed about, a strong +odour,—of a body long unwashed, and of a worn peasant’s +coat that had become permeated with the smoke of +a chimneyless hut.</p> + +<p>The others kept silence. Usually, they were jocose before +falling asleep, questioning Pashka about his conjugal +life, while he answered them with such unperturbed +and gay shamelessness that even the school-boy, who was +constantly entranced by him, never taking his eyes off his +intelligent and animated face, was vexed over any one’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span>being able to speak so of one’s own young wife. Now no +one seemed about to begin questioning, and the student +wanted to do so himself, in order to excite his imagination, +forever empoisoned by the widow, and to hear +the self-assured voice of Pashka,—when the latter +stretched himself, sat up, and began rolling a crude +cigarette. The old man raised up his head, covered with +a cap, and shook it.</p> + +<p>“Eh, but you’ll burn this place down some day, young +fellow!” said he. “Watch out. It don’t take much to +bring on trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll get out of it by blamin’ the young master,” +answered Pashka, a trifle hoarse from a cold; and, having +cleared his throat, he started laughing. “He’s smoking +all the time himself. Wonderful night to-night, young +master,” said he, changing his tone to a serious +one and turning around to the school-boy. “What’s the +only thing lacking on this night, you might say? Why, +the moon.”</p> + +<p>They all felt that he wanted to tell something. And, +truly, having kept silent for a while, without eliciting any +reply, he suddenly added:</p> + +<p>“Are you asleep, young master? What hour might +it be now?”</p> + +<p>The school-boy raised himself up, pulled his silver +watch out of his trousers’-pocket, and began inspecting it +by the light of the stars.</p> + +<p>“Half-past ten,” said he, bending over.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, I just knew it was that,” concurred Pashka, +gaily and self-assuredly, lighting his cigarette, which +was rolled somewhat in the form of a pipe; it was gripped +in one corner of his mouth between his teeth, and he lit +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span>it with a stinking sulphur match flaming within his +cupped hands. “Just exactly at this time last year I +killed a man.”</p> + +<p>And the school-boy at once straightened up, letting his +hands drop,—and he seemed to be turned to stone during +all the time that the others talked. At rare intervals he +would put in a word, but it was as though it were not he, +but some other who was talking in his stead. Then +everything within him began to shiver in an icy ague fit +inducive of senseless laughter, and his face began to burn, +as though it were aflame.</p> + + +<h3 id="II"> + II +</h3> + +<p>Ivan, as always, maintained a portentous silence. +Kiriushka was not at all interested in whatever they +were talking about; he lay thinking his own thoughts,—mostly +about an accordeon, the purchase of which was +his most cherished dream. Theodot, too, who lay leaning +upon his elbow, was silent for a long while. He was a +strong, flat-chested <i>moujik</i>, who at the beginning of the +summer had not been considered by the farm hands as +one of them, because he wore a short sheepskin coat, without +a waistline and without folds in its skirts,—which +was the kind worn by the Tartars of Kazan. He had +seemed a stranger to the school-boy as well. Just as he +liked the cheerful composure of Pashka, the smoothness +of his mannerisms, his sun-burned face, so he was not +disposed to intimacy by the face of Theodot, also calm +but devoid of any expression, large, ashen-gray, wrinkled, +with sparse moustaches, always wet from the slavering +caused by his pipe; his whitish, weather-beaten lips were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span>turned considerably outward. Theodot was listening attentively, +but did not put in a single word during +Pashka’s narrative,—only now and then he would give a +consumptive cough and spit into the straw. And at first +the conversation was sustained only by the dumbfounded +school-boy and the old man.</p> + +<p>“What are you lyin’ about nothin’ at all for?” said the +old man indifferently, upon hearing the boastful declaration +of Pashka. “What sort of a man could you +have killed? Where?”</p> + +<p>“Bust my eyes if I’m lyin’!” responded Pashka warmly, +turning in the old man’s direction. “Last year, on Assumption. +Not only was it wrote up in all the papers,—it +was even in the order sent to the regiment.”</p> + +<p>“Well, where was it you killed him?”</p> + +<p>“Why, in the Caucasus, in the Zukhdens. Honest to +God! Of course, I ain’t agoin’ to lie about it; I didn’t +do it all single-handed,—Koslov also fired a shot; he’s +also one of ours, from the Eletzkaya province. I wasn’t +the only one that got the thanks for it; the division commander +thanked him too, in front of all the men lined +up, and rewarded us with a rouble each, right off; but +then, I know without any mistake that it was me that +winged him.”</p> + +<p>“What him?” asked the high-school student.</p> + +<p>“Why, a convict; this Cheorchian, now.”</p> + +<p>“Hold on,” the old man interrupted him. “You just +tell the whole thing sensibly. Where was you stationed?”</p> + +<p>“There he goes again!” said Pashka with assumed +vexation. “There’s a queer fellow,—won’t believe +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span>nothing. We was stationed at these New Ceniyaks, +now....”</p> + +<p>“I know the place,” said the old man. “We, too, was +stationed there for eighteen days.”</p> + +<p>“There, you see now,—that means I ain’t just making it +up as I go along, for I can tell you how this happened, +just about. We wasn’t stationed for no eighteen days +then, brother, but for a whole year and seven months; as +for these here convicts, we was in duty bound to escort +them up to the very Zukhdens. These here convicts, +now, was the most important criminals what could +possibly be,—rebels, they was. So then, ten of them in +all was caught in the mountains and put in our keeping....”</p> + +<p>“Hold on,” interrupted the high-school student, imitating +the old man, and feeling his hands turning to ice; +“but how was it you told me that you’d never get to shooting +any rebels,—that you’d liefer shoot any officer who +might order you to fire at them?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I wouldn’t let my own father off, when need +be,” answered Pashka, throwing a furtive glance at the +student, and again turning to the old man. “Maybe I’d +never have laid a finger on him, even, if he hadn’t taken it +into his head to ruin us all; but no, he went in for foxiness +and we might all have been sentenced to hard labour +for a whole year. But as it turned out, it was all for the +best; we got thanks and turned out to be a bit smarter +than him. Just you listen, now,” he said, pretending that +he was addressing the old man only. “We was leading +them along, all fair and square. We didn’t have any of +these carryings on, like beating them, now, for example, or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span>urging them on with the butt-end of a gun.... But one +of them,—a sort of a skinny fellow, short of stature,—was +walking along and complaining about his stomach +all the time, asking us all the while to let him do something.... +He just barely managed to tinkle along in his +leg-irons. Then, at last, he approaches the superior officer: +‘Let me lie down in the cart.’ Well, he was +allowed to do so, like he was real sick. Only by now we +come to the Zukhdens. And the night’s as black as +pitch, and it’s raining cats and dogs. We made ’em sit +down on the front entrance, and watched ’em; each one of +the soldiers had a little lantern in his hands, of course, +while the superior officer went off into the room, to try +the bars at the windows to see if they was all right, now, +and hadn’t been filed away by some hidden file.”</p> + +<p>“Absolutely,” said the old man. “According to law +he’s got to take over everything in good shape.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I’m talkin’ about,” confirmed +Pashka, again hastily hiding a lit sulphur match in his +cupped hands. “You know all this business, now, and +that makes it interestin’ to be telling you about it. Well, +the superior officer had gone off,” he went on, squeezing +out the match and letting the smoke out of his nostrils, +“he’d gone off, inspecting things, while we stand around, +nodding our heads,—we wanted to sleep something dreadful,—when +this here Cheorchian suddenly jumps up, and +off ’round the corner with him! That means, you understand, +that he had all this business figured out, while he +was still in the cart; he had cut the strap around his legs +that held the shackles, with the first thing that had come +to his hand; had loosened them upon him, then picked +’em up in his hand, so,—” Pashka bent over and, spreading +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span>his legs, demonstrated how the prisoner had grabbed +up the shackles, “and then had taken to his heels! But +me and Koslov was no fools; we dropped our lanterns +and took after him: Koslov ran around the corner too, +whilst I went straight ahead to cut him off. I keep on +running, but all the time I’m trying to catch the clink,—where +his chains might be clanking, that is. It ain’t +even worthwhile to be shootin’ at haphazard, thinks I. +At last, I catch the sound,—and bang! I feel it go past +him. I fire another shot,—again I hear it go by him. +But Koslov is popping away right and left; like as not to +get me any minute.... Then I got riled: ‘Ah,’ thinks +I, ‘may your eyes bust out!’ I put the gun to my +shoulder and I let’er go: glory be to the Lord, I got him,—I +hear by the sound that he must have fallen down. I let +out two more shots toward the same spot, and ran; and +there he was sitting on his bottom on the ground. He’s +sitting down, propped up with his hands in the dirt; his +teeth are bared, and he’s rattlin’: ‘Quick,’ says he, +‘quick, Russ, stick your bayonet into me right here....’ +Meaning his chest, that is. I charged with my bayonet +on a run,—straight through his heart.... Why, the bayonet +went right out at his back!”</p> + +<p>“Good work!” said the old man. “Let’s have just one +good puff.... Well, and where was Koslov at now?”</p> + +<p>Pashka inhaled some smoke, deeply and quickly, and +thrust the fag-end into the old man’s hand.</p> + +<p>“Why, Koslov,” he answered, hurriedly and gaily, +flattered by the praise, “why, Koslov is running, yelling +with all his might: ‘Did you do for him?’ ‘I’ve done +for him,’ says I, ‘let’s drag the carcass away....’ We +took him by the shackles at once and dragged him back, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span>to the porch.... I cut him down like a weed,” said he, +changing his tone to a calmer and more self-satisfied one.</p> + +<p>The old man cogitated for a while.</p> + +<p>“And you say the officer rewarded you with a rouble +each?”</p> + +<p>“That’s straight,” answered Pashka. “He gave it to us +right out of his own hands, with all the battalion lined +up on parade.”</p> + +<p>The old man, shaking his cap-covered head, spat into +his palm and extinguished the cigarette end in the spittle.</p> + +<p>Ivan, leisurely, through his teeth, drawled out:</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s plain to be seen there’s lots of fools among +the soldiers too.”</p> + +<p>“How do you make that out?”</p> + +<p>“Why, here’s how,” said Ivan, “you durn fool! What +should you have done? You oughtn’t to have dragged +him, but should have sent your mate with a report, and +stood guard with a gun over the dead body. D’you +understand now, or don’t you?”</p> + + +<h3 id="III"> + III +</h3> + +<p>Theodot began speaking even more plainly, after a general +silence and a muttering of: “Ye-es ... well +done....”</p> + +<p>“Well, now,” he began slowly, lying back on his elbow +and casting an occasional glance at the dark figure of the +student, motionlessly stuck before him against the background +of the starry sky; “well, now, I sinned absolutely +over nothing. I killed a man over a mere trifle, you +might say; all on account of a she-goat I had.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span></p> + +<p>“What do you mean,—over a she-goat?” the old man, +Pashka, and the school-boy interrupted him in unison.</p> + +<p>“Honest to God, that’s the truth,” answered Theodot. +“But you just listen a while to what sort of bane this +she-goat was....”</p> + +<p>The old man and Pashka again lighted cigarettes and +began to stamp down the straw, in preparation to listening. +The student, too, wanted to light up, but his icy +hands would not stir, would not come out of his pockets. +As for Theodot, he continued seriously and calmly:</p> + +<p>“The whole trouble was just on account of her. I +didn’t do the murder on purpose, of course.... He was +the first to beat me up.... And there was quarrelling, +going to court.... He came, drunk, whilst I jumped +out, all heated up, and hit him with a whet-stone.... +But what’s the sense of talkin’ about it; as it was, I done +penance for half a year at a monastery on account of +him; but if there hadn’t been this here she-goat, nothing +at all would have happened. Main thing was, none of +us had ever kept these here goats; they ain’t in the +<i>moujik’s</i> line, and we can’t understand the handling of +them; and then, to top it all, the goat turned out to be +a bad one, and frisky. What carrion she was,—the Lord +save me from such another! Just the same as a little +<i>borzoi</i> bitch, she was. Maybe I wouldn’t have wanted +to get her,—everybody was laughing, talking me out +of it as it was; but I was downright forced to it by +need. We ain’t got any large, well-managed farms, nor +any sort of free land or forests.... We ain’t had a +common pasture land, of our own from time out of mind, +and as to what small live-stock we might have, it simply +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span>has to find forage on the waste-lands. As for large +cattle,—we used to put the cows into the big owner’s +grounds, and for all that sort of thing us little fellers +was supposed to mow, and bind in sheaves, two acres of +grain, and plough two acres of fallow-land; and put in +three days with the old woman at mowing, and three +days at threshing.... Count it up,—and what don’t it +come to?”</p> + +<p>“The Lord deliver us!” the old man supported him +sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“Whereas to buy a she-goat,” Theodot went on, “well, +that meant scraping off seven, or say eight, roubles to +give away for her; on the other hand, if she tried hard, +she’d yield four bottles, no less, of milk, and the milk +she’d give was thicker and sweeter nor cow milk. The +hard part about her was, of course, that you couldn’t +keep her together with the sheep; a she-goat fights with +them a lot, when she’s carrying a kid, and once she starts +in she gets fiercer’n a dog,—just can’t bear to look at +them. And what a creature she was for climbing,—it +didn’t mean nothin’ to her to get up on top of a hut, +or a clump of willows. Wherever there was a willow, she +was dead sure to strip it bare, would strip off all its +tender bark—there was nothing she liked better’n that!”</p> + +<p>“But you wanted to tell us how you killed a man,” the +school-boy uttered with difficulty, looking all the while +at Pashka, at Pashka’s face, indistinct in the light of +the stars; he was incredulous that this very Pashka was +a murderer, and he was picturing to himself a small, +dead Georgian, whom two soldiers were dragging along +by his chains, through the mud, surrounded by a dark +rainy night.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, and what else was I talking about?” answered +Theodot, somewhat rudely, and began speaking a trifle +livelier. “You can’t understand this business, you ain’t +tried yet to live on your own; but to live at home with +mamma is a thing any one can do. That’s just what I +was talking about,—that a sin like that came about +through just nothing at all. I slaughtered three sheep all +on account of her,” said he, addressing the old man. “I +took in nine and a half for the sheep, and paid eight +for her. She didn’t cost me cheap, at that.... And for +another thing, I started having rows with my old woman +almost every day. Well, as I was saying, I got a triflin’ +sum, gave away eight for the she-goat; then, too, I +bought a thing or two for the household, a matter here +and there, got some little whistles for the youngsters, +and started off for home. I pegged along and pegged +along, and came home toward morning. I look,—and I +am shy a half; that meant that I must have shoved it +in my pocket and sown it as I went. The old woman +started counting the money. ‘Where,’ says she, ‘is the +half? Did you swallow it? I told you, you fool, to +sell the sheep as carcasses, and to keep the skins for yourself....’ +One word led to another, and then a row +began,—may the Lord save me from such another! My +old woman, to tell the truth, is such a dog as you’d have +to look through all the county to find the like of....”</p> + +<p>“That goes without saying,” Pashka put it in a business-like +manner. “The more you beat ’em, the better +they be.”</p> + +<p>“That’s understood,” said Theodot. “Well, she came +to her senses and gave in. And when she had milked +the she-goat, she became downright glad: the goat turned +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span>out to be a good milker, and the milk was fine. So we +started in rejoicing. We drove it into the flock. I gave +the little shepherd boys something for tobacco, treated +them to a cup of vodka each.... Otherwise they would +train her to butt the sheep in the belly, the sons of +bitches.... Only when the flock comes back at evening,—I +look, and my goat ain’t there. I ask the shepherd: +‘How is it our she-goat ain’t here?’ ‘Why,’ says +he, ‘we drove the herd to the waste-land near the woods; +your goat started playing with the cows, and tackled +the bull; she’d back away from him, get one good running +start, and then let herself fly straight between his eyes! +He got so petered out on account of her that he began +hiding from her behind the cows, and when we’d go for +her to chase her off, she’d scoot into the oats.... She +just knocked us off our feet! And then she ran away: +the helper ran after her; he ran all through the forest, +couldn’t find her nowhere,—just like she’d fallen through +the earth....’”</p> + +<p>“Well, right you were ’bout that goat being poison!” +remarked the old man.</p> + +<p>“A-a!” said Theodot, malignantly. “Why this ain’t +nothin’ at all,—you just listen to what’s coming! When +this same she-goat had disappeared, me and the old +woman plumb lost our heads. Well, now, thinks we, it’s +bye-bye; there goes our good money; she sure will make a +mouthful for some wolf. But, of course, we don’t reckon +at all on the fact that it would be far better if she was +to go to all the devils. Soon as day came we ran for +the forest; we left nary a likely place untouched, I don’t +think; we beat up the entire forest to the last twig,—she +wasn’t nowheres, and that’s all there was to it! +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span>Gawd knows how I grieved; however I went to ploughing,—it +was just ploughing time then. I took a bit of +bread with me, wrapped up in a kerchief, laying it down +near the edge of the field where I was working. Now, +on another mound, there was one of our village lads +ploughing,—suddenly, I hear him shouting something, +pointing with his hand. I look around and just gasp: +there was the she-goat! She had dragged out the little +bundle, seizing it in her teeth; she had shaken it loose +and was standing, jerking her beard, and eating the +bread.... I dropped my plough as fast as I could and +went for her. I go after her, and she goes away from +me. I go after her, and she goes away from me,—she’d +run a little ways, and stop, and munch the bread,—a +lot she cared! And such a happy and a clever carcass +she was,—she watched every move I made. I had my +heart set on her, I sure wanted to catch her. I just +could have smashed her to bits, it seems! She gobbled +down the bread and went off; she’d turn around and +give me a look, shaking her tail,—well, just making fun +of me!”</p> + +<p>“No use talking,—it’s a carefree creature!” said the +old man.</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I’m saying!” exclaimed Theodot, encouraged +by the sympathy. “That’s just what I’m talking +about,—that she downright ruined us! There hadn’t +even a week passed, when everybody had it in for me: +‘Your goat,’ says they, ‘as good as lives amongst our +grain.’ She trampled down a whole eighth of an acre of +my own, tearing down all the ears of oats. Then one +day a thunder-storm came up; the lightning started in +flashing, and the rain poured down,—I looked and I see +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span>my white she-goat sailing along with all her might +straight toward our place, bleating like she was scared +out of her own voice—and then she pops straight into our +doorway. I started off as fast as my legs would carry me +after her; I got her into a tight corner, drew a cord that +I used for a belt over her horns, and began letting her +have it.... The thunder rumbles, the lightning flashes, +but I keep on lambasting her, I keep on lambasting her! +I must have beat her for more than an hour, without +lying. Then I put her up on the brewing vat, tied her +up with the rope girdle ... but who knows whether the +girdle was rotted, or whether it was something else,—only +when we look in the morning, the goat’s gone again! +Then—would you believe it?—I was so vexed, that I +just burst into tears!”</p> + + +<h3 id="IV"> + IV +</h3> + +<p>Theodot’s tone had become so simple, so sincere, so +filled with the tones of husbandry aggrieved, that it +would never have entered anybody’s head that here was +a murderer, confessing his sin. Then, too, he was +listened to in a spirit of simplicity. Kiriushka was lying +flat on his belly, his head covered with his great coat; +his feet, in big bast sandals and thickly wrapped in +foot cloths, were sticking out. Ivan, with his cap shoved +down over his forehead, his hands tucked into his sleeves, +was lying on his side, also without moving; as for his +stern and serious silence, he maintained it because he +deemed it beneath his dignity to be interested in fools. +He was so little concerned, whether those before him were +murderers or not, that he had even called out once:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span></p> + +<p>“Time to sleep! Finish that gabbing to-morrow!”</p> + +<p>As for Pashka and the old man, both half-reclining +and biting little straws, they merely shook their heads +and grinned occasionally, as if to say: “Well, Theodot +sure has known his fill of trouble with that she-goat!” +And Theodot, evidently deeming himself already vindicated +by this sympathy for his ridiculous and hard +situation, lost entirely his diffidence about digressions. +And the high-school boy, gritting his teeth both from the +wind and from the inner cold, would at times look about +him wildly: Where was he, and what queer night was +this? But it was still the same simple, familiar country +night, of which there had been many. The field was +dark, the corn-kiln stood out in a sharp triangle against +the starry sky; through the underbrush, beyond which +the stars flared up and fell, a wind was blowing; its cool +breath, with the pleasant scent of the chaff, reached the +face and hands, rustled in the straw, and again grew +still, dying away.... The hounds—white balls sunk in +the straw—were fast asleep.... And all the horror lay +only in that it was late, that a small cluster of silver +stars had risen high in the north-east, that the dark +mass of the slumbrous garden was murmuring in the +distance, dully, autumn-wise; that the eyes in the faces +of those conversing were sparkling in the starlight.</p> + +<p>“Yes, little brother of mine,” Theodot was saying, +laughing over his own ridiculous and sad predicament, +“nobody can’t say it weren’t a misfortune! At last they +tell me, now, that a <i>moujik</i> in the Prilepakh had driven +my she-goat to his place. I start out to get her back; +no help for it,—such seemed to be my lot. I come to +the village; there’s nobody around, wherever I look,—everybody’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span>out in the fields. A lad is riding off for +water; I ask him,—‘Where’s Bockhov’s house?’ ‘Why,’ +says he ‘right there, where the old woman in the red +petticoat is sitting under a bush.’ I walk up: ‘Is this +Bochkov’s place?’ The old woman waves her hand at +me, pointing to a little yard in the blazing sun....”</p> + +<p>“Must have gone daft from old age,” put in Pashka, +starting to laugh so pleasantly that the student looked +around at him with amazement and fear, reflecting: +“Why no,—it can’t be true; he must have told lies about +himself!”</p> + +<p>“She was gone daft,” confirmed Theodot. “Just kept +on waving her hand. But I had already been hearing a +hog grunting in the little yard. I open the door to a +sty, a corner fenced off with plaited willow, where this +same pig was kept. I see a big sow pulling a woman +around; the woman’s thrown her weight upon it, holding +it with both hands, pouring out of a pail upon it with +the other. And the sow is all black from mud, lugging +the woman, dragging her along,—the woman can’t manage +her nohow, and her clothes is pulled up to her belly. +It was both to sin and to grin! Soon as she saw me, +she pulls down her skirt,—her legs, her hands was all +in manure.... ‘What d’you want?’ ‘What do I want? +I’m here on business. You drove my she-goat up here; +you’re keeping strayed cattle, but ain’t giving out no +notice of it.’ ‘We ain’t keeping any she-goat of yours,’ +says she. ‘We let her go. We drove her into the owner’s +place.’ And she laughs at something. ‘So-o,’ thinks I, +‘that means I’m in hot water again: well, just you wait!’ +I went out and kept on; I had just gone past the next +farm, had turned up a path through some flax, when a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span>red-haired little fellow bobs up from somewheres right +in my way. ‘Did you come for the goat?’ ‘For the +goat,—but why?’ Suddenly I hear a woman yelling beyond +the hut: ‘Where you gone to, Kuzka, damn your +eyes!’ ‘Run quick,’ I says, ‘here’s your mother comin’ +with some stinging nettles.’ And there she was, right on +the spot; she sees him and runs: ‘Didn’t I tell you to +look after the little one? But where did you go off to, +you so-and-so?’ And then she pounces on me! ‘Where +you from?’ ‘And what business of yours may that be +now?’ ‘Oh, no, you tell me where you’re from!’ ‘I’m +the man in the moon. What are you yelling about? I’m +looking for my she-goat.’ ‘Oh, so it’s you, is it, damn +your eyes, that don’t give any peace to the village with +your goat!’ And suddenly I see a tall <i>moujik</i> rushing +toward me from the corn kiln,—without a cap, beltless, +in boots. He ran on me at full speed. ‘Your goat?’ +‘Mine....’ He unwraps himself, swings back, and lets +fly one in my ear.”</p> + +<p>“Good work!” exclaimed the old man and Pashka in +the same breath; as for the school-boy, he even let out +a little squeal: this, then, was the most horrible part of +all! But Theodot calmly pulled out the skirt of his +short coat from under him, and calmly continued:</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, he warmed me up so that my head just begun +to hum. I grab him by his hands, and ask him, what +that was for? And by now people was running up.... +Right in front of everybody, I ask them to be witnesses +of this here matter; again I ask what it was my goat had +gone and done? It turns out that she had knocked a +child off its feet, had broken its head, making it bleed; +had chewn up a shirt, and had trampled some rye. Very +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span>well,—complain to the court about it; there I’ll be called +to account and you won’t be let off either. ‘Now,’ says +I, ‘you ain’t a-goin’ to get a durn thing off me!’ I put +on my cap and went as fast as I could to the owner’s +yard. I grew a trifle cheerier: the goat, thinks I, won’t +get away from me now; and you can’t sue me now,—you +should have waited before you started in fighting +with me. I draw near and I see, on a pony with a clipped +tail, a lad in a satin cap, his legs and arms bare,—a +jockey, they calls it. The horse is playful, and he flicks +it with a little whip. ‘How do you do, now; allow me +to ask,—has your grace got my she-goat?’ ‘And who may +you be?’ ‘I’m the owner of that there goat.’ ‘Well, now, +my daddy ordered it to be driven in.’ Things are going +along fine; I go on farther and meet a beggar, from +whom I lay in some bread,—for the hounds in the +owner’s yard are pretty big. I enter the yard and see +a four-horse carriage standing on the gravelled drive +near the house,—the horses are well-fed, spirited. +There’s a flunky at the grand entrance, his beard parted +in two. A grown-up young lady walks out in a hat +trimmed with ribbons, her face all covered up with +muslin. ‘Dasha!’ she yells to the maid in the house, +‘ask the master to come as soon as possible. He’s at +the riding-ground.’ I start for the riding-ground. +There I see the owner himself standing, in a uniform +frock with a green collar; he wears a medal and carries +his cap in his hand; his bald head simply blazes in the +sun, his belly is all in creases, and he’s all red himself. +And there’s a little lad perched up on the roof, his arm +plunged in under the roofing, looking for something,—must +be for starlings, thinks I to myself. But no,—he +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span>was taken up with sparrows. The owner looks on, yelling: +‘Catch them, catch, them, the sons of bitches!’ +And the little boy catches the young sparrows, pulls them +out, and knocks them against the ground. The owner +catches sight of me: ‘What do you want?’ ‘Why, now,’ +says I, ‘your gardener caught my she-goat at the strawberries. +Allow me to take her away, so’s I may kill her.’ +‘This isn’t the first time, now,’ says he, ‘I shall fine +you two roubles.’ ‘I agree with you,’ I says, ‘I’m at +fault, and I admit it. What hard luck!’ I says, ‘I always +have two wenches watching it; but yesterday, as +though for spite,—the deuce knows whether they ate too +many raw mushrooms, or what it was,—they was rolling +around, spewing up; and as for my wife, she also didn’t +watch out, to tell the truth,—she was lying in the barn, +yelling with all her might,—her hand had all swollen +up....’ A man’s got to excuse himself somehow. I +tell him all about what a baneful creature my she-goat +is, how I was given one in the ear for her,—he laughs +and grows good-natured. ‘No matter how I chase her,’ +says I, ‘I can’t catch her nohow; and I so wanted to ask +your grace for a little gunpowder and to borrow a gun +from the truck gardener, so’s to shoot her with it. Well, +of course, he softened a lot, allowed me to take her, and +I done for her on the spot.”</p> + +<p>“You done for her?” asked the old man.</p> + +<p>“Absolutely,” said Theodot. “‘Well, take it,’ says he, +‘only watch out, don’t mix it up with mine.’ ‘That +won’t happen, nohow,’ says I, ‘I’d know her amongst a +thousand.’ We went out to the fold, taking Pakhomka +the shepherd along with us. I give one look,—and at +once notice her behind the sheep; she was standing, looking +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span>at me sharply for some reason, eyeing me askance. +Me and Pakhomka got the sheep into a corner as tight +as we could, and I began to walk up to her. I make +two steps,—she gives one jump over a ram! And again +she stands, looking. Again I start for her.... And +then, she points her head with its horns toward the +ground and makes one dash for the sheep, and they +all just rush away from her,—they parted like water! +Then I got mad. Says I to Pakhomka: ‘You just +drive her up as easy as you can, the whilst I climb up +on the shed, where it’s darker, and grab her by the +horns.’ And it’s awful how much manure there was in +that yard, right up to the very sheds in some places. +I climbed up on the shed, laid down, grabbed a beam +as hard as I could, whilst Pakhomka kept on scaring her +on toward me. I waited and waited, until finally she +came under the very shed,—and then I made a grab for +her horns! And then she starts in bleating. I even got +scared! I fall off the shed; I dig my feet in, holding on +to the horns, while she dashes with me all over the yard, +drags me up to a pit; then she squirms out, scraping me +with her horn over the beard, over the nose,—till everything +turned black.... When I look up, she’s already +up on the roof: she’d jumped up on the pile of manure, +from the manure on to the roof, from the roof into the +tall grass.... We could hear the dogs getting noisy in +the yard; the other dogs picked it up, raising a racket in +the village. We, of course, jumped out after her. But +she’s flying along with all her might, and straight for +the last hut: there was a new hut being built there; the +windows was still boarded up and there was no entry +yet, while there was just bare poles laid aslant for the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span>roof. So she clambered up them up to the very ridge—a +power like a whirlwind must have carried her up there! +We ran up as fast as we could; as for her, she must +have felt her death coming,—she was bleating for all +she was worth, all scared. I picked up a hefty brick, +took aim,—and caught her so neat that she just jumped +up in the air, and then started with a swish down the +roof! We ran up, but she was just lying there, her +tongue jerking in the dust.... She’d take a breath and +then rattle, take a breath and rattle again,—till the dust +rose up near her nose. And her tongue was long, just +like a snake.... Well, of course, after half an hour or +so, she had croaked.”</p> + + +<h3 id="V"> + V +</h3> + +<p>There was a silence. Theodot raised himself up to a +sitting posture, and, bending down, spreading his hands, +began slowly to unwind the cords with which his old, +constantly falling foot-cloths were tied up. And a +minute later the school-boy with horror and repulsion +saw that which he had seen so many times before with +perfect calmness: a <i>moujik’s</i> bare foot, dead-white, enormous, +flat, with a monstrously grown great toe lying +crookedly on top of the others, and the thin, hairy skin, +which Theodot, having unwound and dropped the foot-cloth, +began to scratch hard in a delectable fury, tearing +it with his nails, as strong as those of a beast. +Having scratched his fill and wriggled his toes, he took +the foot-cloth with both hands,—it was hardened, bent, +and blackened at the heel and sole, just as though it +had been rubbed with black wax,—and shook it out, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span>spreading an unbearable stench upon the fresh breeze. +“Yes, murder means nothing to him!” reflected the +student, shivering. “That is the foot of a real murderer! +How horribly he killed this beautiful she-goat! And the +man that he killed with a whet-stone ... he must have +been sharpening a scythe ... and must have struck him +straight in the temple, killing him on the stop.... But +Pashka! ... Pashka! ... How could he tell about it +so gaily and with such enjoyment, too! ‘It came right +out at his back!’”</p> + +<p>Suddenly, without raising his head, Ivan began speaking +morosely:</p> + +<p>“Fools are beaten even at the altar. Why, Postnii, +it wouldn’t be half-enough to beat you to death for this +here she-goat. What did you go and kill her for? You +should have sold it. What sort of a husbandman do +you call yourself after that, you durn ninny, when you +don’t understand that a <i>moujik</i> can’t get along without +live-stock? It should be valued. If I only had a she-goat, +now....”</p> + +<p>He didn’t finish his sentence, was silent for a while, +then suddenly grinned.</p> + +<p>“There was an affair in Stanova, now; well that really +was something.... It wasn’t worse than your goat, +now; a land-owner by the name of Mussin was keeping +a wild bull. This bull just wouldn’t let anybody pass; +he gored two young cowherds to death. They’d fasten +him up with a chain, but still he’d tear loose and go off. +Just the very same way, too, like your goat, he’d trample +the peasants’ grain; but no one dared to chase him off: +they were afraid, and would walk a mile around him. +Well, of course, they sawed off his horns, gelded +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span>him.... He quieted down a bit. Only the <i>moujiks</i> +scored up everything against him. When these here +riots began, here’s what they did: they caught him in +the field, tied him up with ropes, threw him off his +feet.... They didn’t beat him at all, but just took and +stripped him to the last hair. So, all bare, he dashed +into the owner’s yard,—he ran in at full speed, fell all +in a heap, and died right on the spot,—losing all his +blood.”</p> + +<p>“How?” asked the school-boy; “they took his hide +off? While he was alive?”</p> + +<p>“No, while he was cooked,” mumbled Ivan. “Oh you +Moscow city feller!”</p> + +<p>Everybody started laughing; while Pashka, laughing +more than all of them, quickly picked up the conversation.</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s a lot of murderers for you! And you +was saying, just like that, that we ought to be treated +kindly. No brother, guess you can’t get along here +without us marching soldiers! When after the Seniyaks +we was stationed at Kursk, now, we was also restoring +order in a certain settlement. The <i>moujiks</i> had gotten it +into their head to ruinate an owner.... And the owner, +they do say, was a good sort, at that.... Well, the +whole settlement went for him, and, naturally, the women +tagged along. The watchmen came out to meet the +villagers. The peasants went for them with stakes and +scythes. The guards fired one volley, and then, of course, +took to their heels: what the devil sort of strength can +you expect from those dunderheads!—but one bullet did +get a baby in a woman’s arms. The woman was left +alive, but he, of course, didn’t even let out a squeak,—just +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span>gave one jerk with his little legs. So, good Lord!” +said Pashka, tossing his head from laughter and seating +himself more comfortably, “what only didn’t the +<i>moujiks</i> do! They broke everything to smash and +smithereens; chased this same owner into a corner, trampling +him down, while this <i>moujik</i>, the father of this here +child, ran up to that very spot with this same baby; +he was all gasping and crazed from grief, and he starts +in to beat the owner over his head with this dead baby! +Grabbed him by the little legs and starts in lambasting +the owner. And then the others fall upon him, and, of +course, all for one and one for all, they finished him. +We were rushed up, but he was already beginning to +rot when we got there.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what are you laughing about, you fool!” the +school-boy wanted to cry out, suddenly feeling a ferocious +hatred for Pashka’s laughter, for Pashka’s voice. +But here Kiriushka suddenly stirred, and, raising his +head, said with childish naïveness:</p> + +<p>“But that which took place when Kochergin the land-owner +was bein’ wrecked,—<i>that</i> was something awful! +I was then living with him as one of his shepherds.... +So all their mirrors was thrown into the pond.... +Afterwards, people from the village would come over for +a swim, and would always be pulling them out of the +slime.... You’d dive, stand up,—and then your foot +would just slide over a mirror.... And this, now ... +how do you call it ... fortopianner was dragged into +the rye.... We used to come ...” Kiriushka raised +himself up, and, laughing, leant back on his elbows; “we +would come and there it would be standing.... You’d +take a club, and start banging upon it,—upon its keys, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span>that is.... From one end to the other.... Why, it +would play better nor any accordeon!”</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed once more. Theodot had adjusted +his foot-gear, had again criss-crossed his foot-cloths accurately +with the cords, and, having set himself to rights, +had resumed his former position. And, having waited +for a moment of silence, he began to finish his story in +measured tones:</p> + +<p>“Yes, he gave me one on the ear, and yet put in a +suit as well.... For all these, now, losses and damages, +for the forage, that is. He was called Andrei Bogdanov,—Andrei +Ivannov Bogdanov. A tall <i>moujik</i>, he was,—red-faced, +thin, always evil-tempered, always drunk. +Well, now, so he started a suit. It was he that had +warmed my ear, and he it was that was suing me +to boot. Here the busiest time of the year came along, +with nary a breathing space; but I’ve got to be hiking +off fifteen miles away.... I guess that’s just what the +Lord must have punished him for....”</p> + +<p>As he gazed at the straw, stifling his cough and wiping +his flat lips with the palm of his hand, Theodot’s speech +was becoming more and more sombre, more and more +expressive. Having said “The Lord must have punished +him,” he was silent for a while, and then went on:</p> + +<p>“The suit, of course, came to nothing. A peace was +patched up between us. We was both at fault, that is. +But only he wasn’t content with that. He made up with +me, but right after he walked away, drank till he was +blind-drunk, started threatening to kill me. He yells before +everybody: ‘Wait,’ says he, ‘wait, I ain’t drunk yet, +now; but when I’ve drunk enough I’ll settle your hash.’ +I wanted to get away from the mixup,—it made me feel +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span>sick in the stomach.... Then he took to coming to our +village: he’d come under my windows, drunk as drunk +could be, and would start in to curse me out, saying +things about my mother. And I have a grown-up +daughter....”</p> + +<p>“That weren’t right,” sympathetically grunted out the +old man, and yawned.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it was a grand story!” said Theodot. “Well, now, +so he comes on an evening before the Kiriki. I +hear him making a hubbub in the street. I got up, without +saying a word, went out into the yard, sat down on +a harrow, and started sharpening a scythe. But I was +taken with such a rage that I saw red before my eyes. +Then I hear him walking up to the hut, raising a rumpus. +Must be wanting to break the panes, thinks I to myself. +But no; he just made a lot of noise and was already going +somewhere else. That would have been the end of it +perhaps,—if only Ollka, my daughter, hadn’t jumped +out ... And then she starts in yelling, with a voice not +her own: ‘Help, father, Andrushka is beating me!’ I +dashed out with the scythe whet-stone in my hand,—and, +all in a passion, hit him once right over his head! He +just hit the ground. Folks ran up, started dousing him +with water ... but he lies there, and by now he’s only +hiccoughing.... Maybe something might have been +done then.... Like putting a cold pack on him, or +something like that.... He ought to have been carried +off to a hospital as fast as possible, and a tenner should +have been handed to the doctor.... But where was a +tenner to be gotten? Well, so he hiccoughed and he +hiccoughed, and he passed away toward night. He +threshed about and threshed about; then turned over on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span>his back, stretched himself out, and there he was, all +ready. And the folks were standing around, looking, +all silent. And the lights was already lit by that time.”</p> + +<p>All atremble with a quick shivering, his face flaming, +the high-school student got up, and, sinking in the straw +up to his waist, started climbing down the stack. A +<i>borzoi</i> bitch, frightened by him, suddenly jumped up and +gave a jerky bark. The student drew back sharply, falling +into the straw, and stood stock still. The chill wind +was rustling; a cluster of chill autumn stars showed white +above his very head, while from beyond the hillock of +rustling straw came the measured, low-pitched voice of +Theodot.</p> + +<p>“I sat in the barn for two days under guard, and saw +the whole thing through a little window.... How they +cut him up, that is. The people flocked in from all the +villages, to have a look at this murdered man,—and me +too, for that matter. They used to shove their way right +up to the very barn. Two benches was carried out on the +common, placed right near the barn, and the murdered +man put upon them. A log of wood was put under his +head; chairs and a table were brought out for the coroner +and the sawbones. The sawbones walks up to him; +he tears off his shirt, tears off his drawers,—and I see a +corpse lying all naked, already stiff; yellow here and green +there, while his face was all like wax; the red beard had +become thin, and simply stood out. The sawbones put a +burdock over you know what place. Right at hand, as +usual, there was a box with all sorts of contraptions. +The sawbones walks up, parts his hair from ear to ear, +makes a cut, and begins to take off the scalp together with +the hair, in halves. Where it was thin, he scraped with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span>a little knife. He tore away a half to either side,—soon +as he gets one piece off, he pulls it down over the eye. +The whole skull became visible,—like some kind of a +little pot, it was.... And there’s a black spot on it, +near the right ear,—black clotted blood; where the blow +had come, that is. The sawbones says something to the +coroner, and the coroner writes: ‘Three cracks on such +and such parts.’ Then the sawbones starts in sawing +through the skull all around. The saw don’t work, so he +takes a little hammer and a small chisel, see, and goes +over the marks that he’d made with the saw, breaking +through with the little chisel. And the top of the skull +just fell away, like a cup,—the brain was all plain to be +seen....”</p> + +<p>“What don’t they do, the murdering cut-throats!” +hoarsely remarked the old man, who had just dozed off.</p> + +<p>But Theodot was firmly finishing his say:</p> + +<p>“Then he took out a heavy knife, and starts cutting the +chest, right through the gristle. He hacks out a three +cornered piece, and starts pulling it away,—it even +started cracking.... All the stomach came to view, +and the blue lungs, and all the innards....”</p> + +<p>Deafened by the beating of his own heart, the student +got up on his feet, standing up to the full of his great +height,—in his cap, shoved back on the nape of his neck, +in his light uniform overcoat, which was already too short +for him. Gray, huge, dreadful in his Mongolian calmness, +Theodot was speaking in measured tones, his pipe +gripped between his teeth; but the student was no longer +listening to him. With all his eyes he was looking at +all these men—so familiar and yet so unknown, so incomprehensible,—who +had made his whole soul so sick +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span>on this night. Pitiful in his vice and his meekness, in +all his pastoral primitiveness, Kiriushka was sleeping, +covered with his great coat, one thick leg, swathed in +white foot-cloths, and twisted at the knee, sticking out +from underneath it. Ivan, too, was sleeping; Ivan of +the morose, disdainful face, whose mother, a horrible, +black old woman, had been dying for three years now, +in his black mud hut, standing near the ditches at the +edge of the bare village, in the darkness and the dirt, +underneath the low ceiling, underneath the low roof of +sods, and yet cannot in anyway die, to her grief; while +his buck-toothed thin wife feeds at her dark-yellow, +hanging dry breast a bare-bellied, clear-eyed child, with +its nose running, and its lips bitten into blood by the +countless flies in the hut. The happy Pashka was sleeping +his heavy, healthy sleep in the fresh wind, in his +soldier’s cap, heavy boots, and his new short coat. As +for Khomut, the old man, who has not got even a short +coat (he has only a long coat, frayed and with a large +hole through the shoulder), whose drawers always hung +so low upon his flabby thighs,—he was sitting with his +back to the wind, bare-headed, stripped to the waist. +He, senilely emaciated, yellow of body, with his shoulders +elevated at a slant, with his twisted prominent backbone +glistening in the light of the stars, was sitting with +his big tousled head, ruffled by the fresh wind, bowed +down, bending his neck which was already scrawny and +all in coarse wrinkles. He was intently examining the +shirt he had taken off, and, as he listened to Theodot, +he would at times squeeze its collar band between his +thumb-nails.</p> + +<p>The student jumped down upon the hard and smooth +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span>autumnal earth, and, stooping, quickly walked toward +the dark, murmurous garden, toward home.</p> + +<p>All three dogs also arose, and, showing dimly white, +started running sideways after him, with their tails +curled tightly.</p> + +<p><i>1911.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="A_GOODLY_LIFE"> + A GOODLY LIFE + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">My</span> life has been a well-spent one; I got everything +I went after. I even own real property,—my +little old man right after the wedding signed +the house over in my name; and I keep horses, and two +cows, and we have a business all our own. Of course, +not a regular shop, now, but just a little store, as they +say,—but then, in our village, it will pass. I always was +successful, but then I have a persistent character, at that.</p> + +<p>As to all sorts of work, it was still my daddy that +learned me. Though he was a widower, and took to +drink, he wasn’t far behind me in being awful smart, +business-like, and heartless. When the serfs was freed, +now, he up and says to me:</p> + +<p>“Well, wench, I’m my own master now; let’s save up +some money. As soon as we save it up, we’ll go to +the city, buy a house all to our own selves; I’ll marry +you off to a fine gentleman, and live like a king. As +for our masters, it’s no use sticking here with them,—they +ain’t worth it.”</p> + +<p>Our masters, now,—although, to tell the truth, they +were good and kind,—was the poorest of the poor; actual +beggars, you might say. And so we went away from +them to another settlement; as for the house, the cattle, +and whatever household goods we had, we sold them. +We moved right near to the city, and hired a cabbage +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span>patch from a lady by the name of Meshcherina. She had +been a <i>fräulein</i> in the Tsar’s court; she was plain, +freckled, and had grown gray as a maid,—nobody would +take her to wife, so she lived in retirement. So, then, we +hired the meadows from her, and settled down in our little +hut, all peaceful and quiet. The weather’s chill; fall is +coming on,—but little we care! We sit and wait for +good profits and never feel trouble coming along. But +the trouble was right there,—and what trouble, at that! +Our venture was drawing near the winding up, when +suddenly something terrible happens. We had had our +tea in the morning,—it was a holiday,—so I stood, just +so, near the hut, watching the folks coming from church +over the meadow. As for my daddy, he had gone to +see about the cabbages. It was a sort of a bright day, +even though it was windy, and so I was gaping and +didn’t notice that there was two men approaching me. +One was the priest,—so tall, you know, in a gray cassock +and carrying a stick; his face was dark, earthy; he’s got +a mane like any fine horse, just simply spreading out in +the wind. The other was just a common peasant,—his +farm hand. They walked right up to the hut; I got confused, +made him a bow, and says:</p> + +<p>“How do you do, Father? Thanks for thinking of +us and calling.”</p> + +<p>But he, I see, is angry, sullen, doesn’t even look at me; +he just stands and breaks up clods with his stock.</p> + +<p>“And where,” says he, “is your father?”</p> + +<p>“They’ve gone to the cabbage field,” says I. “If you +like, now, I can call them. But there he’s coming, himself.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you just tell him to take away whatever goods +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span>he’s got, together with this dinky little samovar, and get +away from here. My watchman is coming here to-day.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, a watchman? Why, we have already +given the lady the money, ninety roubles it was. +What do you mean, Father?” (Though I was young, I +knew just what was what in such things.) “Are you +joking, or something?” I says. “You ought to produce +some proper paper,” I says.</p> + +<p>“No talk out of you!” he yells. “The owner is going +to live in the city; I’ve bought the meadows from her, +and now the land is my own property!”</p> + +<p>But he, himself, waves his arms about, knocks his stick +against the ground,—like as not to hit you in the snout +any minute.</p> + +<p>Father sees these goings-on, and starts running toward +us,—he was awful hot-headed. He runs up and asks:</p> + +<p>“What’s all this noise about? What are you yelling +at her for, Father, without knowing yourself what’s what? +You oughtn’t to be shaking your stick, but ought to +come right out and explain by what sort of right the +cabbages have come to be yours? We are poor folks, +now, we can go to court about it. You,” he says, “are +a person in holy orders; you can’t hold no enmity against +nobody; your kind can’t touch the holy sacrament if +you do.”</p> + +<p>Father, you understand, hadn’t said as much as one +saucy word to him; but the other, though he was a +pastor, was as wicked as the most ordinary drab <i>moujik</i>; +and so, when he heard that kind of talk, he just grew +pale,—not a word could he say, but you could just see +his legs quivering under his cassock. And then, don’t +he let out a squeal, and don’t he go for father,—to hit +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span>him over the head, you understand! But father got +from under it, grabbed the stick, tore it out of the +priest’s hands, and then went smash! over his knee with +it. The other tried to grapple with him, but father +breaks it in halves, flings the pieces away as far as he +can and calls out:</p> + +<p>“Don’t come near me, for God’s sake, your reverence! +You,” he calls out, “are black and like a beetle, but I am +still more of a beetle than you be.”</p> + +<p>And then he grabs him by the arms!</p> + +<p>What with courts and law, father was sent to a convict +colony for this here thing. I was left all alone in +this world, and thinks I, what am I to do now? Plainly, +you can’t get through the world on righteousness alone; +plainly, you must needs keep your eyes open. I figured +it out a whole year, living with my aunt; then I saw +there was nowhere for me to go,—I had to marry fast +as I could. My dad had a good friend in town, a harness +maker,—well, him it was that courted me. You +couldn’t say as how he made a striking bridegroom,—but +still he was a good catch, at that. There was, to tell +the truth, one man that I liked,—and liked right well; but +then he was poor too, about as bad off as I was, also +living with strangers, like me; but the other was his own +master, after all. I didn’t have a copper of dowry, and +here, I see, he is taking me without anything,—how could +I let a chance like that pass by? I thought, and I +thought, and went and married him,—although, of +course, I knew that he was an elderly man, and +a drunkard, and always excitable; a cut-throat, to put it +plainer.... I married him and became, you understand, +not an ordinary wench any more, but Nastasiya Semenovna +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span>Zhokhova, a citizen’s wife, living in a city.... Of +course, it seemed flattering.</p> + +<p>I suffered for nine years with this husband. That +citizen business was just a name; we was so poor really +that we was about as bad off as the <i>moujiks</i>! And then +there was scrapping and rows every blessed day. Well, +the Lord took pity on me, and took him away. The +children I had by him all used to die on me; there was +only two boys left,—one was Vanniya, going on nine; +the other was an infant in arms. He was an awful lively +and healthy boy; about ten months he started in to walk, +to talk; all of my children, now, used to begin walking +and talking about the eleventh month. He got to drinking +tea all by his own self,—used to sink his little face +in the saucer so’s you couldn’t pull it away, nohow. But +this boy died, too, when he weren’t a year yet. I come +home one day from washing clothes in the river, and my +sister-in-law,—we used to rent our rooms off her,—up +and says:</p> + +<p>“Your Kostiya was yelling and squirming all day to-day. +I done all sorts of things to him already; I worked +his arms and I patted him hard, and I gave him some +sugar and water; but all he does is gag, and throw up +the water through his nose. Either he’s gone and caught +a cold, or else he’s ate something; for the children always +put everything in their mouth,—how is a body to look +after them?”</p> + +<p>I was just scared stiff. I make a dash for the cradle +and throw back the curtain, but he was already beginning +to pass away then; couldn’t even as much as cry out. +My sister ran to get a doctor’s assistant we knew; when he +comes, he asks: “What did you feed him with?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span></p> + +<p>“He’s eaten some manna porridge, now, and that was +all.”</p> + +<p>“And wasn’t he playing with something?”</p> + +<p>“That’s right, he was,” says my sister. “There was a +copper ring from a horse-collar knocking about all the +time,—well, he was playing with that.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” says the doctor’s assistant, “he must have swallowed +it, for sure. May your arms wither!” says he. +“You’ve gone and done it now,—why, he’s going to die +on your hands!”</p> + +<p>Of course, it turned out just like he said. Not even +two hours had gone when he passed away. We took on +and we took on, but there was nothing as could be done +about it; for it’s no use going against the will of God. So +I buried him too; only Vanniya was left. Only he was +left; but then, as they say, one is enough. A small creature, +it’s true, and yet he’ll eat and drink as much as a +grown-up. So I started scrubbing floors at the home of +Nikulin,—a colonel in the army, he was. Him and his +wife was rather well off; they paid thirty roubles a month +for the rooms they had. They lived in the upper floor; +the kitchen was below. The woman they had to get up +their meals was a no-account little old woman; she wasn’t +responsible, and yet she was loose. Well, naturally, she +got in the family way. Couldn’t bend down to scrub the +floors, couldn’t pull a pot out the oven.... She went +away when her time came, and I just grabbed her place: +that’s how I had gotten around the masters! To tell the +truth, I’ve been clever and cunning from a girl up; no +matter what I took a hold of, I’d do it neat, accurate, +better nor any waiter. Again, I knew how to please +them: no matter what the masters would say, I’d just say +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span>“Yes, sir,” or “Yes, ma’am,” all the time, and “You are +absolutely right....” I used to get up when you could +still see the moon. I’d mop up the floors, make the stove, +polish up the samovar,—in the meanwhile the masters +would wake up, but I had everything ready. And then, +of course, I always kept myself clean, and was well-built,—I +was spare, but still I was handsome. There was times +when I’d even get to feeling sorry for myself: what were +my beauty and my knowledge going to waste for, now, +in such hard work?</p> + +<p>Thinks I, I ought to take advantage of the opportunity. +And the opportunity was, that the colonel was awful +strong himself and couldn’t bear to look at me calmly. +His wife, now, was a German,—fat, ailing, and some ten +years older than he. He weren’t good-looking; heavy-bodied, +short-legged, looking like a wild pig,—and she +was still worse. Well, I see he’s started to pay court to +me, to sit in my kitchen, to teach me smoking. Soon as +his wife went out, he was right there on the spot. He’d +chase his orderly into town, as though on some errand, +and be sitting there. He bored me to death, but, of +course, I pretended otherwise: I’d laugh, and I’d sit and +swing my leg,—getting him heated up in all sorts of ways, +that is.... What can you do when there’s poverty; and, +as they say, this little was as good as a feast. Somehow +one day, on the Tsar’s birthday, he comes down to the +kitchen in his uniform frock, in epaulettes, belted with +that white belt of his like with a hoop, with kid gloves in +his hands. He’s buttoned his collar so tight that his +neck is all swollen and he’s all blue in the face; he’s all +perfumed,—his eyes shining, his moustache black and +thick.... He comes down and says:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span></p> + +<p>“I’m going to the cathedral with the missus right away; +dust off my boots,—I’ve only gone through the yard and +yet I managed to get all dusty.”</p> + +<p>He put his foot in its patent-leather boot upon a bench,—just +like a big iron pillar, his leg was; I bent down, +wanting to wipe it off, but he grabs me by the neck, even +tearing my kerchief off; then he grabbed me tight about +the bosom and was already dragging me behind the stove. +I try this way and that,—can’t get away from him nohow. +And he is hot all over, just swelling up with blood,—trying +to overpower me, that is; to get at my face and kiss +me.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing!” I says. “The mistress is coming,—go +away, for the love of Christ!”</p> + +<p>“If you will get to love me,” he says, “I won’t begrudge +you anything!”</p> + +<p>“Oh yes, now, we know all about those promises!”</p> + +<p>“May I never leave this spot,—may I die without absolution!”</p> + +<p>Well, of course, there was more of the same sort of +thing. But, to tell the honest truth, what did I know at +that time? I could have very easily been taken in by +his words; but, glory be to God, things didn’t turn out +his way. Somehow he caught hold of me another time, at +an unlucky moment. I broke away, all mussed up, and +got mortal angry,—and there was the mistress, now; she +was coming down, dressed up, all yellow, fat, like a dead +person, groaning, her dress rustling on the stairs. I break +away, and stand there without my kerchief,—and there +she is, heading straight for us. He goes past her and +shows his heels, but I stand there like a fool, not knowing +what to do. She stood opposite me, and she stood some +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span>more, holding the silk skirt of her dress,—I remember like +it was to-day: she was going out visiting, and had on a +brown silk dress, and white mittens without fingers, and +she carried a parasol, and wore a hat like a basket. She +stood for a while, let out a groan, and went out. To tell +the truth, though, she never said a word to him or to me. +But when the colonel went away to Kiev, she just took and +drove me out.</p> + +<p>So I got all my little belongings together and went back +to my sister,—Vanniya was living at her house, you understand. +I went away from this place, and again I figure: +my brains are just going for nothing; I can’t save up +anything, nor make a decent match and have a business +of my own,—God has wronged me! I’ll get in harness +once again, thinks I, turn about somehow, and I <i>will</i> get +what I’m after, and <i>will</i> have a capital of my own, or die +trying! So I thought it all out, apprenticed Vanniya to a +tailor, and then got a place for myself as maid with +Samokhvalov the merchant.... And that was the beginning +of my rise.</p> + +<p>They gave me a wage of two and a quarter. There +was two servants,—me, and a girl by the name of Vera. +One day I wait at table, and she washes the dishes; the +next day I wash the dishes, and she waits at table. You +couldn’t call it a large family: there was the master, Matvei +Ivannich; the mistress, Liubov Ivanna; two grown-up +daughters; and two sons. The master himself was a +serious-minded man, not much given to talking,—he was +never even at home on week-days, and whenever there was +a holiday, he’d be sitting upstairs in his room, reading +all sorts of newspapers and smoking a cigar. As for the +mistress, she was a simple soul, kind, and, like myself, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span>from the middle classes. They wasn’t long in marrying +off their daughters, Anna and Klasha, and held two weddings +in one year,—married them off to military men. +Right there, to tell the truth, is where I begun to save up,—for +the military men did give me a great deal in tips. +If you just did anything, even a trifle,—like handing them +the matches, say, or their overcoats and rubbers,—right +off you’d have twenty kopecks, or thirty.... But then I +used to go about awful neat, and I pleased the military. +Vera, to tell the truth, was always putting on some airs, +like some miss or something; she took short, mincing steps, +was tender and awful easy hurt,—the minute anything +would happen, she’d knit her downy eye-brows, her lips, +like cherries, would start to quiver, and there was the +tears in her eye-lashes. True, she did have pretty eye-lashes, +great big ones, I never saw anybody else with +anything like them. But then, I was wiser. I used to +put on a smooth waist, cut on a bias, with open-work; I’d +put a switch on my head with a black velvet bow, and I +wore a starched white apron,—it would interest anybody +just to look at me. Vera, she always used to lace herself +tight in corsets; she’d lace herself so tight she couldn’t +stand it, and at once her head would start aching till she’d +throw up,—but I never even had no use for a corset, +and was all right as I was.... And when the military +men were gone, the sons started in tipping me.</p> + +<p>The elder had already reached twenty when I took the +place, and the younger was going on fourteen. This boy +had to sit all the while, poor fellow. He had broken all +his legs and arms,—I seen that business many a time. +When he’d break something, the doctor would come to +him right away, bandage it up with cotton, lint, and all +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span>that sort of thing; then he’d pour something over it like +lime; this same lime would dry up together with the lint, +would become like a splint; and when the hurt part was +healed up, the doctor would just cut all that stuff, taking +it all off,—and the arm, when you’d look at it, was all +grown together. He couldn’t walk by himself, but +crawled around on his bottom. He used to simply dash +upon sofas, and over thresholds, and up the stairs. +He even used to crawl across the whole yard into the +garden. He had a great big head, clumsy looking, like +his father’s; his temples coarse, red-haired, like a dog’s +wool; he had a broad, old-looking face. That was because +he used to eat an awful lot,—he’d eat sausage, and +chocolate bon-bons, and pretzels, and pastry made out of +layers of dough,—whatsoever his heart might desire. But +his little legs, his little arms, was like a sheep’s, and all +broken, all in scars. They used to keep him just so for a +long time, making long shirts for him of different colours; +sometimes blue, sometimes pink. They had a lady +teacher from a parochial school coming over to our house +to teach him. He was a great hand for learning, and had +a good head on his shoulders! And the way he’d play +on an accordeon—you couldn’t find even a whole person to +play like that! He’d play, and sing in time with the +music. He had a strong, piercing voice. He used to go +way, way up when he’d sing: “I’m a monk, and handsome +too!” He used to sing that song often.</p> + +<p>The elder son was in good health, but also a sort of innocent, +not fit for any business. They gave him away for +instruction into all sorts of schools,—and he was chased +out of all of them; they couldn’t learn him anything. +Come night,—he’d get full some place or other, and be +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span>gone until dawn. Still, he really was afraid of his mother, +and would not come in through the front door for anything. +I’d get through with my work in the evening, and +wait until the master and mistress would be asleep; then +I’d steal through the rooms, open the window in his little +den, and then go back to my place again. He’d take his +boots off in the street, crawl through the window in only +his stocking-feet, and never a squeak or a creak out of +him. The next day he’d get up like he’d never been any +place, and in some spot where we couldn’t be seen he’d +shove what was coming to me into my hand. It wasn’t +none of my worry, and I’d take it right gladly! If he was +to break his neck, that would be his lookout.... And +then I started in having an income from the younger, +from Nicanor Matveich.</p> + +<p>I was after what I wanted day and night, you might +say. Once I took into my head that one idea, to absolutely +provide for myself and to marry a decent party, I +had taken a fresh hold on life. I used to save every little +copper, now; money, you know, has little wings, once +you let it out of your hands!</p> + +<p>I got rid of this here Vera,—but she, to tell the truth, +was there really without need; I just put it that way to +the master and mistress: “I can get along all by my +own self,” I says; “you just add any trifle you like to my +wage, and you’ll do better nor now.” So, then, I was +left alone and managing everything myself. I wouldn’t +even take the wages in my hands,—soon as twenty or +twenty-five roubles would gather, I’d beg the mistress to +go to the bank and put it away in my name. Clothes, and +shoes, and everything else went with the place,—what was +I to spend money for? The only expenses I had was to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span>put up a little stone at my husband’s grave,—I paid two +roubles seventy, so’s people wouldn’t talk. And right +here, the Lord forgive us,—such was my luck and his misfortune,—this +poor wretch had to go and fall in love with +me....</p> + +<p>Of course, now I often think: maybe it was on account +of him that God punished me through my son. Sometimes +I can’t get it out of my head,—I’ll tell you right +away what he went and done to himself. And besides, +just consider that it really was very hard,—I used to look +at this big-headed fellow, and what a vexation would +take hold on me! “May this and that befall you,” I’d +think, “you was born, with a silver spoon in your mouth! +Even though you be a cripple, yet how rich you live.... +Whereas mine is all sound, and yet he don’t eat or drink +as much on a holiday as you do on a week-day, just so.” +Then I started in to notice,—it looked like he’d fallen in +love with me; well, now, he just wouldn’t take his eyes +off my face. By that time he was already sixteen, and had +taken to wearing wide trousers, and to belting his blouse; +a red-haired moustache started cropping out. But he +was homely, tow-haired, green-eyed—God deliver me! +His face was broad, but he himself was as thin as a bone. +At first, evidently, he got it into his head that he could +be pleasing,—he began to dress up, to buy polly-seeds, +and used to play on his accordeon so fine that you could +listen to him for hours. He played well, to tell the truth. +When he seen that his affair weren’t coming along, he +grew quiet and thoughtful-like. Once I was standing in +the balcony, and I see him crawling through the yard +with a new German accordeon. He had shaved and +combed himself once more; had put on a three-buttoned +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span>blouse with a high collar, fastening at the side; his head +was thrown back,—looking for me, that is. He looked +and he looked; his eyes became longing-like and dim, +and then he began a polka:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Let us go, let us go,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I would dance a polka through;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Dancing makes one braver; so</div> + <div class="verse indent0">I can speak my love for you....”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>But, like as if I hadn’t noticed him, I took and threw +down a slop-bowl, with water! I threw it down, and +then was scared myself. But he crawls, he struggles up +the stairs, drying himself with one hand and dragging +the accordeon by the other. His eyes were lowered, and +he was all white, and he spoke meek-like, all aquiver:</p> + +<p>“May your hands wither. What you’ve done is a sin, +Nastiya.”</p> + +<p>And that was all.... True, he was a peaceful one.</p> + +<p>He was losing flesh at that time, not by the day but by +the hour; and the doctor had already said that he wasn’t +long for this world, that he was bound to die from a consumption. +It made me shudder even as much as to +touch him. But then a poor person ain’t got no call to be +particular,—money can do anything, and so he started +in to bribe me. Just as soon as everybody used to fall +asleep, right off he’d call me to him,—either into the +garden or into his room. (He lived apart from everybody, +living downstairs; his room was large, warm, and +yet bleak; all the windows looked out into the yard, the +ceiling was low, the wall paper was old and brown.)</p> + +<p>“You just sit with me a while,” he says, “and I’ll give +you some money for that. I don’t want anything from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span>you,—I have simply fallen in love with you, and want +to be with you; these walls have near drove me crazy.”</p> + +<p>Well, I’d take the money and sit for a while, and I got +together about half a hundred in that way. And then I +had about four hundred of wages and interest laid by. +So, thinks I to myself, it’s about time now for me to be +crawling out of the harness, bit by bit. But, to tell the +honest truth, it was a pity to do so,—I wanted to bide +my time for another year or so, to save up a little more. +But the main thing was,—he had let it slip once when he +was talking with me,—he had a little toy saving bank +that he was keeping most secret,—he had gotten over two +hundred roubles in trifling sums from his mother. Naturally, +with him lying sick, always abed, and all alone, +his mother would thrust the money upon him to cheer +him up. But no matter how I tried not to, I still would +think once in a while: “The Lord forgive my transgression, +but it would be best if he gave that money to me! +It’s of no use to him, anyway; he’s like to die at any moment; +whereas I’d be well-fixed for all time with it.” I +just waited to see how this business might be worked, as +cleverly as possible. I became more kind to him, of +course; began to sit with him more often. I used to come +into his room, and then look over my shoulder on purpose, +as though I had come in by stealth. I’d close the +door and begin speaking in a low whisper:</p> + +<p>“There now,” I’d say, “I’ve got away; let’s sit together +like a lovin’ couple.”</p> + +<p>Making believe, that is, like I had a meeting arranged +with him, but that I was losing my courage, and yet at +the same time was glad that I had got through with my +work and could now be with him. Then I began to put +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span>on a weary air, to pretend I was in deep thought. And he +was always trying to get the reason out of me:</p> + +<p>“Nast, why have you grown so sad?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, just so! I’ve got more than my share of trouble!”</p> + +<p>And then I’d top that with a sigh, become quiet, and +lean my cheek on my hand.</p> + +<p>“But just what,” he’d say, “is the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” I says, “poor folks got a lot of things the matter +with them, but who ever worries about them? I +wouldn’t even want to bore you with them.”</p> + +<p>Well, he guessed what was what pretty soon. He was +clever, like I said,—he’d be a match even for a healthy +person. One day I came into his room,—it was, as I +remember even now, in mid-Lent; the weather was sort +of gloomy, wet, with a fog outside; everybody in the +house was sleeping after dinner. I come into his room +with some needle-work in my hands,—I was sewing something +or other for myself; I sat down near his bed and +was just wanting to heave a sigh, and again make believe +I was aweary, and then start leading him on to my idea +easy-like, when he starts in talking about it himself. I +can see him right now, lying in his pink blouse,—brand +new, never yet washed; in blue wide trousers; in new +small boots with patent-leather tops; his legs laid one +acrost the other, and him looking out of the corner of +his eye. His sleeves was wide, the trousers wider still, +and his little legs and arms like match-sticks; his head +was heavy, big, and he were all little himself,—it even +made a body unwell to see him. To look at him, he +seemed a boy, yet his face was that of an old man, although +it was somehow youngish at the same time,—that +was on account of him being clean-shaved,—and he had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span>a thick moustache. (Come to think of it, he shaved +himself every day, that’s how fast his beard would grow; +his hands looked like they was covered with tow, and +the hair upon them was all red, too.) Well, as I was +saying, he’s lying there, his hair parted on one side, his +face turned toward the wall; he was picking at the wall-paper, +and all of a sudden he says;</p> + +<p>“Nast!”</p> + +<p>I even shuddered all over.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Nicanor Matveich?”</p> + +<p>And meanwhile my own heart rolled up to my mouth.</p> + +<p>“Do you know where my toy bank is lying?”</p> + +<p>“No,” I says, “how should I know that, Nicanor +Matveich? I never had no evil designs in my mind upon +you.”</p> + +<p>“Get up; draw out the bottom drawer in the wardrobe; +take out the old accordeon,—that’s where the toy +bank is. Let me have it here.”</p> + +<p>“But what do you want it for?”</p> + +<p>“Just so,—I want to count the money.”</p> + +<p>I got at the drawer, opened the cover of the accordeon,—and +there, stuffed into the bellows, was a tin +elephant,—feeling pretty heavy. I take it out and hand +it to him. He takes it, rattles it, lays it by him,—just +like a baby, he was, honest to God,—and goes off into +thought about something. He keeps silent, and he keeps +silent; then he smiles, and says:</p> + +<p>“To-day, Nast, I had a fine dream. I even woke up +before daybreak on account of it, and it has made me +feel very good all day, up to dinner. Just look,—I have +even shaved myself, and have got all dressed up for +you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span></p> + +<p>“But then, Nicanor Matveich, you always go about +neat-dressed, anyway.”</p> + +<p>And I don’t understand myself what I’m saying, I’m +that excited.</p> + +<p>“Well,” says he, “I guess I will be able to go about in +the other world. You can’t even imagine what a good-looking +fellow I’m going to be in the other world!”</p> + +<p>I even got to feeling sorry for him.</p> + +<p>“It’s a sin to make fun of such things, Nicanor +Matveich, and I can’t even understand why you say +such things. Perhaps,” I says, “God will send you +health yet. You’d do better to tell me what your dream +was.”</p> + +<p>He started in beating about the bush again; started in +to smile wryly,—“What good am I alive!” he says. +Then he began, without rhyme or reason, to talk about +a cow we had:</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake,” says he, “tell mother to sell it; I +can’t stand it no more, that’s how tired I am of it; I +lie here in bed and look at the little barn where she’s +kept, and she always looks back at me through the +bars,”—and all the while he’s rattling the money, and +keeps from looking me in the eyes. And I listen, and +also can’t understand half of what he’s saying,—just like +two persons out of their minds, we was, saying anything +that came into our heads. Finally I couldn’t stand it +no more; for, thinks I, everybody will wake up at any +second, and they’ll be calling for a samovar, and then the +whole business falls through! And so I interrupt him +as soon as I can, going in for cunning:</p> + +<p>“But no,” I says, “you’d better tell me what dream you +saw.... <i>Was it anything about us two?</i>”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> + +<p>Of course, I wanted to say something that would please +him, and I struck it so right that he even changed colour +entirely, and cast his eyes down. All of a sudden he +takes the toy bank, gets a little key out of his trousers’-pocket, +and wants to open it,—and can’t, nohow; just, +can’t get at the key-hole, his hands are trembling so. +At last he does manage to open it and pours out all it +held onto his belly,—I remember it all like it was now: +there was two paper bills and eight gold pieces; he scoops +it all into his hand, and suddenly says in a whisper:</p> + +<p>“Could you kiss me just once?”</p> + +<p>My hands and feet just got numb from fright. But +he’s carrying on like he was going out of his mind, whispering, +stretching upward to me:</p> + +<p>“Nastechka, just once! God is my witness I will never +say another word, never ask again!”</p> + +<p>I looked over my shoulder,—well, thinks I, I might +just as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb,—and I +kissed him. So he was all just gasping; he grabbed me +around the neck, caught my lips, and I guess he didn’t +let me go for a whole minute. Then he shoves all the +money into my hand,—and turns his face to the wall.</p> + +<p>“Go,” he says.</p> + +<p>I ran out and went straight into my room. I put the +money away under lock and key, grabbed hold of a +lemon, and started in to rub my lips. I rubbed them so +hard that they simply turned all white. I was awful +afraid, to tell the truth, that I might get a consumption +from him....</p> + +<p>Well and good,—this business, then, turned out all +right, glory be to God; so I begin to lay my plans for +the next move, of more importance,—the one which I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span>had the most struggles about. I felt that there was +trouble brewing; I was afraid he wouldn’t let me leave +my place. “He’ll start in,” thinks I, “to pester me with +his love, will want to become my husband on account of +this money.” But no; nothing happens, I see. He don’t +try to annoy me; he treats me rightly, the same like before, +as though nothing had taken place between us,—even +more modestly, it looks like,—and he don’t call me +into his room: that meant he was keeping his word. +Then I bring the talk around to my going away, putting +it up to my master and mistress: it’s time for me to see +about my son a little, now; to be free for a little while. +They won’t even hear of it. And as for him, you can +understand how he felt, without my saying a word about +it. I hinted about my going away to him at one time,—so +he just got all white. He turns his face to the wall, +and says with a sort of a bitter little smile:</p> + +<p>“You have no right to do it,” he says. “You have +led me on, have got me used to you. You must wait,—I +will die soon. But if you go away now, I will strangle +myself.”</p> + +<p>A fine modest fellow he turned out to be, didn’t he? +“Ah,” thinks I, “damn your shameless eyes! Here I have +forced myself to do like you wanted, but you take to +threatening me! Oh, no, you haven’t come across one +of that sort in me!” And I started looking for an excuse +harder than ever. About that time, most luckily, the +mistress gave birth to another girl, and a wet-nurse was +hired for her; so I picked on that, saying that I couldn’t +get along with her. She was, to tell the truth, a wicked, +daft old woman; even the mistress herself was afraid of +her. And she used to drink, on top of that,—there was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span>always a demijohn on duty under her bed,—and she +couldn’t bear anybody to be near her. So she began +saying things about me, making trouble in all sorts of +ways. Either I hadn’t pressed the linen right, or else I +didn’t know how to wait at table at all.... But, if +you was just to say one word to her, she’d get all in a +trembling passion and run off to complain. She’d sob +out loud, and, of course, not so much because she had +been offended, but just dissembling. The further it +went, the worse it got, so I up and says to the master +and mistress:</p> + +<p>“So and so,” I says, “let me go; I can’t bear to live +on account of that old woman; I will lay hands on myself.”</p> + +<p>And in the meanwhile, I already had my eye on a +house on Glukhaya Ulitza.⁠<a id="FNanchor_11_12" href="#Footnote_11_12" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> Well, hearing me speak like +that, the mistress didn’t even try to hold me any longer. +True, when she was saying good-bye to me, she wanted +me to come and live with them again, awful hard; or +just to come on some holidays, or on birthdays:</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_11_12" href="#FNanchor_11_12" class="label">[11]</a> Blind Alley would be the nearest English equivalent. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>“You must,” she says, “always come to put things in +order, to get everything ready. It’s only when you’re +around,” she says, “that I feel easy. I have grown +used to you, like you was one of the family.”</p> + +<p>She saw me off with all honours,—which meant that +she no longer held any grudge against me; she baked a +great big white loaf, putting in a whole salt-cellar full of +sugar. I thank her in all sorts of ways, but, of course, +she wasn’t anything much in my life,—so I thinks one +thing, and I says another. I promised her all she +wanted and more, scraping and bowing low before her,—and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span>went my ways. And at once, with the Lord’s blessing, +I got busy. I bought the house I had in mind, and +opened a dram shop. The trade started off awful good,—in +the evening, when I’d come to counting what I’d taken +in during the day, there would be thirty, or forty, or +sometimes all of forty-five roubles in the till,—and so I +got the idea of opening up a store as well, so as, you +understand, to get them coming and going. My husband’s +sister had long since married a watchman in the +Red Cross; he was calling me gossip all the time, and was +friendly with me,—so I went to him, got a trifling loan +for all sorts of fixtures, permits, and started in doing business. +And right then Vanniya had finished his apprenticeship. +I took counsel with folks that knew a thing +or two as to where I could place him, now.</p> + +<p>“Why,” says they, “where else would you place him, +when there’s no end of work in your own house?”</p> + +<p>And they were right, at that. So I put Vanniya into +the store, and stay in the dram shop myself. And then +we were off! And, of course, I had even forgot to think +of all this past nonsense,—although, to tell the honest +truth, the poor cripple had just taken to his bed, at the +time I was going away. Never a word out of him to +anybody, but just lies down, just like he were dead, forgetting +his accordeon even. Suddenly, lo, and behold ye, +Polkanikha comes into my yard,—this same wet-nurse. +(The little boys had nick-named her Polkanikha.⁠<a id="FNanchor_12_13" href="#Footnote_12_13" class="fnanchor">[12]</a>⁠) She +comes, and she says:</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_12_13" href="#FNanchor_12_13" class="label">[12]</a> Wife-of-a-regiment. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>“A certain man has told me to give you his regards; +says you should come and pay him a visit, without fail.”</p> + +<p>I went all hot and cold from vexation and shame! +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span>“What a darling, to be sure!” thinks I to myself. “What +an idea he has gotten into his head! What a mate he +has found for himself!” I couldn’t hold in and I says:</p> + +<p>“I got no use for his regards; he ought to keep in mind +the state he’s in, and you, you old devil, ought to be +ashamed to try and be a go-between. Do you hear me, +or don’t you?”</p> + +<p>She just stopped short. She stands, all stooping, her +swollen eyes glowing at me from under her brows, +and just shaking her cabbage head; she’d grown daft, +either from the heat or from vodka.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you heartless creature!” says she. “He was even +crying about you,” she says. “All last evening he lay +with his face to the wall, and sobbing out loud.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” says I, “am I to start weeping bucketfuls? +And wasn’t he ashamed, the red-head, to be bawling before +folks? Why, what a baby! Or was he weaned from +the breast, or something?”</p> + +<p>And so I put the old woman out as empty-handed as +she had come, and didn’t go myself. And right soon after +that he took and really did strangle himself. Right then, +of course, I felt great regret because I hadn’t gone; but +at that time I had other things to think about, besides +him. I had one disgrace coming on top of another, right +in my own house.</p> + +<p>I had rented out two rooms in the house; one was +taken by the policeman on our post,—a fine, serious-minded, +respectable man, Chaikin by name; a young +lady prostitute came into the other. Flaxen-fair she was, +kind of young, and not at all bad to look at,—rather +good-looking. She was called Phenia. Kholin the contractor +used to come to see her,—he was keeping her; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span>well, I relied on that, and let her take the room. But +right here some disagreement took place between them, +and so he left her. What was to be done? She had +nothing to pay with, but I couldn’t chase her out,—she +had run up a debt of eight roubles.</p> + +<p>“Miss,” says I, “you must earn off anybody; I don’t +keep no open house for strangers.”</p> + +<p>“I will try,” she says.</p> + +<p>“But then, somehow a body can’t see you trying. Instead +of trying, you always stick at home evening after +evening. It’s no use,” I says, “to be placing your hopes +on Chaikin.”</p> + +<p>“I will try. It makes me conscience-struck, just to +hear you.”</p> + +<p>“A-ah!” I says, “what a conscience you must have, to +be sure!”</p> + +<p>She’ll try and she’ll try,—but there was no trying of +any sort, if the truth be told. She did try to get around +Chaikin but he wouldn’t even as much as look at +her. Then I see that she’s going after my boy. No matter +when I look, he’s always hanging around her. All of +a sudden, he gets a notion of getting a new jacket.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no,” I says, “you’ll wait a while! As it is, I’m +dressing you like any fine young gentleman; now it’s +boots, now it’s a cap. I, now, used to deny myself everything, +used to figure every copper as a gold piece, yet +I’d supply you with everything.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not a bad-looker,” says he.</p> + +<p>“You daft loon,” says I, “what am I to do, sell the +house, or something, on account of your good looks?”</p> + +<p>I notice that my business is getting poorer. I started +having shortages, losses. I’d sit down to drink my tea,—and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span>even that had lost its taste for me. I started +in to watch. I’d be sitting in the dram shop, and yet +be listening all the time—I’d put my ear to the partition, +without stirring, and listen. I’d hear them rumbling one +day, I’d hear them rumbling the next.... I begun scolding +him about it.</p> + +<p>“And what business is that of yours?” he says. +“Maybe I want to marry her.”</p> + +<p>“So that’s how,—it’s none of your own mother’s business! +I see your intention long since,” I says, “only this +is never going to be in this eternity.”</p> + +<p>“She’s mad in love with me; you can’t understand her; +she is tender and shy.”</p> + +<p>“A fine love you can expect,” I says, “from a deboshed +slut like that! She’s making fun of you, you fool,” I +says. “She’s got the bad disease,” I says, “all her legs +is covered with sores.”</p> + +<p>He seemed turned to stone for a while; his eyes was +all puckered up, like he was looking at the bridge of his +nose, and he kept silent. “Well,” thinks I, “glory be to +the Lord, I got him in the right spot.” But still, I was +frightened to death: it was plain to be seen, you understand, +that the poor fellow had fallen hard. “So that +means,” thinks I, “that I must finish her off as fast as +I can.” I take counsel with my gossip, and with Chaikin. +“Tell me, now, what am I to do with them?” “Why,” +they say, “catch them on the spot, of course, and throw +them out,—and there’s the long and the short of it.” +And here is what they thought up. I made believe I +was going out calling. I went away, walked for some +time through the streets, and about six o’clock,—when +Chaikin was relieved, that is,—I set out for home, soft +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span>and easy. I run up and push the door,—just as I +thought, it was locked. I knock,—no answer. And +Chaikin was already standing around the corner. Then +I started knocking on the windows, until the panes +jarred. Suddenly the latch clicks,—and Vanniya comes +out. He’s as white as chalk. I hit him on the shoulder +with all my might,—and go straight into the room. And +there it was just like a feast had been laid out,—empty +beer bottles; weak table wine; sardines; a large herring, +all cleaned, as rosy as amber,—everything from the store. +Phenka was sitting on a chair, with a blue ribbon in her +braid. Soon as she saw me, she jumped up, staring at me +with all her eyes; she was all white, and her very lips +had turned blue from fear,—she thought I’d go for +her, to beat her. But I just says, natural-like,—although +I could scarcely breath; I was throwing my +shawl open, and then muffling myself up again, by +turns:</p> + +<p>“What have you got here?” I says; “is it a bethrothal, +or something? Or is it somebody’s birthday? Well, +why don’t you welcome a body, why don’t you treat me +to something?”</p> + +<p>They don’t say a word.</p> + +<p>“Well,” I says, “why don’t you say something? Why +don’t you speak, little son? Is that the kind of a host +you are, my pet? So that’s where my hard-earned +money flies away, I see!”</p> + +<p>He even got his dander up:</p> + +<p>“I am of full age myself!”</p> + +<p>“So-o,” I says, “and what about me? That means that +I’m to rent a hutch or something from your grace and +this here little bitch? To get out of my own house? Is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span>that it, eh, so I’ve warmed a viper in my bosom, have +I?”</p> + +<p>And then he starts yelling at me!</p> + +<p>“You have no right to insult her! You have been +young yourself at one time,—you ought to understand +what love is!”</p> + +<p>And Chaikin, the minute he heard that uproar, was +right there: he jumped in without a word, grabbed +Vannka by the shoulders, and straight into a lumber +room with him, under lock and key. (An awful strong +man, he was,—like a bandit or something!) He turns +the key on him, and says to Phenka:</p> + +<p>“You are listed as a miss, but I can make a wolf out +of you!”</p> + +<p>(Meaning he’d make a note on her passport that would +make her hounded like a wolf.)</p> + +<p>“Do you want me to do that,” he says, “or don’t you? +Vacate this room for us this very day, so’s there won’t +be even a whiff of you left!”</p> + +<p>She went into tears. But I added something on top +of that.</p> + +<p>“Let her first get the money what’s coming to me!” +I says. “Or else I won’t even let her take away +the least little lousy trunk of hers. Let her get my +money ready, or I’ll let the whole town know about +her!”</p> + +<p>Well, so we packed her off that same evening. When +I was chasing her out, she took on something awful. +She cried and she couldn’t catch her breath for sobbing; +she even tore her hair. Of course, her fix wasn’t any too +sweet. Where was she to go? All her goods, all her +booty, was her own person. But never the less she went +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span>off. Vanniya, too, quieted down for a while. He was +let out from under lock and key in the morning,—and +never a peep out of him; he was very much scared, and +you could see by his face that he was conscience-stricken. +He settled down to work. And so I even rejoiced and +was set at rest,—but not for long. Again there were +leaks from the till; and this here street-walker started +sending a boy into the shop, and my son, now, would +supply her with all sorts of delicacies! Now he’d give +her all the sugar she wanted, now tea, now tobacco.... +Or a handkerchief, or soap, again and again,—whatever +came to his hand.... How was a body to watch him all +the time? And then he started in to drink, harder and +harder. At last he neglected the store entirely: he didn’t +even live at home, come to think of it,—he’d just come +in and eat, and then he’d be off again without as much as +a by-your-leave. Every day he’d go off to see her; he’d +put a bottle under his coat, and away with him; and this +same vodka, now, was already dear then. I run around +like a chicken without its head,—from the dram-shop to +the store, from the store to the dram-shop; and by that +time I was afraid to tell him as much as a word,—he had +become a downright tramp! He always was a good-looker,—he +took after me entirely; his face was very +fair and soft,—just like a young lady, he was; he had +clear, intelligent eyes; was well-built, broad-shouldered, +with chestnut curly hair.... But now his mug was all +bloated; his hair got shaggy and came down over his +collar; his eyes got bleary, and he got all tattered and +had begun to stoop. He always kept silent now, looking +at the bridge of his nose all the time,—in deep thought, +like.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span></p> + +<p>“Don’t you bother me now,” he’d say, “I’m liable to +do something that will lead to prison.”</p> + +<p>And when he’d get tipsy, he’d start slobbering, laughing +over nothing at all; he’d be playing <i>Time Fled Beyond +Recall</i> on his accordeon, and his eyes would fill with +tears. Well, I see my affairs are in a bad way,—time for +me to get married, soon as I can. And right then they +was trying to make a match betwixt me and a certain +widower,—he had a store, too, and lived in a suburb. +An elderly man, he was, but in good standing, with means. +Just the very thing, you understand, that I was striving +for. I find out as quickly as I can from trustworthy +folks all about his life, down to the last stitch; I see +there’s nothing out of the way whatsoever. I got to +decide about getting up an acquaintance as quick as possible,—the +match-maker had only shown us to each other +in church before that; I got to bring it about, you understand, +so’s we can visit each other,—sort of make an inspection, +as it were. He comes to me first, and gives his +credentials: “Lagutin, Nikolai Ivannich,—store-keeper.” +“Very pleased to meet you,” I says. I see he’s altogether +a fine man,—not any too tall, of course, and all gray; but +so agreeable, quiet, neat, diplomatic,—you could see he +was a thrifty sort; he had never run up a copper of debt +to anybody in all his life, he says. Then me and the +match-maker went to see him, like it was on business. +We get there. I see he’s got a wine-cellar,—Rhine wines, +mostly; and a store stocked with everything that goes +with wines: cured lard, now, and ham, and sardines, and +herrings. The house wasn’t large, but neat as a pin. +There was flowers and little curtains on the windows, the +floor was swept clean,—even though he were a bachelor. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span>In the yard everything was in order, too. There was +three cows and two horses. One was a three-year-old +brood-mare,—he’d been offered five hundred for it already, +he said, but he’d turned the offer down. Well, I +just went into raptures watching that horse,—that’s how +handsome it was! But he only smiles quiet-like, walks +with little steps before us, crackling his fingers, and telling +us everything, like he was reading off some price-list: +here’s this and this, and there’s that and that.... So, +thinks I, it’s no use trying to be too smart here; the business +ought to be brought to an end quick....</p> + +<p>Of course, it’s only now that I’m telling all these things +so briefly; but only my poor head knows what feelings +I went through at that time! I couldn’t feel my legs under +me for joy,—I’d gotten what I was after, you see, I +had found the party I was looking for! But I kept silent, +I was afraid and shivering all over,—supposing all my +hopes was to be dashed down? And that’s almost what +did happen; all my trouble almost went for nothing,—and +I can’t tell calmly the reason why, even now;—it was +on account of this here poor cripple, and on account of +my darling little son! We was managing this business so +quietly, so genteel, that we thought never a soul would +know. But no, I hear that the entire suburb already +knows about my intentions and Nikolai Ivannich’s; the +rumour, of course, reached the Samokhvalovs as well,—never +fear, it was nobody else but Polkanikha that whispered +it to them. And he, the poor cripple, now, took +and hung himself, like I’m telling you! “There now, +you,—I threatened and you didn’t believe me, so now, I’ll +do it just to spite you!” He hammered a nail into the +wall above his head, fixed a cord from a sugar-loaf to it, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span>drew it around his throat, and crawled off the bed. It +wasn’t no great trick; didn’t take much brains! One day +at twilight I was standing in the store, putting some +things to rights,—when suddenly some one thunders +again and again against a shutter in the house. My +heart just went down into my shoes. I jump out on the +threshold,—it’s Polkanikha.</p> + +<p>“What do you want?”</p> + +<p>“Nicanor Matveich has passed away!”</p> + +<p>She barked it out, turned on her heel, and went for +home. But I, in the first excitement, didn’t take anything +into account,—it was just like I had been scalded +with steam from fright.... I threw a shawl over my +shoulders, and started after her. She runs, with her skirt +caught up in front, stumbling, stooping,—and I keep +on running too.... It was just a disgrace before the +whole town! I run, and can’t understand a thing. I +had only one thought,—I’m ruined forever! Just think +of what he’d gone and done,—may God not bear it +against him! Just think what little conscience some +people have! I run up to the house,—and there are as +many people there as at a fire. The front entrance is +ajar; whoever wants to pushes his way in,—everybody is +curious, naturally. In my lightheadedness I tried to get +in there too. But, glory be, something seemed to hit me +over the head; I came to my senses and backed out. +Maybe that was what saved me,—else I would have known +what crow tastes like. If any one,—why, even this Polkanikha, +say,—had remembered me!... “Here, now, +your honour, is the one we think is to blame, who is the +reason of it all; just you question her,”—and all would +have been over with me. Try and wriggle out of it then. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span>A person may not have a blessed thing to do with it, but +they grab you and put you away.... It wouldn’t be +the first time a thing like that has happened.</p> + +<p>Well, soon as they buried him, my heart eased up a +little. I’m getting ready for the wedding, hurrying to +wind up my business, to sell what I could without loss,—when +again there’s grief and woe. I was knocked off my +feet as it was, what with one worry and another, and was +all roasted from the heat,—the heat that year was simply +unbearable, with dust, with a hot wind, especially in our +neighbourhood, in Glukhaya Ulitza, standing half way +up on a hill,—when suddenly there was another bit of +news: Nikolai Ivannich had taken offense. He sends over +this same match-maker, now, that had brought us together,—a +terrible slut, she was, and kept both her eyes peeled; +never fear, it was she herself that put him, Nikolai Ivannich, +up to it. Nikolai Ivannich lets me know through +her as how he’s putting off the wedding until the first of +September,—he’s got a lot of affairs to attend to, now,—and +lets me know about my son, about Vanniya: to figure +out what was best to be done with him; that he was to be +placed anywhere at all,—“Because, now,” he says, “I won’t +take him into my house, for no amount. Even though he +be your own son,” he says, “he’s bound to clear ruin us, +and he’ll be upsetting me.” (And really, just think of +his position! Since he’s never known any turmoil, had +never raised any rows, of course he was afraid of any +excitement: whenever he’d get excited, everything in his +head would get muddled,—he wouldn’t be able to say +a word.) “Let her get rid of him,” he says. And where +was I to place him, how was I to get rid of him? The +young fellow had gotten out of hand entirely; with +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span>strangers he’d break his neck altogether. But there was +no way of getting away from his riddance. As it was, I +was all through with him ever since he’d come to know +Phenka: she had just bewitched him, the bitch! He’d +sleep all day and drink all night,—turning night into +day.... I couldn’t even begin to tell the trouble I went +through with him that summer! He got me so that I +began to melt away like a candle; I couldn’t hold a spoon, +my hands shook so. Soon as it got dark I’d sit down on +the bench before the house and wait until he’d come in off +the street,—I was afeared the boys in the city might do +him up....</p> + +<p>Well, having gotten such a decision from Nikolai Ivannich, +I call my son to me: “So and so, my little son,” +I says, “I’ve borne with you long enough, but you’ve +turned out a weakling and have gone astray; you have +disgraced me all over this neighbourhood. You’ve got +used to having everything soft and nice, now, until at +last you’ve become a tramp, a drunkard. You haven’t +got a gift like I have,—no matter how many times I fell, +I always got up again; but you can’t save up anything +for yourself. Here am I,—I’ve come to be respected, and +I own real estate, and I drink and eat no worse nor other +folk; I don’t deny my heart nothing,—and all along of +being governed by common sense, always and above all +things. But you, I see, want to stay a flutter-fly, like +you’d always been. It’s time you was getting off my +neck....”</p> + +<p>He sits there and never a word out of him,—just picks +the oilcloth on the table. I had just called him out to +dinner, for he’d been sleeping all along, and his mug was +all puffed up.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, why don’t you say something?” I asks. “Don’t +you be tearing that oilcloth,—get one of your own first; +just you answer me.”</p> + +<p>Again he don’t say a word; he bends his head and his +lips quiver.</p> + +<p>“You’re going to marry?” he says.</p> + +<p>“Well,” I says, “it ain’t known yet whether I am or +whether I ain’t; but, if I do marry, it will be a decent +man, that ain’t a-going to let you into his house. I ain’t +your Phenka, brother; I ain’t no street-walker or something.”</p> + +<p>When all on a sudden he jumps up from his place and +gets all in a passion:</p> + +<p>“Why,” he says, “you ain’t worth one of her fingernails!”</p> + +<p>How was that? Good, eh? He jumped up, yelling till +it didn’t sound like his own voice, slammed the door like +thunder,—and off with him. But I, even though I was +no great hand at crying, just went off into tears. I cry +one day, I cry another,—I had only to think of the words +he could find the heart to say to me, and off I’d go. I +cry, but I keep one thing in mind,—I would never forgive +him such an insult till the end of time, and I would +drive him off entirely.... But all this time he don’t +come home. I hear he’s carrying on a feast at her house, +dancing and prancing, drinking through the money he had +stolen, and threatening me: “Never mind,” he says, “I’ll +settle her; I’ll lay in wait till she’ll be going somewhere +in the evening; and I’ll kill her with a stone.” He sends +to the store to buy things,—to make fun of me, of course; +now for ginger cookies, now for herrings. I just quiver +all over from vexation, but I hold myself in and give +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span>what’s wanted. One day I’m sitting in the store, when +suddenly he comes in himself, drunk as a lord. He +brings in some herrings,—a little wench had bought four +of them that morning for his money, of course,—and slap +with them down on the counter!</p> + +<p>“How dare you,” he yells, “send such abominable stuff +to your customers? They smell; they’re only fit for dogs +to eat!”</p> + +<p>He’s yelling, with his nostrils all puffed out,—looking +for an excuse.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you be raising no rumpus here,” I says, “and +don’t be yelling; I don’t make the herrings myself, but +buy them by the barrel. If you don’t like them, don’t +guzzle them,—here’s your money back.”</p> + +<p>“But what if I had ate them and died?”</p> + +<p>“Again,” I says, “you’re swine, and ain’t got no call to +be yelling at me,—who are you to be giving me orders? +Guess you ain’t such a much. You ought to speak decent-like, +and not be crowding in with a row into somebody +else’s establishment.”</p> + +<p>But all on a sudden he grabbed hold of a steelyard off +a bin and sort of hisses out:</p> + +<p>“I’ll swat you over the head,” he says, “so’s you’ll +stretch right out!”</p> + +<p>And then he ran out of the shop with all his might. +But I, the way I had sat down on the floor, that’s the way +I stayed,—I just couldn’t get up....</p> + +<p>Then, I hear that they done for him,—the Lord had +punished him on account of his mother! He was barely +alive when they brought him in a cab,—unconscious +drunk, his head bobbing, his hair caked with blood and +covered with dust; his boots and watch had been stolen, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span>his new jacket was all in tatters,—there wasn’t as much as +a square inch of whole cloth left anywhere.... I figured +and I figured,—take him in I did, and I even paid the +cabby; but that very same day I sends my compliments +to Nikolai Ivannich, and say that he be told for sure +that he shouldn’t be worried any more over anything; +that I had decided about my son, now,—I would drive +him out without any pity right off when he would wake +up. He also sends back his compliments and bids them +say: “Very wisely and well done, accept my thanks and +sympathy ...” and two weeks later he set the date +for the wedding. Yes....</p> + +<p>Well, that’s enough; that’s where my story ends. Guess +there’s nothing more, to tell about. I’ve gotten along so +well with my husband all my days, that it’s just like a +rarity nowadays. As I’m saying, what I went through +whilst I was struggling to get into this heaven can’t be +told in words! But, truth to tell, the Lord hath rewarded +me,—it is now the twenty-first year that I’m living with +my little old man, fenced about as with a stone wall, and +I know for sure that he wouldn’t let nothing or nobody +hurt me; it’s only to look at him that he’s so quiet! But, +of course, no matter how I try, the heart <i>will</i> start yearning +once in a while! Especially before Easter, in Lent, +for some reason or other. I think I could die now,—it’s +fine, peaceful; they’ll be after reading litanies in all the +churches.... True, I’ve had enough of toiling and moiling +in my time,—oh, but Nastasiya Semenovna was the +persistent one! Ought I, with my mind, to be sitting on +the outskirts of a town? My husband calls me Skobele,⁠<a id="FNanchor_13_14" href="#Footnote_13_14" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span>as it is.... Again, once in a while I get to longing for +Vanniya. Never a bit of news about him in twenty years. +Maybe he’s died long since, but I don’t know about it. +I even felt sorry for him that time they brought him in. +We dragged him in, and got him up into bed,—he slept +like he was dead the livelong day. I’d climb up, and +listen to his breathing,—to see if he was alive, now.... +And in the room there was a sour stench of some sort; +he’s lying in bed, all tattered, chewed-up, snoring and +gagging.... It was a shame and a pity to look at him, +and yet it was my own flesh and blood! I’d look and I’d +look, and I’d listen,—and then walk out. And what an +anguish seized hold on me! I forced myself to sup, +cleared away the table, put out the light.... Can’t sleep, +and that’s all there is to it,—I just lie there and shiver.... +And it was one moonlit night. Then I hear he’s +waked up. He’s coughing all the time, all the time going +out into the yard, banging the door.</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_13_14" href="#FNanchor_13_14" class="label">[13]</a> A great Russian general and a universal military genius and +strategist. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>“What you walking about for?” I ask.</p> + +<p>“My stomach aches,” he says.</p> + +<p>I can hear by his voice that he’s upset and grieving.</p> + +<p>“Drink some of that mugwort and vodka that you’ll +find in a bottle standing in the image shrine.”</p> + +<p>I lay a little longer,—I may have dozed off a little,—when +I felt through my slumber, that some one is stealing +up over the flooring. I jumped up,—it was he.</p> + +<p>“Mother, dear,” he says, “don’t be afraid of me, for +the love of Christ!”</p> + +<p>And then he went off into a flood of tears! He sat +down on the bed, catching my hands, kissing them, raining +tears on them,—and just unable to catch his breath,—that’s +how he was crying and sobbing. I couldn’t bear +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span>it—and went off on my own! It was a pity, of course, +but there was no help for it,—all my future lot turned +upon him. But then, I saw he understood all this very +well himself.</p> + +<p>“I can forgive you,” I says, “but you see yourself, now, +that there’s nothing to be done about it. So you just go +away as far as possible, so’s I shouldn’t even hear about +you!”</p> + +<p>“Mother, dear,” he says, “why have you ruined me, +just like you ruined that poor cripple Nicanor Matveich?”</p> + +<p>Well, I see the man ain’t in his right senses yet, so I +didn’t even start to argue with him. He cried and he cried, +then he got up and went away. And in the morning, I +look into the room where he’d slept, but he was already +gone for a long while. That meant he had gone as early +as possible for shame,—and then he just disappeared, like +a stone in the water. There was a rumour, now, that he +had lived for a while in a monastery at Zadorsk; that he +had then travelled to Tsaritsin,—and there, never fear, +he must have broken his neck.... But what’s the use of +talking about it—it only troubles the heart! No matter +how much you cook water, it will still be water....</p> + +<p>But as to what he’d said about Nicanor Matveich,—why, +I think it’s even silly. It wasn’t like I had been +greedy after a great sum, or had pulled it out of his +pocket. He knew his unfortunate condition himself, and +was often taken with spells of sadness. He used to say +to me at times:</p> + +<p>“Nastiya, fate has made me a cripple, and my nature +is an insane one: either I’m gay somehow, like just before +some misfortune,—or else I have such a melancholy spell, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span>especially in summer, during the heat, with all this dust, +that I could just lay hands on myself! I’ll die; they’ll +bury me in the Chernoslobodskaya cemetery,—and this +dust will swirl for all eternity on to my grave, from beyond +the enclosing wall!”</p> + +<p>“But, now, Nicanor Matveich, why take on so about +that? We don’t feel such things when we’re dead.”</p> + +<p>“Why,” he says, “what of it that we won’t feel them,—the +trouble is that one thinks about them while one is still +alive....”</p> + +<p>And, to tell the truth, it was awful wearisome in the +house, in the Samokhvalovs’, when everybody would fall +asleep after dinner, and the wind would be swirling this +dust along! And he had laid hands on himself just at +the time of the greatest heat, at the dullest time. Our +whole town, to tell the truth, is wearisome. I was in Tula +the other day, now,—why, you can’t even compare them!</p> + +<p><i>1911.</i></p> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="I_SAY_NOTHING"> + “I SAY NOTHING” + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">When</span> he had been a young man, everybody used +to call Alexander Romanov Shasha; at that +time he was living in the settlement of Limovo, +in an iron-roofed house that stood facing the common, +and his beatings were administered to him by his father, +Roman.</p> + +<p>Roman deemed himself the first man in all that district,—he +used to shove his hand out to all the gentry and the +squires whenever he would meet them. He had a store +in the settlement, and a mill beyond it; but the way he +got richer and richer was by buying up groves from the +land-owners and then cutting them down. Makar, his +own brother, had nothing to eat; all in tatters, he might +be hobbling over the common, and, doffing his hat meekly, +would say: “Greetings, brother.” But Roman, well-fed, +looking like a deacon, would answer him from his stoop: +“Don’t you brother me, you dolt. You’ve made your bow, +so just keep on going on your way.” What, then, must +have been the feelings of the sole heir of such a man? +He used to stroll through the village in a cap that had +come from the city; in a sleeveless overcoat of the finest +broadcloth, in boots with patent-leather tops. He was all +the time cracking polly-seeds, and playing polkas on an +expensive accordeon. Whenever he met any wenches or +young lads,—all his relatives, all consanguine, everyone +of them,—he would be followed by that sort of gaze from +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span>which celebrities feel a chill run down their back. But he +would meet such a gaze with a surly—even a ferocious—one; +all his youth seemed to have passed in a preparation +for that rôle in which he attained such perfection later +on.</p> + +<p>Roman, at the height of his prosperity, began to decline +in strength, and to get muddled in his affairs. Grizzled, +bearded, pot-bellied, clad in a sleeveless overcoat of casinette +that resembled an under-cassock, it was only when +he was in his cups that he plucked up heart; but when +sober he was always despondent and deliberately churlish. +He still retained his glory and his might. Out on the +common, near the church, right opposite his windows, +he had built a school; he was trustee over it, and could +at any instant he liked make the teacher grovel at his feet. +He was still able to give goods on credit to the land-owners; +to give bribes to the police inspector, without the +least necessity; he could still regale one with smoked +sprats, with a pickled lobster in a rusty can, with sherry +and with wine from Tsimliyan, which is something like +champagne,—and, even as he entertained, he would yell, +if his guest were of the humbler sort: “Drink, you blockhead!” +But it surely was high time to supplant him. +But who could do it? That was just it,—there was no +supplanting him. Shasha was withdrawing more and +more into his rôle of a man upon whom had been inflicted +an insult which could be wiped out only by blood, +and his relations with Roman resolved themselves merely +into Roman’s dragging him around by his “temples.” +Shasha, to use Roman’s words, could make an angel lose +his patience,—it was impossible not to be dragging him +around. And drag him around Roman did. But the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span>more he dragged him, the more unbearable did Shasha become.</p> + +<p>Who but he should have taken pride in the house, the +might, the ways of his father? His father would yell at +him, in the presence of guests: “Go on, now, be a trifle +more free and easy, you dolt!” But then, that was the +way of those whom his father imitated, the way of the +merchants; and was it not a matter for the highest pride +to feel one’s self a merchant’s son? At times his father +would even boast about him, self-complacently saying to +the guest: “Wait, I’ll show youse my son!”—and would +shout all over the house: “Shash, c’mon over here,—Mikolai +Mikhalich wants to have a look at ye!” But, oh, +the way Shasha would enter the room where his father and +the guest were sitting! He would enter with his face +crimsoning, glowering from underneath his beetling and +knit eye-brows, holding his arms stiffly akimbo, like a +pretzel, and stepping still more stiffly, toeing in, and as +elegantly as if he, were dancing the fifth figure of the +quadrille,—and, having made a scraping bow to the guest, +he would instantly rush backward to the window, toward +the lintel of the door; blowing out his nostrils, he would +tear his hang-nails with his teeth, and, in the expectation +of an affront from the visitor, answered +all questions with the most ludicrous brevity and abruptness.... +How, then, could one refrain from beating +him? The guest would depart; Roman, having seen him +off, would walk up to Shasha without a word, and, swinging +back his arm, would grab Shasha fast by his hair. +Without a word, Shasha would extricate his head out of +his father’s fingers, and, having run out into the anteroom, +would smite his bosom with his fist:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</span></p> + +<p>“All r-r-right, father! I say nothing! I always say +nothing!” he would hiss ominously.</p> + +<p>“Why, she-animal that you are!” Roman would bawl +at him. “Why, it’s for this same silence and hoiti-toitiness +that I’m a-beating you of! So, then, you’re striving +for the beating yourself? Why? Wherefore?”</p> + +<p>“My ashes when I’m laid in my grave shall know it +all!” Shasha would answer ferociously and enigmatically.</p> + +<p>One could have wagered his head that he must have +been in an excellent state of feelings. Had he not been +born with a golden spoon in his mouth? He would order +new boots two or three times in a year; he never ran +short of money or of polly-seeds; he would promenade the +main street with the teacher, and he played on the harmonica +better and more spiritedly than everybody else; +the wenches used to sing their “heart-breaking” songs without +taking their languishing eyes off him. While in the +fall, in the winter, he would pay court at evening parties +to the coquettish daughters of the priest, to the daughters +of the police inspector, dancing with them to the sounds +of a talking machine; he was usher at weddings, donning +a frock-coat, starched shirt, and new, tight shoes. +But then, even his courting was somehow caustic, offhand. +But what’s the use! Even when all by himself, looking +in the mirror as he whipped up his browny fleece with a +metallic comb, he would squint at himself like some monster. +His nose was squashed, his voice hoarse, his appearance +that of a convict,—the <i>moujiks</i> used to call him +a hangman.... No great honour, that, you would think. +But no,—he took a delight even in that. “The low-down +devil!” the <i>moujiks</i> would say. “Nothing ever pleases +him; everything ain’t his way, everything ain’t right!” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span>And he, with all his might, tried to justify these by-names. +“Who? Is it Shasha you mean by low-down?” +Roman would ask with indignation. “Why, you can +pave a pavement with blocks the likes of him! He’s a +fool, a play-actor, a born loafer,—and that’s all there is +to it! What’s he putting on airs for? What the devil +is he after?” But Shasha just looked on with a venomous +smile, and never let a word out. “Well, now, just take +a look at him,—do!” Roman was saying. “Just look +what he’s trying to make out of himself!” But Shasha +only knit his eye-brows, making them turn up higher and +higher; more and more rapidly did he bite his nails, and +by now was convinced even himself that something dreadful +was coming to a head within him. “Oh, father!” he +would say, as though unable to hold out. “Oh, but I +would like to tell you a certain thing!” Roman, despondent, +with sagging pouches under his eyes, would +smile like a martyr: “Well, what sort of a thing is it? +Eh? Well, now, say it?” “Who, me?” Shasha would +ask, throwing a glance at him from underneath his eyebrows. +“Yes, you!” “My ashes when I’m laid in my +grave shall know it all!” “But what is it that they’ll +know? Are you drunk, you good-for-nought?” +“Drunk!” Shasha would answer. “Drunk? I say nothing. +I al-ways say nothing!” And, almost weeping, +Roman would again advance upon him, like a bear; +would again catch him by the head, and, bending it +down, would drag him by the hair in an excruciating +transport.</p> + +<p>From his twentieth year to his twenty-fifth, Shasha +was almost never beaten,—unless it were sort of casually, +of course. But he made up for this with something else. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span>He sought other occasions for self-torture,—and of occasions +there were as many as he wanted.</p> + +<p>He married—and it was a splendid match—the daughter +of the manager of a great estate which belonged to +a nobleman; his bride was a laughing, freckled girl, +rather pretty. His marriage was celebrated magnificently. +The owners of the estate resided abroad; therefore +Shasha was able to go to the wedding ceremony in +their carriage, and the priest, out of respect to this carriage, +felicitated him upon his lawful marriage with especial +eloquence and servility, although it did seem to +Shasha that he was being made fun of. The wedding +feast, too, was held in the owners’ house. Wine flowed +like a river. Roman, amid the general clamour of delight, +started in to dance, shaking the parquetry, the +mirrors and the chandeliers. The owners’ flunky gave +an excellent imitation of a railroad train: he began with +a rumbling whistle through his fingers, then started in +beating out, with his feet, the slow and heavy clatter of +a train constantly increasing its momentum, and wound +up with a riotous gallop. The sexton, having imbibed +too much cognac at the feast, died on his way home. +The deacon, having fallen down in his own yard into +some half-liquid manure, was almost trampled to death +by his sheep. The nastiest of autumn dawns, pallidly +blue, looked in through the fog into the smoke-filled +seigniorial halls,—but the lights were still burning there; +the talking machine, now grown hoarse, was still gurgling +out now the <i>Lezguinka</i>, now <i>The Lancers</i>; the +ushers, all moist from the heat and their exertions, were +still yelling as they supervised the dances; while the +eyes of the young ladies grew glazed from fatigue, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</span>the soles of their white slippers flew off as they +danced.... But Shasha did not spare even his own high +celebration; having convinced himself that he was infernally +jealous of his young wife and a certain rather +young land-owner, he, feigning intoxication, suddenly +stepped upon the long train of her dress during a waltz, +and tore it off with a ripping sound. And after that he +made a rush for a knife, trying to cut his own throat, +and, upon being disarmed, he sobbed wildly, tearing off +his starched collar and his white tie, calling upon the +memory of his departed mother.... As for his behaviour +after the wedding,—Shasha did everything that +lay in his power to wreck his own domestic well-being, +and to hasten the ruin of Roman.</p> + +<p>Having attained the zenith, Roman was inevitably +bound, as is always the case in Russia, to start rolling +downward again, toward his former lowly lair. Soon +after the wedding it turned out that he was entirely entangled, +head and foot, in the toils of debt. He became +awesome. His grizzled beard turned white. His face +came to resemble a dirty-gray, milked-out udder. His +eyes died out. His belly, grown flabby, hung down. But +Shasha rejoiced malignantly: “I told you so! I told +you so!”—and was finishing him off; he rioted, kicked +up rows, demanded a winding up of Roman’s affairs. +And Roman, turning green from wrath, would rise up +against him like a bear, thirsting to maim him,—but he +no longer could; he no longer could! Crushed down by +the thought of approaching disgrace, of approaching +poverty, he took to drinking harder and harder. Having +lost all shame, he got his mistress (a cook and a +soldier’s wife), into his own house. Shasha, not being +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span>contented with his wife, lived with her too, just to spite +him. As for his wife, he used to exhaust her with his +jealousy and his scares; he used to stay away from the +house and to send <i>moujiks</i> with notes to her, upon which +notes would be written: “Forgive me in death; I send +my blessings to the children,”—and below there would +be drawn a grave with a cross. His wife was for a long +while deluged with tears. And then she got together with +the teacher, and now gave Shasha every reason to be +saying “All r-r-right! Only my ashes when I’m laid +in my grave will know it all!” The upshot of it all +was, that Roman was laid low by a stroke of paralysis; +that only the wind-mill beyond the settlement was left +out of all his wealth; that Shasha’s wife, taking the children +with her, fled to her father, who had gone to the +city of Skopin. The while Shasha, drinking deep of the +delicious draught of his misfortunes, treating everything +and everybody with merciless criticism and opprobrium, +was absenting himself in the village, drinking every bit +as hard as his father, she pulled up stakes and disappeared.</p> + +<p>Roman left the settlement for his mill beggared and +barely alive. Beggared and widowed, gnashing his teeth +with rage, Shasha followed him out of the village. What +with toiling and moiling, even the mill would not have +been a bad thing to live by. But how was Shasha to be +bothered with it! How could you expect him to have +the strength of getting up on his feet after the awful +finishing stroke fate had dealt him! Even formerly he,—not +understood, not appreciated, condemned to live in +the midst of enemies and ill-wishers,—had had but one +recourse left him: to say nothing, and again to say nothing, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span>and to say nothing without end. And now? Why, +he could have piled up thousands from this mill alone; +there would have been no getting into it for the carts +full of grain surrounding it,—if he only had two or three +hundred to get him a new shaft and new mill-stones.... +Yes, but where was a body to get that money? It’s only +into the hands of fools that good luck plays; but you +take an able, sensible man, and Fate will twist him into +a ram’s horn. Well, let it,—let it! “I say nothing,” +Shasha would say, malignantly rejoicing; “I al-ways say +nothing!”</p> + +<p>The broken trough,⁠<a id="FNanchor_14_15" href="#Footnote_14_15" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> familiar to him and appropriate to +his former status of a <i>moujik</i>, again appeared before +Roman in place of palatial chambers. Nor did the rub +lie at all in the fact that, instead of smoked sprats +and Tsimliyan wine, a big slice of black bread and a +wooden vessel of water turned up on his table,—he would +have eaten such food with his former relish; the rub was +in the torments of his pride,—the most cruel of all human +torments. In a big hut, leaning all to one side, with +an earthen floor and with holes in its corners, atop the +bare oven,—there did Roman sleep now. In the morning +he would crawl out beyond the threshold, with a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</span>tall staff in his hands. With pig-weeds and high rank +grass was the outside of the hut overgrown; stinging +nettles choked up the huge shell of the wide-open wind-mill. +All this stood out on the bare ridge of the plains, +nigh the highway. And Roman would go out to the +edge of the road, and would place his trembling, cold +paws upon his staff. He was without a hat; the wind +tangled up his gray, shaggy locks, his gray beard,—the +beard of a <i>moujik</i> Job. He was bare-footed, in short +drawers of striped ticking, in a long blouse filthy from +cinders and the rubbish of the oven. His legs were black +and thin, his torso huge and emaciated. Those whom he +had regaled and lectured at one time now rode past him. +And Roman—it was not for nothing that Shasha had +sprung from his loins—even rejoiced that folks saw him +in poverty, in disgrace, and he bowed to the ground before +them. And of evenings he would stand in the dark +hut before a little painted board hung up in a corner, +and with heavy sighs bowed before it still lower then he +did before men, saying his prayers now in a whisper, +now loudly—warmly and grievously thanking God for +all that He had visited upon him, a miserable, stricken +old man.... Shasha, now, enjoyed his humiliation in +a gayer fashion, in low-down inns, in low-down pot-houses, +drinking away the last scanty remnants of their +former prosperity, and paying for his long tongue by +being beaten....</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_14_15" href="#FNanchor_14_15" class="label">[14]</a> The reference here is to a famous folk-tale,—best known in +Pushkin’s version, <i>The Little Gold Fish</i>. A fisherman, having +caught a little gold fish, is promised the fulfillment of all his +wishes for its release. All his demands, instigated by his wife, +are granted, beginning with a substitution of a new trough for +a broken one, and up to the attainment of rank and wealth; but +finally the wife insists upon the fulfillment of a wish so insolent +that, upon his return from interviewing his benefactress, the +fisherman finds his wife sitting at the same old broken trough, +before his former humble hut. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>Then, from his twenty-fifth year on, his beatings became +regular, administered to him upon a previously +designated day; and no longer was he beaten the way his +father used to beat him; he was beaten with heels now, +until he would lose consciousness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</span></p> + +<p>The soldier’s wife remained faithful to the house of +Roman. She also moved to the mill. And when Roman +died—oh, how proud (with a malignantly joyous pride) +Shasha was over this calamity,—she passed into Shasha’s +hands openly. But in the meanwhile her lawful husband +had come home from service. She was as needful +to him as snow in the summertime; but never the less +he held it to be his most sacred duty and his inalienable +right to avenge his sullied honour. And he ingeniously +timed this revenge with the day of the folk-festival at +Limovo.</p> + +<p>Every year, on the fifteenth of July, on a great holiday +popularly called the Kiriki, a fair is held in Limovo. +Rain pours down in chill torrents; one is reminded of +the summer only by the rooks in the fields, by the height +and the density of the grains and the grasses, and also +by the sky-larks, that sing above them in the rain and +are blown aslant by the wind. But on the common at +Limovo a little nomadic city of tents is already springing +up. The traders from the city have arrived,—and it +is an unaccustomed, strange sight to see in the settlement +these city people, in their long-skirted coats. In +building upon the common, and making it congested, +they have changed the simple village picture with their +thronging, their big, strong carts laden with goods; together +with these goods they have brought the atmosphere +of an Asiatic bazaar; their samovars smoke, and +their braziers emit the fumes of frying mutton.... On +the fifteenth, since the early morn, they are already +standing behind their counters; while the <i>moujiks</i> with +their women-folk and little ones keep on streaming in, +flocking from all directions toward the village; they have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</span>dammed up the common so that there isn’t room for +a pin to fall. And above all this swarming, babel, hubbub, +and creak of carts, booms the festal pealing of bells, +summoning to mass.</p> + +<p>To the sound of these bells, in full view of all the +folks riding through the dirty by-lane that leads past +the wind-mill, Shasha is standing nigh his threshold; his +belt is loose, and, bending downward, he holds a wooden +vessel with water in one hand and with the other hand, +which is wet, he is rubbing his bearded, pock-marked face, +all puffy from sleep. How little does this thick-set <i>moujik</i> +in broken boots resemble the former Shasha! He appears +calmer than before, yet still more morose. His +hair is fearfully thick even now, but it is already shaggy, +like a <i>moujik’s</i>. Having washed himself, he tears his +hair apart with a wooden comb, combs out his tangled +round beard, clears his throat hoarsely, and eyes his little +mirror askance,—eyes his broad, porous face, with the +squashed nose. He hasn’t forgotten that he looks like +a hangman. And really, he does look like one,—especially +now. Having combed himself, he puts on a +blouse that he saves for gala occasions,—it is of red +calico, and its dye will come off on his body when +he will begin to perspire. On week days he becomes +stultified from ennui, from over-sleeping, from the fact +that no one any longer pays any attention to him, or +listens to him; his boasting about his former state, his +hints about that which was supposed to lurk within his +soul, and his foul tattling about his runaway wife, have +all long since palled upon everybody. But to-day is a +holiday; to-day people would look with curiosity upon +him, the erstwhile man of wealth now walking around on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</span>his uppers; to-day he would be playing before an enormous +crowd, to-day he would be fearfully beaten,—beaten +until he would lose conscience,—right before the +eyes of all this crowd.... And lo, he is already entering +into his rôle; he is already excited; his jaws are +tightly clenched; his eye-brows are distorted.... Having +togged himself out, he puts on a rusty cap, and, with +a constrained step, resolutely and steadily sets out for +the village.</p> + +<p>The strangest part of all is the piety with which he +begins this day. He goes directly toward the church, +and, without looking at anybody, but with all his being +feeling upon him the eyes of everybody surrounding him, +he bows and makes the sign of the cross with all his +might. In the church he shoves his way to the very +ambo, where at one time he had had his own rightful +place, and at that moment he is filled to the marrow of +his bones with contempt for the <i>moujiks</i>, reminding them +briefly and sternly, like one having authority, that it +wouldn’t be a bad idea for them to wake up and stand +aside. And the <i>moujiks</i> hastily comply. Glowering like +a bull from underneath his eye-brows at the officiating +priests and the icons, he prays frenziedly and austerely +until the very end of the mass, haughtily demonstrating +to everybody that he is the only one who knows just +the right time to bow and to make the sign of the cross. +Just as austerely does he walk through the fair after +the mass, proud of the fact that he had already had a +drink or two, that he could approach some trader in +his tent as an equal, shaking his hand and leaning over +the counter, scooping up a handful of polly-seeds and +bothering the trader with his conversations about the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</span>city, and about the state of trade.... He was also +proud of the fact that he could at times yell at the droves +of wenches, pressing one another against the counter, like +sheep; or at some <i>moujik</i> that, with a bag under his +arm,—there would be a young pig squirming around +in that bag,—has already tested all the penny whistles, +all the mouth organs, and could not, for the life of him, +decide which one to take. The people, pouring out of +the church, have flooded the common; the belfries are +pealing forth their chimes; the beggars are snufflingly +clamorous; the live-stock—which is also bought and sold +during the Kiriki—bleats and hee-haws; and in the dense +crowd, spitting out polly-seed shells and slipping up in +the mire between the tents, there are already many intoxicated +men. Shasha has already managed to drink +some more, and feels that the right time has come. Having +had his fill of talking with the traders, he goes with +resolute steps toward the carrousels. A countless multitude +of people has gathered there, watching, until their +heads, too, begin to go ’round and ’round, the wooden +horses and their riders. Almost all of Limovo is there, +and, towering a head taller above everybody, is the +soldier’s wife’s husband. Shasha’s hands grow cold; his +lips quiver; but he pretends not to notice his foe. He +approaches his acquaintances, pulls a bottle out of his +pocket, regales anybody who comes along, and drinks +himself. He talks a great deal, and loudly; he smokes, +and laughs unnaturally and malevolently; but all the +while he is on the alert, waiting.... And now, pretending +to be hopelessly drunk, in a new cap with the store’s +price tag still showing white upon it, clean shaven, well-fed, +with sleepy blue eyes, the soldier advances straight +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</span>upon Shasha, and with all his momentum, as though +without seeing him, strikes him in the chest with his +shoulder. Shasha, gritting his teeth, steps to one side +and continues his conversation. But the soldier comes +back, again passes him,—and once more hits him in the +chest with his shoulder! Whereupon, as though unable +to bear such insolence, Shasha distorts his face,—distorted +enough without that,—and drawls out through his +teeth:</p> + +<p>“E-eh, young fellow! Watch out that I don’t shove +you in my own way!”</p> + +<p>And the soldier, instantly checking his headlong progress, +suddenly staggers backward and roars out furiously:</p> + +<p>“What’s ’at?”</p> + +<p>Amid the hubbub and rumble of the fair, amid the +clanging of the carrousel bells and the delighted, hypocritically-sympathizing +shouts of the oh’ing and parting +crowd, the soldier stuns Shasha and draws his blood +with the very first blow. Shasha, trying to get his fingers +into the soldier’s mouth, true to an old usage of the +<i>moujiks</i>, in order to tear his lips, pounces upon him like +a beast,—and instantly falls down in the mire as if he +were dead, underneath the iron-shod heels that beat +heavily upon his chest, upon his shaggy head, upon his +nose, upon his eyes,—already glazed, as in a ram with +his throat cut. And all the folks “oh” and “ah” and wonder: +“There’s a queer, incomprehensible fellow for you! +Why, he knew, he knew beforehand how this matter +would end! Why did he go into it, then?” And truly,—why +did he? And toward what, in general, is he so insistently +and undeviatingly heading, as he devastates his +ruined dwelling from day to day, endeavouring to eradicate +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</span>even to the last atom the very traces of that which +was created, in such an unprecedented manner, by the +uncouth genius of Roman, and ceaselessly thirsts after +humiliations, disgrace, and beatings?</p> + +<p>Within the church enclosure, on the way to the door +of the chapel, there were some horrible specimens of humanity, +standing ranged in two files. In her yearning +for self-torture; in her yearning-loathing of the curbing +bit, of toil, of her mode of existence; in her infatuation +with all sorts of hideous visages (both those of the +tragedian and of the scaramouche), in her dark, criminal +desires, in her lack of will power, her eternal disquiet, +in her misfortunes, sorrows and poverty,—Russia breeds +these people from of old, and without end. In Limovo +alone some half-hundred of them gather. And what +faces are these, what heads! Just as if they had come +out of the crude wood-cuts made in Kiev, which depict +both fiends and the striving anchorites of the Mother-Desert. +There are ancients with such withered heads, +with such scant locks of long gray hair, with such noses, +as thin as thin can be, and with the slits of their unseeing +eyes so deeply fallen in, that they seem to have lain +for centuries in the caverns where they had been walled +up still in the time of the Kiev princes.... And they +had come out of there in half-rotted tatters; they had +thrown upon their remains their beggars’ wallets, fastening +them cross-wise behind their shoulders with odd bits +of rope, and had set off on their wanderings from one +end of Russia to the other, through her forests, over her +steppes, in the winds of her steppes....</p> + +<p>There are lantern-jawed blind men,—sturdy and squat +<i>moujiks</i>, that look just like pilloried convicts who have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</span>killed their scores of souls,—these have solid, square +heads, their faces seem to have been hacked out by an +axe, and their bare legs are swollen with livid blood and +are unnaturally short, even as their arms are. There are +common idiots, huge of shoulder and of leg. There are +malignant dwarfs with bird-like faces. There are wedge-headed +hunch-backs, who seem to be wearing pointed +caps made out of horse-hair. There are monstrous +marasmi, squatting back on their crooked legs like terriers. +There are foreheads squeezed in at the sides and +forming skulls that look like the cap of an acorn. There +are bony old women, without a vestige of a nose,—for +all the world like Death itself.... And all this mass, +prominently displaying its tatters, its sores and cankers, +vociferate in a Bulgarian, old-church sing-song, vociferates +in rough basses, and castrated altos, and indescribably +depraved tenors, about Lazarus and his sores, +about Alexei the Man of God, who also, thirsting after +poverty and martyrdom, did forsake his father’s roof, +“knowing not whither he went....”</p> + +<p>All these people, with their eye-brows writhing above +their dark eyes, with an intuition, an instinct, as keen +as that of certain primary sea creatures, instantly sense, +surmise, the approach of a generous hand; and by now +they have already grabbed up a not unconsiderable quantity +of bread-crusts, of round cracknels, and of the +<i>moujiks’</i> coppers, grown green from contact with their +execrable tobacco. After mass, with a chanting still more +vigorous and importunate, they spread through the sea +of the people, through the fair. The cripples, too, move +after them,—legless creatures, crawling on their bottoms +and on all fours, or lying in their eternal beds, in little +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</span>carts. Here is one of these little carts. In it is a little +bit of a man, about forty years of age, with his ears tied +up in a woman’s kerchief; his milky-blue eyes are calm, +and he has stuck out of his old rags a thin little hand,—violet-coloured, +six-fingered. He is pulled about by a +bright-eyed little lad, with exceedingly pointed little ears, +and with fox-like down upon his head. All around him +is a multitude of the fraternity, all of them, for some +reason or other, also tied up with kerchiefs. And out +of all this fraternity one <i>moujik</i> with a large white face +stands out he is all broken up, all maimed; there is no +bottom to him at all, and he has on but one fusty bast +shoe. Probably, he, too, had been beaten-up somewheres +as thoroughly as Shasha: his entire kerchief, his +ear, his neck and one shoulder are all in caked blood. +In his long bag there are pieces of raw meat, cooked bits +of mutton, bread crusts, and millet. His seat, now, is +sewn up with a bit of leather,—and twisting himself +all up, he squirms and starts off, on and on over the +mire, extending in front of him his unshod foot, +his leg half-bare, in lime-covered scabs that are +oozing with matter and pasted over with strips of +burdock.</p> + +<p>“Look ye, ye faithful,—look and behold ye! This is +reckoned, from of old, as the disease of leprosy!” a +freckled tatterdemallion beside him is shouting in a rapid +recitave, which is right rollicking....</p> + +<p>And it is toward these people that Shasha is heading. +He lives for some two or three years more in his mill; +he celebrates three or four fairs more; he again enters +into battle with the soldier three or four times: kind-hearted +folks bring him to by throwing water out of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</span>wooden tubs upon him as he lies without breath or +speech; without opening his eyes, he drags his wet head +over the ground, back and forth, and moans out painfully +through his clenched teeth.</p> + +<p>“All r-r-right, good folks! I say nothing! I al-ways +say nothing!”</p> + +<p>Then he is brought to the mill; he lies for two weeks +over the stove, little by little getting better, and soon he +is again traipsing around the low-down inns; he brags, +he lies, he curses out everybody and everything, he +smites his breast with his fists, threatening all his foes,—but +the soldier especially. But once the Kiriki turn out +to be unfortunate,—the soldier breaks Shasha’s arm with +his heel, and shatters the bridge of his nose, and knocks +out his eyes. Lo, now Shasha is both blind and a cripple. +The soldier’s wife abandons him; his mill, his land, +is taken by good folks for his debts. And now Shasha +is safe in harbour; now he is a fully-privileged member +of the horde of beggars that stand in the church enclosure +during the Kiriki,—bone of its bone, flesh of its +flesh. All in tatters, with a round and thick beard, with +his head clipped so closely that it looks like a hedge-hog, +he wildly distorts his eye-brows over his empty, drawn-over +sockets, and hoarsely bawls in time with the others +the beggars’ soul-wringing canticles. The chorus +sombrely rends the air, to the best of each member’s +ability, and the voices of the leader stand out resonantly, +as they bawl out every syllable:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">There once lived three sisters; there were once three Marys of Egypt,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">In three parts did they their wealth divide:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">One part was set aside for the blind and the sick;</div> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</span> <div class="verse indent0">One part was set aside for prisons, for dark dungeons;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The third part was set aside for churches, for cathedrals....</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Shasha’s harsh voice chimes in, soaring above that of +the others:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">The time will come</div> + <div class="verse indent0">When the earth, the sky shall be shaken;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The least stones shall crumble,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The Lord’s thrones shall tumble,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">The sun and the moon shall grow dim,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">And the Lord shall cause a river of fire to flow....</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>And blending, swelling, attaining a sinister and a +triumphant force, the entire choir becomes throatily, +sonorously clamorous:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">Mi-cha-el the Arch-angel,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Shall make all earthly creatures perish;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He shall blow his trumpets,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">He shall say to all mankind:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ye had your life and being,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Having your own free will;</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Ye did shun church-going,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">At matins ye were sleeping,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">At vespers ye were eating,—</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Your paradise stands ready:</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Fires never dying,</div> + <div class="verse indent0">Tortures past all bearing!</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p><i>1913.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="DEATH"> + DEATH + </h2> +</div> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">In</span> the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate!...</p> + +<p>This is a tale of the death of a prophet,—peace to +his ashes!—told that the doubters may be convinced of +the need for submission to The Leader.</p> + +<p>“We have never beheld Him, nor do we behold Him +now,” say they. But the sun is not at fault in that +vision has been denied to the eyes of a bat. The heart +of man aye seeketh faith and protection. But who +would seek protection from an owl? It is better to +dream of the shadow of the phœnix, even though the +phœnix may never have existed in this world. But the +protecting shadow of the Creator exists since the start of +time.</p> + +<p>The black-eared jackal slinks in the steps of a lion: +the lion knoweth where the prey is, and the black-eared +one findeth sustenance in the remnants of the lion’s repast. +Thus did the Hebrews follow their prophet out of +the land of Egypt. Through the favour of God did he +fulfill the mighty deed he had set out to do.</p> + +<p>In his infancy he had experienced the delight of +slumber, of awakening, of endearment. The daughter of +the king had rocked him in her arms, dark and rounded, +smooth as a snake, but as warm as fruit in the sun. +Joyously and intently did her dark eyes gaze upon him, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</span>as they shone above him; and impulsively did she kiss +him, pressing him to her cold breasts; she would pretend +to strangle him, as is the wont of all maidens. When recalling +the like, many a one exclaims within his heart: +“Why was I not a youth then!” But there is a time +for all things.</p> + +<p>The Pharaoh did bestow upon him a ring with a seal +of authority, and did clothe him in the garments of a +courtier. When the freshness of the morning is supplanted +by the warmth of the sun; when, in the marketplace, +the fennel is sprinkled to draw the scent of the +purchaser; when there is a smell of burning peat floating +from the chimneys, and a smell of fog from the direction +of the great river, upon which towering white sails +slowly float by, two abreast, the while a thin-bearded +buffalo, as dove-coloured and rough-skinned as a swine, +dully contemplates them, as he arises from the slime +near the bank,—at such a time the prophet, conscious +of his powers and alertness, did ride about in his +chariot, overlooking the labours in the fields, and had +the right to lash the lazy ones over the head with his +scourge, to yell at them until he became red in the face, +so that he might afterwards, in the sweet consciousness +of a duty fulfilled, repose in the light shade of the palms, +upon a dry dike among the canals.</p> + +<p>Having attained manhood, he spent ten years in wedlock. +He shared his couch with a woman rich and well-born; +he took his pleasure of her in the night,—in the +daytime his pleasure lay in his orders and his cares, in +drink and food, in the buoyancy of his body, that liked +equally well both the dry sultriness of an inner court, +emanating from its heated slabs of stone, and the cool +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</span>breath of a breeze throughout the house, blowing from +the river and from the blossoming gardens of its island. +He took pride in his children, in his household, in the +respect shown to him of all men. And he was happy, +even as many others are. But an unseen hand was making +taut the bow of his life; it was testing the bow-string +and the wood, preparing to loose the arrows of truth. +And ten years more did he pass in the striving of his +mind and his heart, in the silent acquirement of the +wisdom of Egypt; for the wall is preceded by the foundation, +and speech, by thought. And he hath said of +the heathen priests: “Ye men of folly! Slaves, tormented +by heat, may be forgiven for raising their arms +toward the sun, and supplicating it as God. But the +sun is not God. None may behold God. He is beyond +our comprehension. He may only be sensed. There is +but one God. He hath no offspring.” Whereupon the +Pharaoh was possessed by a fury, even as the <i>gour</i>, the +wild-ass, is overtaken by his madness. “Who is he that +dares to live and to believe without my sanction?” he +exclaimed. “He hath no precious rings upon his fingers, +nor is there a necklace about his neck. He is but my +slave. Therefore shall I set up a persecution of him +and of all his tribe. I shall flash like the lightning, I +shall deafen like thunder.” But the prophet gathered +his strength together, even as a man that standeth before +the steep ascent of a hill, and went upon his way, fearless +and assured.</p> + +<p>Musk is brayed, aloes are put in the fire, that they +might give forth their perfume. A diver would never +pluck a single pearl-bearing shell, were he to fear holding +in his breath as he plunges into the sea. And when +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</span>the time had come to lift up the heaviest stone for the +structure, to throw it up on the knee, to clasp it as firmly +as possible and to carry it, the prophet did lift it, so +strenuously that he felt a pain in his groin. And for +forty years did he carry it in the desert, ever at a strain, +ever enduring fatigue, and joyous in the consciousness +that he was working the will of God, and not of the +Pharaoh. And, having carried it to the required spot, to +the spot indicated by the Builder, he did cast down the +stone, so that it lay even and flush; and he did straighten +up, and did wipe the sweat from his face, with a trembling +arm that had grown weak and was aching to the +very shoulder.</p> + +<p>And the time came for him to die.</p> + +<p>He had attained to a knowledge of the veritable God. +He had become convinced that it was madness to represent +Him in the form of idols made of stone, of clay, and +of metal. God had put upon him the task of delivering +the Hebrew nation out of bondage and from the temptation +of idolatry,—and he had rent asunder the silken +nets of this world, he had risen up and had conquered +in the wrestling. God had put him to the proof,—for +forty years to be a chieftain for the refractory and the +weak, to command and instruct in a desert that held +nothing but hunger and sultriness. And for forty years +he had been as mighty as a king; as tireless as a day-labourer +burthened with a multitude of children; as +needy as a shepherd; brawny and tall as a wrestler, strong +and tawny as a lion. His body, girt only about the +loins with an animal pelt, had become black from the +sun and the wind, while his feet had become rough and +callous, like those of a camel. In his old age he had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</span>become awesome to men, and none of them deemed +him mortal. But his hour did approach at last.</p> + +<p>O ye who hearken! In The Book it is written: +“All are conceived in the lap of truth,—it is the parents +that make Hebrews, Christians, Fire-Worshippers out of +the children.” But a sage is like a blind man: he feeleth +every stone in his path, choosing the path that is the +right one; he raiseth his face upward, yearning for the +sole source of light and warmth. He considereth life, +and he considereth death, lessening his fear before the +latter. And there have been not a few of those who have +received the chalice of the inevitable with equanimity; +there have also been those who have said: “It is even as +sweet as the chalice of life.” However, it is but the fool +that yearneth for the chalice of death during life,—such +a one is loathsome to behold. But he also is a fool that +giveth no thought to the inevitable, that forgetteth +that all mortals ought to have but one Beloved, Who +possesseth clemency and demandeth submission. O +ye who hearken! Hearken attentively, as man ought +always to hearken to man; and, as ye hearken, reflect. +For, as we speak, we are but mixing the good words of +others with the passable ones of our own, dealing with +that which is foreign to none of us; and the purpose of +our speech is consolation.</p> + +<p>In The Book it is written: “I that am God am +nearer to man than the artery that sendeth him slumber.” +God is compassionate. He knoweth what is good for us +and what is bad. He did create us mortal, yet we think +of resisting death. Vain striving! Have ye heard at +what cost Iscander the Two-Horned attained the Land of +Darkness? And yet, he did not succeed in quaffing of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</span>the water of eternal life, of which he had been told: It +is to be found in the Land of Darkness. The Angel of the +Winds is not perturbed by the fact that his wings may +extinguish the lamp of some poor widow. The Messenger +of Death heeds neither the prayer of a shepherd nor +the outcry of a sovereign. Bide a while: earth shall +devour the brains within our skulls, that are now filled +with projects. Death is no Mogul, and thou art no +Atabek-Abou-Bekr: thou canst not ransom thyself with +gold from Death. Therefore, seek ye consolation.</p> + +<p>The prophet did oppose the will of God in the desert, +and heavy as his punishment for his disobedience: God +forbade him to enter the Promised Land. The prophet +did wax wroth in spirit that he was mortal, and that +death was already nigh him, for he was old. Spake he: +“I shall do single combat with it.” At noonday, passing +through the camp of the Hebrews in the mountains +of Moab, he did look, and beheld not his shadow upon the +white stones nigh him. And he was seized with a fit of +trembling from fear, and his head was confused, like that +of a man that is fever-stricken. Thereupon he did go +toward his tent, with the steps of a wounded beast +advancing upon its adversary. And he girt a sword +about him, and did command food to be brought to him. +And he did eat much thereof, full greedily, till that he +was sated. And he did feel aches and nausea, as though +from poison, as though from the fruit plucked from the +tree of hell; and he did wax green in the face, and was +bathed in sweat, even as a woman in travail; and he did +lie down upon the ground, crying out wildly: “Behold, +I am dying,—bare your swords and arise in my defense!” +Thus did he cry out upon the first day. On the second, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</span>his aches did wax greater, and he began to implore, +moaning and wrathful: “Summon a physician for me!” +But when the physician had revealed his impotence, and +the third day had come, the prophet uttered low: “Oh, +have mercy upon me! Death is unconquerable!” And +he did grow weaker, and fell into a slumber, and did sleep +through all the day, and his aches did depart from him. +And, having come to, he beheld that it was already +night and that he was alone, and again did he feel the +delight of living, and the sorrow of parting with life. +Whereupon two dark angels did enter in to him, that they +might console and prepare him.</p> + +<p>One sat down at the head of the couch; the other, at +the feet of the prophet. “Speak!” said they. But he +kept silent and made no reply to them, for he was in deep +thought. He gazed out into the night, beyond the +raised side of the tent, sensing their presence with dread, +for truth had not yet entered within all his veins. And +it was so quiet in the tent and the desert that all the +three could hear the rustling of the hot wind as it swept +by in the darkness. And the stars were flaming +sombrely, as on all sultry nights.</p> + +<p>“God is compassionate to all His creatures,” spake the +angel who was sitting at the head of the prophet’s couch.</p> + +<p>“Yet here is a man in torment; he was dying, and is +dying now,” spake the angel sitting at the prophet’s +feet.</p> + +<p>They wanted to test the prophet, but he understood +this. And he made answer, in his thoughts:</p> + +<p>“This was not death, but an illness, a chastisement. Is +it not better to think thus? For he that hath tasted of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</span>death cannot speak about it. We know not what it is.”</p> + +<p>“The sun is the source of life,” spake the angel sitting +at the head of the couch.</p> + +<p>“But then, it is also as deadly as the horned viper,” +spake the angel seated opposite him.</p> + +<p>They wanted to test the prophet, but he understood +this. And he made answer, in his thoughts:</p> + +<p>“We do not know God’s purpose. But He is benign, +and His purpose also is benign. Is it not better to think +thus? Man ought to dedicate his every moment to life, +recalling death only that he may weigh all his deeds upon +its scales, and that he may meet the inevitable hour +without fear. How would he that trades know that he is +dealing fairly with him that buys, how would he know +that he is giving him that which is his due, if there were +no scales? How would a man spend his day, if his heart +were never to be forsaken by indignation over the +thought that the sun would sink at its wonted hour, and +if he were to be possessed with the desire of preventing +it? He would be insane and futile.”</p> + +<p>“The slumber of the dead is sweet,” spake the angel +sitting at the head of the couch.</p> + +<p>“But, just now, a man has died in the camp of the +Hebrews,—happy, young, beloved,” spake the angel +seated opposite him. “Just hearken: there is the rustle +of the hot wind; the stars flame sombrely; and the +hyænas whine and whimper in their evil joy, hurriedly +digging open the grave, sniffing its stench and anticipating +the devouring of his entrails. But the +sorrow of the dead man’s near ones is more dreadful +than the grave itself.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</span></p> + +<p>They wanted to test the prophet, and they did succeed +in wounding his heart with the last. But, in his +thoughts, he spake to them:</p> + +<p>“I am recalling every moment of my life; every +moment of my sweet childhood, my joyous youth, my +laborious manhood—and I lament them. Ye speak of the +grave,—and my hands grow chill from fear. I beseech +ye,—console me not, for consolation depriveth one of +courage. I beseech ye,—remind me not of the flesh, for +it will turn to corruption. Is it not better to think +otherwise? Even his halting place, in a vale sheltered +from the winds, where he may have passed but a day, a +man will abandon with regret; but it is his duty to go on, +if to go on be necessary. Speaking with dread of +the grave, are we not speaking in the words of the +ancients, that knew the flesh, but knew not God and the +immortality of souls? Dreadful is the majesty of the +deeds of God. Do we not mistake this dread for the +dread of death? Say ye to yourselves more often: ‘The +hour of death is not as dreadful as we deem it. Else, +neither the universe nor man could exist.’”</p> + +<p>“He is a sage,” spake the angel sitting at the head of +the couch.</p> + +<p>“He was refractory and arrogant,” spake the angel +seated opposite the first. “He dreamed of wrestling with +God,—and now he shall be punished anew: never a mortal +shall point to his grave in the mountains of Moab. And +thereby shall his glory be diminished.”</p> + +<p>They wanted to test the prophet, but he understood, and +answered them unwaveringly:</p> + +<p>“Goodly is the glory of those that merit glory. But +that which has earned diminution, must be diminished. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</span>For even the most glorious of men would rejoice only in +the true measure of glory.”</p> + +<p>Thereupon the angels, struck by the wisdom of the +prophet, did exclaim, as they arose from their places:</p> + +<p>“Truly, God Himself shall console thee! We can but +bow down before thee.”</p> + +<p>They were dark, and they were standing in a dark tent. +But their eyes shone, and the prophet beheld the starry +radiance of their eyes. They retreated into the night, like +shades, barely stooping at the doorway of the tent. As +for the prophet, he remained alone in the midst of the +night and the desert, lying upon the earth. And when +the sun had arisen from behind the craggy mountains, and +it grew light and hot within the tent, the prophet, feeling +a great longing to rest amid coolness, did forsake his +couch, and did bend his steps toward a vale in the mountains, +seeking shade. But there was none even in the vale +by now. However, in the inmost recesses of one mountain +he came upon a cavern. And behold, two captives +were hacking away with sharp picks at the entrance into +this cavern. The stones at the entrance were as white as +the snow upon mountain-tops, and were hot from the sun. +And the black hair of the copper-faced captives, as well +as the cloths about their loins, were wet with perspiration. +But two fresh fruits, two apples, were lying upon +a stone near the cavern, while in the cavern itself it was +dark and cool. And the labourers, lowering their picks, +spake, saying:</p> + +<p>“We greet thee, lord and chieftain, in the name of God, +the Merciful, the Compassionate. Lo, we have finished +our labour.”</p> + +<p>And the prophet asked them:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</span></p> + +<p>“Who are ye, and what were ye doing?”</p> + +<p>To which they did answer:</p> + +<p>“We were preparing a treasure-chamber for the king. +Enter, look about thee, and rest from thy journey and the +heat. Refresh thy lips with the fruits, and tell us which +is the sweeter and riper one.”</p> + +<p>And, having entered the cavern, the prophet did sit down +upon a stone couch nigh one of its walls, and did feel +the shade and the coolness. And, having bitten of the +first fruit, he spake:</p> + +<p>“Verily, this is life itself: I am drinking water from a +spring, I scent the pleasant odours of the flowers of the +fields, and I feel the taste of aspen honey. I am vigorous, +and I am strong.”</p> + +<p>And, having bitten of the second, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Verily, there is nothing to compare with this: I am +drinking the wines of paradise, sealed with a seal of +musk, blended with the water of a well-spring that +quencheth the thirst of those who draw nigh to The +Eternal. I scent the fragrance of a celestial garden, and +feel the taste of the honey of its flowers,—nor hath this +honey any bitter tang. And lo, a blessed drowsiness +befogs my head. Awake me not, O ye captives, till that +my time be fulfilled.”</p> + +<p>And the captives,—they were angels, the captives of +God,—quietly went on, as his speech died away:</p> + +<p>“Till that the sun,” uttered the first, reading the <i>Sura</i>, +the Canticle, of the Great Tidings—“till that the sun be +bent, till that the stars rain down from the sky, and the +mountains remove from their place, and the she-camels be +abandoned, and the seas do boil up....”</p> + +<p>“I am S’in,” uttered the second, reading the <i>Sura</i> for +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</span>the Departing. “Glory be to Him that reigneth over all +the universe! Ye all shall return to Him!...”</p> + +<p>And, hearing their whispers, but without catching +their words, the prophet did lie down upon the couch, and +did repose in the sleep of death, knowing not thereof. +And the angels did wall up the entrance to the sepulchral +cavern, and did depart to the Master Who had sent them. +And the prophet was joined to his people, having had +his fill of days, and without perceiving the end thereof. +Never a man, even to this day, has yet contemplated his +tomb in the mountains of Moab. But his wisdom is imprinted +in the memory of all peoples, and is recorded in +Heaven in <i>Ghilliun</i>, the Book Eternal.</p> + +<p>The Sheikh Saadi,—may his name be blessed!—the +Sheikh Saadi,—many of his pearls have we strung side +by side with our own, upon the string of a good style!—hath +told us of a man who had tasted the bliss of drawing +nigh The Beloved. This man had been lost in contemplation; +but when he had come back to the everyday +world, he was asked with a kindly mockery: “But +where are the flowers from the garden of your reverie?” +And the man made answer: “I desired to bring back +the whole skirt of my coat full of roses for my friends; +but, when I had drawn nigh the rose-bush, I was so intoxicated +by its fragrance that I did release it out of my +hands.”</p> + +<p>Let him that can connect the story of the poet with +our own.</p> + +<p>Peace and joy be the portion of all that dwell upon +this earth!</p> + +<p><i>1911.</i></p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</span></p> + + + <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_GENTLEMAN_FROM"> + THE GENTLEMAN FROM + SAN FRANCISCO + </h2> +</div> + +<p class="right"> + <i>Alas, alas that great city Babylon,<br> + that mighty city!</i> +</p> + +<p class="right allsmcap"> + THE APOCALYPSE +</p> + + +<p class="dropcap"><span class="upper-case">The</span> gentleman from San Francisco—neither at +Naples nor at Capri had any one remembered his +name—was going to the Old World for two whole +years, with wife and daughter, solely for the sake of +pleasure.</p> + +<p>He was firmly convinced that he was fully entitled to +rest, to pleasure, to prolonged and comfortable travel, and +to not a little else besides. For such a conviction he had +his reasons,—that, in the first place, he was rich, and, in +the second, that he was only now beginning to live, despite +his eight and fifty years. Until now he had not +lived, but had merely existed,—not at all badly, it is true, +but, never the less, putting all his hopes on the future. +He had laboured with never a pause for rest,—the coolies, +whom he had imported by whole thousands, well knew +what this meant!—and finally he saw that much had already +been accomplished, that he had almost come abreast +of those whom he had at one time set out to emulate, and +he decided to enjoy breathing space. It was a custom +among the class of people to which he belonged to commence +their enjoyment of life with a journey to Europe, +to India, to Egypt. He, too, proposed to do the same. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</span>Of course he desired, first of all, to reward himself for +his years of toil; however, he rejoiced on account of his +wife and daughter as well. His wife had never been distinguished +for any special sensitiveness to new impressions,—but +then, all elderly American women are fervid +travellers. As for his daughter,—a girl no longer in her +first youth, and somewhat sickly,—travel was a downright +necessity for her: to say nothing of the benefit to her +health, were there no fortuitous encounters during travels? +It is while travelling that one may at times sit at table +with a <i>milliardaire</i>, or scrutinize frescoes by his side.</p> + +<p>The itinerary worked out by the gentleman from San +Francisco was an extensive one. In December and January +he hoped to enjoy the sun of Southern Italy, the +monuments of antiquity, the <i>tarantella</i>, the serenades of +strolling singers, and that which men of his age relish +with the utmost <i>finesse</i>: the love of little, youthful Neapolitaines, +even though it be given not entirely without +ulterior motives; he contemplated spending the Carnival +in Nice, in Monte Carlo, whither the very pick of society +gravitates at that time,—that very society upon which +all the benefits of civilization depend: not merely the +cut of tuxedos, but, as well, the stability of thrones, and +the declaration of wars, and the prosperity of hotels,—Monte +Carlo, where some give themselves up with passion +to automobile and sail races; others to roulette; a +third group to that which it is the custom to call flirting; +a fourth, to trap-shooting, in which the pigeons, released +from their cotes, soar up most gracefully above emerald-green +swards, against the background of a sea that is the +colour of forget-me-nots,—only, in the same minute, to +strike against the ground as little, crumpled clods of white.... +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</span>The beginning of March he wanted to devote to +Florence; about the time of the Passion of Our Lord to +arrive at Rome, in order to hear the <i>Miserere</i> there; his +plans also embraced Venice, and Paris, and bull-fighting +in Seville, and sea-bathing in the British Islands, and +Athens, and Constantinople, and Palestine, and Egypt, +and even Japan,—of course, be it understood, already on +the return trip.... And everything went very well at +first.</p> + +<p>It was the end of November; almost as far as Gibraltar +it was necessary to navigate now through an icy murk, +now amidst a blizzard of wet snow; but the ship sailed in +all safety and even without rolling; the passengers the +steamer was carrying proved to be many, and all of +them people of note; the ship—the famous <i>Atlantida</i>—resembled +the most expensive of European hotels, with all +conveniences: an all-night bar, Turkish baths, a newspaper +of its own,—and life upon it flowed in accordance +with a most complicated system of regulations: people got +up early, to the sounds of bugles, stridently resounding +through the corridors at that dark hour when day was so +slowly and inimically dawning over the grayish-green +desert of waters, ponderously turbulent in the mist. +Putting on their flannel pyjamas, the passengers drank +coffee, chocolate, cocoa; then they got into marble baths, +did their exercises, inducing an appetite and a sense of +well-being, performed their toilet for the day, and went to +breakfast. Until eleven one was supposed to promenade +the decks vigorously, inhaling the fresh coolness of the +ocean, or to play at shuffle-board and other games for the +sake of arousing the appetite anew, and, at eleven, to seek +sustenance in bouillon and sandwiches; having refreshed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</span>themselves, the passengers perused their newspaper with +gusto and calmly awaited lunch, a meal still more nourishing +and varied than the breakfast. The next two +hours were sacred to repose,—the decks were then encumbered +with <i>chaises longues</i>, upon which the travellers +reclined, covered up with plaids, contemplating the cloud-flecked +sky and the foaming hummocks flashing by over +the side, or else pleasantly dozing off; at five o’clock, refreshed +and put in good spirits, they were drenched with +strong fragrant tea, served with cookies; at seven they +were apprized by bugle signals of a dinner of nine +courses.... And thereupon the gentleman from San +Francisco, in an access of animal spirits, would hurry to +his resplendent <i>cabine de luxe</i>, to dress.</p> + +<p>In the evening the tiers of the <i>Atlantida</i> gaped through +the dusk as though they were fiery, countless eyes, and a +great multitude of servants worked with especial feverishness +in the kitchens, sculleries, and wine vaults. The +ocean, heaving on the other side of the walls, was awesome; +but none gave it a thought, firmly believing it under +the sway of the captain,—a red-haired, man of monstrous +bulk and ponderousness, always seeming sleepy, +resembling, in his uniform frock-coat, with its golden +chevrons, an enormous idol; it was only very rarely that +he left his mysterious quarters to appear in public. A +siren on the forecastle howled every minute in hellish +sullenness and whined in frenzied malice, but not many of +the diners heard the siren,—it was drowned by the strains +of a splendid stringed orchestra, playing exquisitely and +ceaselessly in the two-tiered hall, decorated with marble, +its floors covered with velvet rugs; festively flooded with +the lights of crystal lustres and gilded <i>girandoles</i>, filled +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</span>to overflowing with diamond-bedecked ladies in <i>décoletté</i> +and men in tuxedos, graceful waiters and deferent <i>maitres +d’hôtel</i>,—among whom one, who took orders for wines exclusively, +even walked about with a chain around his +neck, like a lord mayor. A tuxedo and perfect linen made +the gentleman from San Francisco appear very much +younger. Spare, not tall, clumsily but strongly built, +groomed until he shone and moderately animated, he +sat in the aureate-pearly refulgence of this palatial room, +at a table with a bottle of amber Johannesberg, with countless +goblets, small and large, of the thinnest glass, with a +curly bouquet of curly hyacinths. There was something +of the Mongol about his yellowish face with clipped silvery +moustache; his large teeth gleamed with gold fillings; +his stalwart, bald head glistened like old ivory. Rich, +yet in keeping with her years, was the dress of his wife,—a +big woman, expansive and calm; elaborate, yet light +and diaphanous, with an innocent frankness, was that of +his daughter,—tall, slender, with magnificent hair, exquisitely +dressed, with breath aromatic from violet cachous +and with the tenderest of tiny, rosy pimples about +her lips and between her shoulder blades, just the least +bit powdered.... The dinner lasted for two whole hours, +while after dinner there was dancing in the ball room, +during which the men,—the gentleman from San Francisco +among their number, of course,—with their feet +cocked up, determined, upon the basis of the latest political +and stock-exchange news, the destinies of nations, +smoking Habana cigars and drinking <i>liqueurs</i> until they +were crimson in the face, seated in the bar, where the +waiters were negroes in red jackets, the whites of their +eyes resembling hard boiled eggs with the shell off. The +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</span>ocean, with a dull roar, was moiling in black mountains +on the other side of the wall; the snow-gale whistled +mightily through the sodden rigging; the whole steamer +quivered as it mastered both the gale and the mountains, +sundering to either side, as though with a plough, their +shifting masses, that again and again boiled up and reared +high, with tails of foam; the siren, stifled by the fog, was +moaning with a deathly anguish; the lookouts up in their +crow’s-nest froze from the cold and grew dazed from +straining their attention beyond their strength. Like to +the grim and sultry depths of the infernal regions, like to +their ultimate, their ninth circle, was the womb of the +steamer, below the water line,—that womb where dully +gurgled the gigantic furnaces, devouring with their incandescent +maws mountains of hard coal, cast into them +by men stripped to the waist, purple from the flames, and +with smarting, filthy sweat pouring over them; whereas +here, in the bar, men threw their legs over the arms of +their chairs with never a care, sipping cognac and <i>liqueurs</i>, +and were wafted among clouds of spicy smoke as they +indulged in well-turned conversation; in the ball room +everything was radiant with light and warmth and joy; +the dancing couples were now awhirl in waltzes, now +twisting in the tango,—and the music insistently, in some +delectably-shameless melancholy, was suppliant always of +the one, always of the same thing.... There was an ambassador +among this brilliant throng,—a lean, modest +little old man; there was a great man of riches,—clean-shaven, +lanky, of indeterminate years, and with the appearance +of a prelate, in his dress-coat of an old-fashioned +cut; there was a well-known Spanish writer; there was a +world-celebrated beauty, already just the very least trifle +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</span>faded and of an unenviable morality; there was an exquisite +couple in love with each other, whom all watched +with curiosity and whose happiness was unconcealed: <i>he</i> +danced only with <i>her</i>; sang—and with great ability—only +to <i>her</i> accompaniment; and everything they did was carried +out so charmingly, that the captain was the only one +who knew that this pair was hired by Lloyd’s to play at +love for a good figure, and that they had been sailing for +a long time, now on one ship, now on another.</p> + +<p>At Gibraltar everybody was gladdened by the sun,—it +seemed to be early spring; a new passenger, whose person +aroused the general interest, made his appearance on +board the <i>Atlantida</i>,—he was the hereditary prince of +a certain Asiatic kingdom, travelling incognito; a little +man who somehow seemed to be all made of wood, even +though he was alert in his movements; broad of face, with +narrow eyes, in gold-rimmed spectacles; a trifle unpleasant +through the fact that his skin showed through his coarse +black moustache like that of a cadaver; on the whole, +however, he was charming, unpretentious, and modest. +On the Mediterranean Sea there was a whiff of winter +again; the billows ran high, and were as multi-coloured as +the tail of a peacock; they had snowy-white crests, lashed +up—although the sun was sparkling brightly and the sky +was perfectly clear—by a <i>tramontana</i>, a chill northern +wind from beyond the mountains, that was joyously and +madly rushing to meet the ship.... Then, on the second +day, the sky began to pale, the horizon became covered +with mist, land was nearing; Ischia, Capri appeared; +through the binoculars Naples—lumps of sugar strewn at +the foot of some dove-coloured mass—could be seen; +while over it and this dove-coloured thing were visible +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</span>the ridges of distant mountains, vaguely glimmering with +the dead whiteness of snows. There was a great number +of people on deck; many of the ladies and gentlemen had +already put on short, light fur coats, with the fur outside; +Chinese boys, never contradictory and never speaking +above a whisper, bow-legged striplings with pitch-black +queues reaching to their heels and with eye-lashes as long +and thick as those of young girls, were already dragging, +little by little, sundry plaids, canes, and portmanteaux +and grips of alligator hide toward the companion-ways.... +The daughter of the gentleman from San Francisco +was standing beside the prince, who had been, through a +fortuitous circumstance, presented to her yesterday evening, +and she pretended to be looking intently into the +distance, in a direction he was pointing out to her, telling, +explaining something or other to her, hurriedly and +quietly. On account of his height he seemed a boy by +contrast with others,—he was queer and not at all prepossessing +of person, with his spectacles, his derby, his +English great coat, while his scanty moustache looked +just as if it were of horse-hair, and the swarthy, thin skin +seemed to be drawn tightly over his face, and somehow +had the appearance of being lacquered,—but the young +girl was listening to him, without understanding, in her +agitation, what he was saying; her heart was thumping +from an incomprehensible rapture before his presence +and from pride that he was speaking with her, and not +some other; everything about him that was different from +others,—his lean hands, his clear skin, under which flowed +the ancient blood of kings, even his altogether unpretentious, +yet somehow distinctively neat, European dress,—everything +held a secret, inexplicable charm, evoked a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</span>feeling of amorousness. As for the gentleman from San +Francisco himself,—he, in a high silk hat, in gray spats +over patent-leather shoes, kept on glancing at the famous +beauty, who was standing beside him,—a tall blonde of +striking figure, her eyes were painted in the latest Parisian +fashion; she was holding a diminutive, hunched-up, +mangy lap dog on a silver chain and was chattering to it +without cease. And the daughter, in some vague embarrassment, +tried not to notice her father.</p> + +<p>Like all Americans of means, he was very generous on +his travels, and, like all of them, believed in the full +sincerity and good-will of those who brought him food +and drink with such solicitude, who served him from +morn till night, forestalling his least wish; of those who +guarded his cleanliness and rest, lugged his things around, +summoned porters for him, delivered his trunks to hotels. +Thus had it been everywhere, thus had it been on the ship, +and thus was it to be in Naples as well. Naples grew, +and drew nearer; the musicians, the brass of their instruments +flashing, had already clustered upon the deck, and +suddenly deafened everybody with the triumphant strains +of a march; the gigantic captain, in his full dress uniform, +appeared upon his stage, and, like a condescending heathen +god, waved his hand amiably to the passengers,—and +to the gentleman from San Francisco it seemed that +it was for him alone that the march so beloved by proud +America was thundering, that it was he whom the captain +was felicitating upon a safe arrival. And every other +passenger felt similarly about himself—or herself. And +when the <i>Atlantida</i> did finally enter the harbour, had +heaved to at the wharf with her many-tiered mass, black +with people, and the gang-planks clattered down,—what +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</span>a multitude of porters and their helpers in caps with gold +braid, what a multitude of different <i>commissionaires</i>, +whistling gamins, and strapping ragamuffins with packets +of coloured postal cards in their hands, made a rush toward +the gentleman from San Francisco, with offers of +their services! And he smiled, with a kindly contemptuousness, +at these ragamuffins, as he went toward the automobile +of precisely that hotel where there was a possibility +of the prince’s stopping as well, and drawled through +his teeth, now in English, now in Italian:</p> + +<p>“Go away!⁠<a id="FNanchor_*_A" href="#Footnote_*_16" class="fnanchor">[*]</a> <i>Via!</i>”</p> + +<p>Life at Naples at once assumed its wonted, ordered +current: in the early morning, breakfast in the sombre +dining room with its damp draught from windows opening +on some sort of a stony little garden; the sky was +usually overcast, holding out but little promise, and there +was the usual crowd of guides at the door of the vestibule; +then came the first smiles of a warm, rosy sun; +there was, from the high hanging balcony, a view of +Vesuvius, enveloped to its foot by radiant morning +mists, and of silver-and-pearl eddies on the surface of the +Bay, and of the delicate contour of Capri against the horizon; +one could see tiny burros, harnessed in twos to little +carts, running down below over the quay, sticky with mire, +and detachments of diminutive soldiers, marching off to +somewhere or other to lively and exhilarating music. +Next came the procession to the waiting automobile and +the slow progress through populous, narrow, and damp +corridors of streets, between tall, many-windowed houses; +the inspection of lifelessly-clean museums, evenly and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</span>pleasantly, yet bleakly, lit, seemingly illuminated by +snow; or of cool churches, smelling of wax, which everywhere +and always contain the same things: a majestic +portal, screened by a heavy curtain of leather, and inside,—silence, +empty vastness, unobtrusive little flames +of a seven-branched candle-stick glowing redly in the distant +depths, on an altar bedecked with laces; a solitary +old woman among the dark wooden pews; slippery tombstones +underfoot; and somebody’s <i>Descent from the Cross</i>,—inevitably +a celebrated one. At one o’clock there was +luncheon upon the mountain of San Martino, where, toward +noon, gathered not a few people of the very first +quality, and where the daughter of the gentleman from +San Francisco had once almost fainted away for joy, because +she thought she saw the prince sitting in the hall, +although she already knew through the newspapers that +he had left for a temporary stay at Rome. At five came +tea at the hotel, in the showy salon, so cosy with its rugs +and flaming fireplaces; and after that it was already time +to get ready for dinner,—and once more came the mighty, +compelling reverberation of the gong through all the +stories; once more the processions in Indian file of ladies +in <i>décoletté</i>, rustling in their silks upon the staircases +and reflected in all the mirrors; once more the palatial dining +room, widely and hospitably opened, and the red +jackets of the musicians upon their platform, and the +black cluster of waiters about the <i>maitre d’hôtel</i>, who, +with a skill out of the ordinary, was ladling some sort +of a thick, roseate soup into plates.... The dinners, as +everywhere else, were the crowning glory of each day; the +guests dressed for them as for a rout, and these dinners +were so abundant in edibles, and wines, and mineral +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</span>waters, and sweets, and fruits, that toward eleven o’clock +at night the chambermaids were distributing through all +the corridors rubber bags with hot water to warm sundry +stomachs.</p> + +<p>However, the December of that year proved to be not +altogether a successful one for Naples; the porters grew +confused when one talked with them of the weather, and +merely shrugged their shoulders guiltily, muttering that +they could not recall such another year,—although it was +not the first year that they had been forced to mutter +this, and to urge in extenuation that “something terrible +is happening everywhere”; there were unheard of storms +and torrents of rain on the Riviera; there was snow in +Athens; Etna was also all snowed over and was aglow +of nights; tourists were fleeing from Palermo in all directions, +escaping from the cold. The morning sun deceived +the Neapolitans every day that winter: toward +noon the sky became gray and a fine rain began falling, +but growing heavier and colder all the time; at such +times the palms near the entrance of the hotel glistened as +though they were of tin, the town seemed especially dirty +and cramped, the museums exceedingly alike; the cigar +stumps of the corpulent cabmen, whose rubber-coats +flapped in the wind like wings, seemed to have an insufferable +stench, while the energetic snapping of their whips +over their scrawny-necked nags was patently false; the +footgear of the <i>signori</i> sweeping the rails of the tramways +seemed horrible; the women, splashing through the mud, +their black-haired heads bared to the rain, appeared +hideously short-legged; as for the dampness, and the +stench of putrid fish from the sea foaming at the quay,—they +were a matter of course. The gentleman and the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</span>lady from San Francisco began quarreling in the morning; +their daughter either walked about pale, with a headache, +or, coming to life again, went into raptures over everything, +and was, at such times both charming and beautiful: +beautiful were those tender and complex emotions +which had been awakened within her by meeting that +homely man through whose veins flowed uncommon +blood; for, after all is said and done, perhaps it is of no +real importance just what it is, precisely, that awakens a +maiden’s soul,—whether it be money, or fame, or illustrious +ancestry....</p> + +<p>Everybody affirmed that things were entirely different +in Sorrento, in Capri,—there it was both warmer and +sunnier, and the lemons were in blossom, and the customs +were more honest, and the wine was more natural. And +so the family from San Francisco determined to set out +with all its trunks to Capri, and, after seeing it all, after +treading the stones where the palace of Tiberius had once +stood, after visiting the faery-like caverns of the Azure +Grotto, and hearing the bag-pipers of Abruzzi, who for a +whole month preceding Christmas wander over the island +and sing the praises of the Virgin Mary, they meant to +settle in Sorrento.</p> + +<p>On the day of departure,—a most memorable one for +the family from San Francisco!—there was no sun from +the early morning. A heavy fog hid Vesuvius to the very +base; this gray fog spread low over the leaden heaving of +the sea that was lost to the eye at a distance of a half a +mile. Capri was entirely invisible,—as though there had +never been such a thing in the world. And the little +steamer that set out for it was so tossed from side to side +that the family from San Francisco was laid prostrate +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</span>upon the divans in the sorry general cabin of this tub, +their feet wrapped up in plaids, and their eyes closed from +nausea. Mrs. suffered,—so she thought,—more than +anybody; she was overcome by sea-sickness several times; +it seemed to her that she was dying, whereas the stewardess, +who always ran up to her with a small basin,—she had +been, for many years, day in and day out, rolling on these +waves, in freezing weather and in torrid, and yet was still +tireless and kind to everybody,—merely laughed. Miss +was dreadfully pale and held a slice of lemon between +her teeth; now she could not have been cheered +even by the hope of a chance encounter with the prince +at Sorrento, where he intended to be about Christmas. +Mr., who was lying on his back, in roomy overcoat +and large cap, never unlocked his jaws all the way +over; his face had grown darker and his moustache whiter, +and his head ached dreadfully: during the last days, +thanks to the bad weather, he had been drinking too heavily +of evenings, and had too much admired the “living +pictures” in dives of <i>recherché</i> libertinage. But the rain +kept on lashing against the jarring windows, the water +from them running down on the divans; the wind, howling, +bent the masts, and at times, aided by the onslaught +of a wave, careened the little steamer entirely to one +side, and then something in the hold would roll with a +rumble. During the stops, at Castellamare, at Sorrento, +things were a trifle more bearable, but even then the rocking +was fearful,—the shore, with all its cliffs, gardens, +<i>pigin</i>⁠<a id="FNanchor_15_17" href="#Footnote_15_17" class="fnanchor">[15]</a>⁠, its pink and white hotels and hazy mountains +clad in curly greenery, swayed up and down as if on a +swing; boats bumped up against the sides of the ship; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</span>sailors and steerage passengers were yelling vehemently; +somewhere, as though it had been crushed, a baby was +wailing and smothering; a raw wind was blowing in at the +door; and, from a swaying boat with a flag of the Hotel +Royal, a lisping gamin was screaming, luring travellers: +“Kgoya-al! Hôtel Kgoya-al!...” And the gentleman +from San Francisco, feeling that he was an old man,—which +was but proper,—was already thinking with sadness +and melancholy of all these Royals, Splendids, Excelsiors, +and of these greedy, insignificant mannikins, reeking +of garlic, that are called Italians. Once, having +opened his eyes and raised himself from the divan, he +saw, underneath the craggy steep of the shore, a cluster of +stone hovels, mouldy through and through, stuck one on +top of another near the very edge of the water, near boats, +near all sorts of rags, tins, and brown nets,—hovels so +miserable, that, at the recollection that this was that very +Italy he had come hither to enjoy, he felt despair.... +Finally, at twilight, the dark mass of the island began to +draw near, seemingly bored through and through by little +red lights near its base; the wind became softer, warmer, +more fragrant; over the abating waves, as opalescent as +black oil, golden pythons flowed from the lanterns on the +wharf.... Then came the sudden rumble of the anchor, +and it fell with a splash into the water; the ferocious +yells of the boatmen, vying with one another, +floated in from all quarters,—and at once the heart grew +lighter, the lights in the general cabin shone more brightly, +a desire arose to eat, to drink, to smoke, to be stirring.... +Ten minutes later the family from San Francisco +had descended into a large boat; within fifteen +minutes it had set foot upon the stones of the wharf, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</span>had then got into a bright little railway car and to its +buzzing started the ascent of the slope, amid the stakes of +the vineyards, half-crumbled stone enclosures, and wet, +gnarled orange trees, some of them under coverings of +straw,—trees with thick, glossy foliage, and aglimmer +with the orange fruits; all these objects were sliding +downward, past the open windows of the little car, toward +the base of the mountain.... Sweetly smells the +earth of Italy after rain, and her every island has its own, +its especial aroma!</p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_15_17" href="#FNanchor_15_17" class="label">[15]</a> Pino-groves. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p>The island of Capri was damp and dark on this evening. +But now it came into life for an instant; lights +sprang up here and there, as always on the steamer’s arrival. +At the top of the mountain, where stood the station +of the <i>funicular</i>, there was another throng of those +whose duty lay in receiving fittingly the gentleman from +San Francisco. There were other arrivals also, but they +merited no attention,—several Russians, who had taken +up their abode in Capri,—absent-minded because of their +bookish meditations, unkempt, bearded, spectacled, the +collars of their old drap overcoats turned up; and a group +of long-legged, long-necked, round-headed German youths +in Tyrolean costumes, with canvas knapsacks slung over +their shoulders,—these latter stood in need of nobody’s +services, feeling themselves at home everywhere, and were +not at all generous in their expenditures. The gentleman +from San Francisco, on the other hand, who was calmly +keeping aloof from both the one group and the other, was +immediately noticed. He and his ladies were bustlingly +assisted to get out, some men running ahead of him to +show him the way: he was surrounded anew by urchins, +and by those robust Caprian wives who carry on their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</span>heads the portmanteaux and trunks of respectable travellers. +The wooden pattens of these women clattered over +a <i>piazetta</i>, that seemed to belong to some opera, an electric +globe swaying above it in the damp wind; the rabble +of urchins burst into sharp, bird-like whistles,—and, +as though on a stage, the gentleman from San Francisco +proceeded in their midst toward some mediæval arch, +underneath houses that had become welded into one mass, +beyond which a little echoing street,—with the tuft of a +palm above flat roofs on its left, and with blue stars in +the black sky overhead,—led slopingly to the grand entrance +of the hotel, glittering ahead.... And again it +seemed that it was in honour of the guests from San Francisco +that this damp little town of stone on a craggy little +island of the Mediterranean Sea had come to life, that +it was they who had made so happy and affable the proprietor +of the hotel, that it was they only who had been +waited for by the Chinese gong, that now began wailing +the summons to dinner through all the stories of the hotel, +the instant they had set foot in the vestibule.</p> + +<p>The proprietor, a young man of haughty elegance, who +had met them with a polite and exquisite bow, for a +minute dumbfounded the gentleman from San Francisco: +having glanced at him, the gentleman from San Francisco +suddenly recalled that just the night before, among the +rest of the confusion of images that had beset him in his +sleep, he had seen precisely this gentleman,—just like +him, down to the least detail: in the same sort of frock +with rounded skirts, and with the same pomaded and +painstakingly combed head. Startled, he was almost +taken aback; but since, from long, long before, there was +not even a mustard seed of any sort of so-called mystical +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</span>emotions left in his soul, his astonishment was dimmed the +same instant, passing through a corridor of the hotel, he +spoke jestingly to his wife and daughter of this strange +coincidence of dream and reality. And only his daughter +glanced at him with alarm at that moment: her heart suddenly +contracted from sadness, from a feeling of their +loneliness upon this foreign, dark island,—a feeling so +strong that she almost burst into tears. But still she said +nothing of her feelings to her father,—as always.</p> + +<p>An exalted personage—Rais XVII,—who had been visiting +Capri, had just taken his departure, and the guests +from San Francisco were given the same apartments that +he had occupied. To them was assigned the handsomest +and most expert chambermaid, a Belgian, whose waist +was slenderly and firmly corseted, and who wore a little +starched cap that looked like a pronged crown; also, the +stateliest and most dignified of flunkies, a fiery-eyed Sicilian, +swarthy as coal; and the nimblest of bell-boys, the +short and stout Luigi,—a fellow who was very fond of a +joke, and who had changed many places in his time. And +a minute later there was a slight tap at the door of the +room of the gentleman from San Francisco,—the French +<i>maitre d’hôtel</i> had come to find out if the newly arrived +guests would dine, and, in the event of an answer in the +affirmative,—of which, however, there was no doubt,—to +inform them that the <i>carte de jour</i> consisted of crawfish, +roast beef, asparagus, pheasants, and so forth. The floor +was still rocking under the gentleman from San Francisco,—so +badly had the atrocious little Italian steamer tossed +him about,—but, without hurrying, with his own hands, +although somewhat clumsily from being unaccustomed to +such things, he shut a window that had banged upon the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</span>entrance of the <i>maitre d’hôtel</i> and had let in the odours +of the distant kitchen and of the wet flowers in the garden, +and with a leisurely precision replied that they would +dine, that their table must be placed at a distance from +the door, at the farthest end of the dining room, that they +would drink local wine and champagne,—moderately dry +and only slightly chilled. The <i>maitre d’hôtel concurred</i> +in every word of his, in intonations most varied, having, +however, but one significance,—that there was never a +doubt, nor could there possibly be any, about the correctness +of the wishes of the gentleman from San Francisco, +and that everything would be carried out punctiliously. +In conclusion he inclined his head, and asked deferentially:</p> + +<p>“Will that be all, sir?”</p> + +<p>And, having received a long-drawn-out “Yes”<a id="FNanchor_*_B" href="#Footnote_*_16" class="fnanchor">[*]</a> in answer, +he added that the <i>tarantella</i> would be danced in the +vestibule to-day,—the dancers would be Carmella and +Giuseppe, known to all Italy, and to “the entire world of +tourists.”</p> + +<p>“I have seen her on post cards,” said the gentleman +from San Francisco in a voice devoid of all expression. +“About this Giuseppe, now,—is he her husband?”</p> + +<p>“Her cousin, sir,” answered the <i>maitre d’hôtel</i>.</p> + +<p>And, after a little wait, after considering something, the +gentleman from San Francisco dismissed him with a +nod.</p> + +<p>And then he began his preparations anew, as though for +a wedding ceremony: he turned on all the electric lights, +filling all the mirrors with reflections of light and glitter, +of furniture and opened trunks; he began shaving and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</span>washing, ringing the bell every minute, while other impatient +rings from his wife’s and daughter’s rooms floated +through the entire corridor and interrupted his. And +Luigi, in his red apron, was rushing headlong to answer +the bell, with an ease peculiar to many stout men, the +while he made grimaces of horror that made the chambermaids, +running by with glazed porcelain pails in their +hands, laugh till they cried. Having knocked on the door +with his knuckles, he asked with an assumed timidity, +with a respectfulness that verged on idiocy:</p> + +<p>“<i>Ha sonato, signore?</i> (Did you ring, sir?)”</p> + +<p>And from the other side of the door came an unhurried, +grating voice, insultingly polite:</p> + +<p>“Yes, come in....”<a id="FNanchor_*_C" href="#Footnote_*_16" class="fnanchor">[*]</a></p> + +<p>What were the thoughts, what were the emotions of the +gentleman from San Francisco on this evening, that was +of such portent to him? He felt nothing exceptional,—for +the trouble in this world is just that everything is +apparently all too simple! And even if he had sensed +within his soul that something was impending, he would, +never the less, have thought that this thing would not occur +for some time to come,—in any case, not immediately. +Besides that, like everyone who has gone through the +rocking of a ship, he wanted very much to eat, was anticipating +with enjoyment the first spoonful of soup, the +first mouthful of wine, and performed the usual routine +of dressing even with a certain degree of exhilaration that +left no time for reflections.</p> + +<p>Having shaved and washed himself, having inserted +several artificial teeth properly, he, standing before a +mirror, wetted the remnants of his thick, pearly-gray +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</span>hair and plastered it down around his swarthy-yellow +skull, with brushes set in silver; drew a suit of cream-coloured +silk underwear over his strong old body, beginning +to be full at the waist from excesses in food, and +put on silk socks and dancing slippers on his shrivelled, +splayed feet; sitting down, he put in order his black trousers, +drawn high by black silk braces, as well as his +snowy-white shirt, with the bosom bulging out; put the +links through the glossy cuffs, and began the torturous +pursuit of the collar-button underneath the stiffly +starched collar. The floor was still swaying beneath him, +the tips of his fingers pained him greatly, the collar-button +at times nipped hard the flabby skin in the hollow +under his Adam’s-apple, but he was persistent and finally, +his eyes glittering from the exertion, his face all livid +from the collar that was choking his throat,—a collar far +too tight,—he did contrive to accomplish his task, and sat +down in exhaustion in front of the pier glass, reflected in +it from head to foot, a reflection that was repeated in all +the other mirrors.</p> + +<p>“Oh, this is dreadful!” he muttered, letting his strong +bald head drop, and without trying to understand, without +reflecting, just what, precisely, was dreadful; then, +with an accustomed and attentive glance, he inspected his +stubby fingers, with gouty hardenings at the joints, and +his convex nails of an almond colour, repeating, with conviction; +“This is dreadful....”</p> + +<p>But at this point the second gong, sonorously, as in some +heathen temple, reverberated through the entire house. +And, getting up quickly from his seat, the gentleman from +San Francisco drew his collar still tighter with the necktie +and his stomach by means of the low-cut vest, put on his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</span>tuxedo, drew out his cuffs, scrutinized himself once more +in the mirror.... This Carmella, swarthy, with eyes +which she knew well how to use most effectively, resembling +a mulatto woman, clad in a dress of many colours, +with the colour of orange predominant, must dance exceptionally, +he reflected. And, stepping briskly out of his +room and walking over the carpet to the next one,—his +wife’s—he asked, loudly, if they would be ready +soon?</p> + +<p>“In five minutes, Dad!” a girl’s voice, ringing and by +now gay, responded from the other side of the door.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said the gentleman from San Francisco.</p> + +<p>And, leisurely, he walked down red-carpeted corridors +and staircases, descending in search of the reading room. +The servants he met stood aside and hugged the wall to +let him pass, but he kept on his way as though he had +never even noticed them. An old woman who was late +for dinner, already stooping, with milky hair but <i>décolettée</i> +in a light-gray gown of silk, was hurrying with all her +might, but drolly, in a hen-like manner, and he easily out-stripped +her. Near the glass doors of the dining room, +where all the guests had already assembled, and were beginning +their dinner, he stopped before a little table piled +with boxes of cigars and Egyptian cigarettes, took a large +Manila cigar, and tossed three <i>lire</i> upon the little table; +upon the closed veranda he glanced, in passing, through +the open window: out of the darkness he felt a breath of +the balmy air upon him, thought he saw the tip of an +ancient palm, that had flung wide across the stars its +fronds, which seemed gigantic, heard the distant, even +noise of the sea floating in to him.... In the reading +room,—snug, quiet, and illuminated only above the tables, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</span>some gray-haired German was standing, rustling the newspapers,—unkempt, +resembling Ibsen, in round silver spectacles +and with the astonished eyes of a madman. Having +scrutinized him coldly, the gentleman from San Francisco +sat down in a deep leather chair in a corner near a +green-shaded lamp, put on his <i>pince nez</i>, twitching his +head because his collar was choking him, and hid himself +completely behind the newspaper sheet. He rapidly ran +through the headlines of certain items, read a few lines +about the never-ceasing Balkan war, with an accustomed +gesture turned the newspaper over,—when suddenly the +lines flared up before him with a glassy glare, his neck +became taut, his eyes bulged out, the <i>pince nez</i> flew off +his nose.... He lunged forward, tried to swallow some +air,—and gasped wildly; his lower jaw sank, lighting up +his entire mouth with the reflection of the gold fillings; +his head dropped back on his shoulder and began to +sway; the bosom of his shirt bulged out like a basket,—and +his whole body, squirming, his heels catching the carpet, +slid downward to the floor, desperately struggling +with someone.</p> + +<p>Had the German not been in the reading room, the personnel +of the hotel would have managed, quickly and +adroitly, to hush up this dreadful occurrence; instantly, +through back passages, seizing him by the head and feet, +they would have rushed off the gentleman from San +Francisco as far away as possible,—and never a soul +among the guests would have found out what he had been +up to. But the German had dashed out of the reading +room with a scream,—he had aroused the entire house, +the entire dining room. And many jumped up from their +meal, overturning their chairs; many, paling, ran toward +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</span>the reading room. “What—what has happened?” was +heard in all languages,—and no one gave a sensible answer, +no one comprehended anything, since even up to +now men are amazed most of all by death, and will not, +under any circumstances, believe in it. The proprietor +dashed from one guest to another, trying to detain those +who were running away and to pacify them with hasty +assurances that this was just a trifling occurrence, a +slight fainting spell of a certain gentleman from San +Francisco.... But no one listened to him; many had +seen the waiters and bell-boys tearing off the necktie, the +vest, and the rumpled tuxedo off this gentleman, and even, +for some reason or other, the dancing slippers off his +splayed feet, clad in black silk. But he was still struggling. +He was still obdurately wrestling with death; he +absolutely refused to yield to her, who had so unexpectedly +and churlishly fallen upon him. His head was +swaying, he rattled hoarsely, like one with his throat cut; +his eyes had rolled up, like a drunkard’s.... When he +was hurriedly carried in and laid upon a bed in room +number forty-three,—the smallest, the poorest, the dampest +and the coldest, situated at the end of the bottom corridor,—his +daughter ran in, with her hair down, in a little +dressing gown that had flown open, her bosom, raised up +by the corset, uncovered; then his wife, big and ponderous, +already dressed for dinner,—her mouth rounded in +terror.... But by now he had ceased even to bob his +head.</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later everything in the hotel had +assumed some semblance of order. But the evening was +irreparably spoiled. Some guests, returning to the dining +room, finished their dinner, but in silence, with aggrieved +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</span>countenances, while the proprietor would approach now +one group, now another, shrugging his shoulders in polite +yet impotent irritation, feeling himself guilty without +guilt, assuring everybody that he understood very well +“how unpleasant all this was,” and pledging his word that +he would take “all measures within his power” to remove +this unpleasantness. It was necessary to call off the <i>tarantella</i>, +all unnecessary electric lights were switched off, +the majority of the guests withdrew into the bar, and it +became so quiet that one heard distinctly the ticking of +the clock in the vestibule, whose sole occupant was a parrot, +dully muttering something, fussing in his cage before +going to sleep, contriving to doze off at last with one claw +ludicrously stretched up to the upper perch.... The +gentleman from San Francisco was lying upon a cheap +iron bed, under coarse woolen blankets, upon which the +dull light of a single bulb beat down from the ceiling. +An ice-bag hung down to his moist and cold forehead. +The livid face, already dead, was gradually growing cold; +the hoarse rattling, expelled from the open mouth, illuminated +by the reflection of gold, was growing fainter. +This was no longer the gentleman from San Francisco +rattling,—he no longer existed,—but some other. His +wife, his daughter, the doctor and the servants were standing, +gazing at him dully. Suddenly, that which they +awaited and feared was consummated,—the rattling ceased +abruptly. And slowly, slowly, before the eyes of all, a +pallor flowed over the face of the man who had died, and +his features seemed to grow finer, to become irradiated, +with a beauty which had been rightfully his in the long +ago....</p> + +<p>The proprietor entered. “<i>Già è morto</i>,” said the doctor +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</span>to him in a whisper. The proprietor, his face dispassionate, +shrugged his shoulders. The wife, down +whose cheeks the tears were quietly coursing, walked up +to him and timidly said that the deceased ought now to be +carried to his own room.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, madam,” hastily, correctly, but now without +any amiability and not in English, but in French, retorted +the proprietor, who was not at all interested now in such +trifling sums as the arrivals from San Francisco might +leave in his coffers. “That is absolutely impossible, +madam,” said he, and added in explanation that he valued +the apartments occupied by them very much; that, were +he to carry out her wishes, everybody in Capri would +know it and the tourists would shun those apartments.</p> + +<p>The young lady, who had been gazing at him strangely, +sat down on a chair, and, stuffing her mouth with a handkerchief, +burst into sobs. The wife dried her tears immediately, +her face flaring up. She adopted a louder tone, +making demands in her own language, and still incredulous +of the fact that all respect for them had been +completely lost. The proprietor, with a polite dignity, +cut her short: if madam was not pleased with the customs +of the hotel, he would not venture to detain her; and he +firmly announced that the body must be gotten away +this very day, at dawn, that the police had already been +notified, and one of the police officers would be here very +soon and would carry out all the necessary formalities. +Was it possible to secure even a common coffin in Capri, +madam asks? Regrettably, no,—it was beyond possibility, +and no one would be able to make one in time. It +would be necessary to have recourse to something else.... +For instance,—English soda water came in large and long +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</span>boxes.... It was possible to knock the partitions out of +such a box....</p> + +<p>At night the whole hotel slept. The window in room +number forty-three was opened,—it gave out upon a +corner of the garden where, near a high stone wall with +broken glass upon its crest, a phthisic banana tree was +growing; the electric light was switched off; the key was +turned in the door, and everybody went away. The dead +man remained in the darkness,—the blue stars looked down +upon him from the sky, a cricket with a pensive insouciance +began his song in the wall.... In the dimly lit +corridor two chambermaids were seated on a window sill, +at some darning. Luigi, in slippers, entered with a pile +of clothing in his arms.</p> + +<p>“<i>Pronto?</i> (All ready?)” he asked solicitously, in a +ringing whisper, indicating with his eyes the fearsome door +at the end of the corridor. And, he waved his hand airily +in that direction.... “<i>Partenza!</i>” he called out in a +whisper, as though he were speeding a train, the usual +phrase used in Italian depots at the departure of trains,—and +the chambermaids, choking with silent laughter, let +their heads sink on each other’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, hopping softly, he ran up to the very door, +gave it the merest tap, and, inclining his head to one side, +in a low voice, asked with the utmost deference:</p> + +<p>“<i>Ha sonato signore?</i>”</p> + +<p>And, squeezing his throat, thrusting out his lower jaw, +in a grating voice, slowly and sadly, he answered his own +question, as though from the other side of the door:</p> + +<p>“Yes, come in....”<a id="FNanchor_*_D" href="#Footnote_*_16" class="fnanchor">[*]</a></p> + +<p>And at dawn, when it had become light beyond the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</span>window of room number forty-three, and a humid wind +had begun to rustle the tattered leaves of the banana tree; +when the blue sky of morning had lifted and spread out +over the Island of Capri, and the pure and clear-cut summit +of Monte Solaro had grown aureate against the sun +that was rising beyond the distant blue mountains of +Italy; when the stone masons, who were repairing the +tourists’ paths on the island, had set out to work,—a long +box that had formerly been used for soda water was +brought to room number forty-three. Soon it became +very heavy, and was pressing hard against the knees of +the junior porter, who bore it off briskly on a one horse +cab over the white paved highway that was sinuously +winding to and fro over the slopes of Capri, among the +stone walls and the vineyards, ever downwards, to the +very sea. The cabby, a puny little man with reddened +eyes, in an old, wretched jacket with short sleeves and in +trodden-down shoes, was undergoing the after effects of +drink,—he had diced the whole night through in a <i>trattoria</i>, +and kept on lashing his sturdy little horse, tricked +out in the Sicilian fashion, with all sorts of little bells +livelily jingling upon the bridle with its tufts of coloured +wool, and upon the brass points of its high pad; with a +yard-long feather stuck in its cropped forelock,—a feather +that shook as the horse ran. The cabby kept silent; he +was oppressed by his shiftlessness, his vices,—by the fact +that he had, that night, lost to the last mite all those coppers +with which his pockets had been filled. But the +morning was fresh; in air such as this, with the sea all +around, under the morning sky, the after effects of drink +quickly evaporate, and a man is soon restored to a carefree +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</span>mood, and the cabby was furthermore consoled by +that unexpected sum, the opportunity to earn which had +been granted him by some gentleman from San Francisco, +whose lifeless head was bobbing from side to side in the +box at his back.... The little steamer,—a beetle lying +far down below, against the tender and vivid deep-blue +with which the Bay of Naples is so densely and highly +flooded,—was already blowing its final whistles, that reverberated +loudly all over the island, whose every bend, +every ridge, every stone, was as distinctly visible from +every point as if there were absolutely no such thing as +atmosphere. Near the wharf the junior porter was joined +by the senior, who was speeding with the daughter and +wife of the gentleman from San Francisco in his automobile,—they +were pale, with eyes hollow from tears and +a sleepless night. And ten minutes later the little steamer +was again chugging through the water, again running +toward Sorrento, toward Castellamare, carrying away +from Capri, for all time, the family from San Francisco.... +And again peace and quiet resumed their reign upon +the island.</p> + +<p>Upon this island, two thousand years ago, had lived a +man who had become completely enmeshed in his cruel +and foul deeds, who had for some reason seized the power +over millions of people in his hands, and who, having +himself lost his head at the senselessness of this power and +from the fear of death by assassination, lurking in ambush +behind every corner, had committed cruelties beyond all +measure,—and humankind has remembered him for all +time; and those who, in their collusion, just as incomprehensively +and, in substance, just as cruelly as he, reign +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</span>at present in power over this world, gather from all over +the earth to gaze upon the ruins of that stone villa where +he had dwelt on one of the steepest ascents of the island. +On this splendid morning all those who had come to +Capri for just this purpose were still sleeping in the hotels, +although, toward their entrances, were already being led +little mouse-gray burros with red saddles, upon which, +after awaking and sating themselves with food, Americans +and Germans, men and women, young and old, would +again clamber up ponderously this day, and after whom +would again run the old Caprian beggar women, with +sticks in their gnarled hands,—would run over stony +paths, and always up-hill, up to the very summit of +Mount Tiberio. Set at rest by the fact that the dead +old man from San Francisco, who had likewise been planning +to go with them but instead of that had only frightened +them with a <i>memento mori</i>, had already been shipped +off to Naples, the travellers slept on heavily, and the quiet +of the island was still undisturbed, the shops in the city +were still shut. The market place on the <i>piazetta</i> alone +was carrying on traffic,—in fish and greens; and the people +there were all simple folk, among whom, without anything +to do, as always, was standing Lorenzo the boatman, famous +all over Italy,—a tall old man, a care-free rake and a +handsome fellow, who had served more than once as a +model to many artists; he had brought, and had already +sold for a song, two lobsters that he had caught that night +and which were already rustling in the apron of the cook +of that very hotel where the family from San Francisco +had passed the night, and now he could afford to stand +in calm idleness even until the evening, looking about +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</span>him with a kingly bearing (a little trick of his), consciously +picturesque with his tatters, clay pipe, and a +red woolen <i>beretta</i> drooping over one ear.</p> + +<p>And, along the precipices of Monte Solaro, upon the +ancient Phœnician road, hewn out of the crags, down +its stone steps, two mountaineers of Abruzzi were descending +from Anacapri. One had bag-pipes under his leathern +mantle,—a large bag made from the skin of a she-goat, +with two pipes; the other had something in the nature of +wooden Pan’s-reeds. They went on,—and all the land, +joyous, splendid, sun-flooded, spread out below them: +the stony humps of the island, which was lying almost in +its entirety at their feet; and that faery-like deep-blue in +which it was aswim; and the radiant morning vapours +over the sea, toward the east, under the blinding sun, that +was now beating down hotly, rising ever higher and +higher; and, still in their morning vagueness, the mistily +azure massive outlines of Italy, of her mountains near +and far, whose beauty human speech is impotent to express.... +Half way down the pipers slackened their +pace: over the path, within a grotto in the craggy side of +Monte Solaro, all illumed by the sun, all bathed in its +warmth and glow, in snowy-white raiment of gypsum, and +in a royal crown, golden-rusty from inclement weathers, +stood the Mother of God, meek and gracious, her orbs +lifted up to heaven, to the eternal and happy abodes of +Her thrice-blessed Son. The pipers bared their heads, +put their reeds to their lips,—and there poured forth +their naïve and humbly-jubilant praises to the sun, to the +morning, to Her, the Immaculate Intercessor for all those +who suffer in this evil and beautiful world, and to Him +Who had been born of Her womb in a cavern at Bethlehem, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</span>in a poor shepherd’s shelter in the distant land +of Judæa....</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the body of the dead old man from San +Francisco was returning to its home, to a grave on the +shores of the New World. Having gone through many +humiliations, through much human neglect, having wandered +for a week from one port warehouse to another, it +had finally gotten once more on board that same famous +ship upon which but so recently, with so much deference, +he had been borne to the Old World. But now he was +already being concealed from the quick,—he was lowered +in his tarred coffin deep into the black hold. And once +more the ship was sailing on and on upon its long sea +voyage. In the night time it sailed past the Island of +Capri, and, to one watching them from the island, there +was something sad about the ship’s lights, slowly disappearing +over the dark sea. But, upon the ship itself, in +its brilliant <i>salons</i> resplendent with lustres and marbles, +there was a crowded ball that night, as usual.</p> + +<p>There was a ball on the second night also, and on the +third,—again in the midst of a raging snow storm, whirling +over an ocean booming like a funeral mass, and heaving +in mountains trapped out in mourning by the silver +spindrift. The innumerable fiery eyes of the ship that +was retreating into the night and the snow gale were +barely visible for the snow to the Devil watching from +the crags of Gibraltar, from the stony gateway of two +worlds. The Devil was as enormous as a cliff, but the +ship was still more enormous than he; many-tiered, many-funnelled, +created by the pride of the New Man with an +ancient heart. The snow gale smote upon its rigging +and wide-throated funnels, hoary from the snow, but the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</span>ship was steadfast, firm, majestic—and awesome. Upon +its topmost deck were reared, in their solitude among the +snowy whirlwinds, those snug, dimly-lit chambers where, +plunged in a light and uneasy slumber, was its ponderous +guide who resembled a heathen idol, reigning over the entire +ship. He heard the pained howlings and the ferocious +squealings of the storm-stifled siren, but soothed himself +by the proximity of that which, in the final summing up, +was incomprehensible even to himself, that which was on +the other side of his wall: that large cabin, which had the +appearance of being armoured, and was being constantly +filled by the mysterious rumbling, quivering, and crisp +sputtering of blue flames, flaring up and exploding around +the pale-faced operator with a metal half-hoop upon his +head. In the very depths, in the under-water womb of +the <i>Atlantida</i>, were the thirty-thousand-pound masses of +boilers and of all sorts of other machinery—dully glittering +with steel, hissing out stream and exuding oil and +boiling water,—of that kitchen, made red hot from infernal +furnaces underneath, wherein was brewing the motion of +the ship. Forces, fearful in their concentration, were bubbling, +were being transmitted to its very keel, into an endlessly +long catacomb, into a tunnel, illuminated by electricity, +wherein slowly, with an inexorability that was +crushing to the human soul, was revolving within its +oily couch the gigantean shaft, exactly like a living monster +that had stretched itself out in this tunnel. Meanwhile, +amidship the <i>Atlantida</i>, its warm and luxurious +cabins, its dining halls and ball rooms, poured forth +radiance and joyousness, were humming with the voices +of a well-dressed gathering, were sweetly odorous with +fresh flowers, and the strains of the stringed orchestra +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</span>were their song. And again excruciatingly writhed and +at intervals came together among this throng, among this +glitter of lights, silks, diamonds and bared feminine +shoulders, the supple pair of hired lovers: the sinfully-modest, +very pretty young woman, with eye-lashes cast +down, with a chaste coiffure, and the well-built young +man, with black hair that seemed to be pasted on, with +his face pale from powder, shod in the most elegant of +patent-leather foot-gear, clad in a tight-fitting dress +coat with long tails,—an Adonis who resembled a huge +leech. And none knew that, already for a long time, +this pair had grown wearied of languishing dissemblingly +in their blissful torment to the sounds of the +shamelessly-sad music,—nor that far, far below, at the +bottom of the black hold, stood a tarred coffin, in close +proximity to the sombre and sultry depths of the ship +that was toilsomely overpowering the darkness, the +ocean, the snow storm....</p> + +<p><i>1915.</i></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_*_16" class="label">[*]</a> (<a href="#FNanchor_*_A">1</a>, <a href="#FNanchor_*_B">2</a>, <a href="#FNanchor_*_C">3</a>, <a href="#FNanchor_*_D">4</a>) English in the original. The same applies to the other +phrases in this story marked with asterisks. <i>Trans.</i></p></div> + + + +<p class="center p2"> + THE END +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote"> + <p class="ph2" id="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES"> + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + </p> + + + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_24">24</a>, <a href="#Page_245">245</a>: Misprinted single quote corrected to double quote.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_162">162</a>: Extraneous closing quote removed after “in pleasing Lushka....”; +and page <a href="#Page_238">238</a>, after “brought to an end quick....”</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_185">185</a>: Comma added after “I’ve done for him”, before the closing quote.</p> + +<p>Page <a href="#Page_197">197</a>: The quote beginning with “I can’t catch her nohow” is missing a +closing quote mark. This has been left as-is.</p> + +<p>Typos corrected:</p> +<ul> +<li>“submissve” to “submissive” (page <a href="#Page_87">87</a>)</li> +<li>“Bittnerness” to “Bitterness” (page <a href="#Page_171">171</a>)</li> +<li>“pronounciation” to “pronunciation” (page <a href="#Page_178">178</a>)</li> +<li>“trouser’s-pocket” to “trousers’-pocket” (page <a href="#Page_180">180</a>)</li> +<li>“acquiver” to “aquiver” (page <a href="#Page_222">222</a>)</li> +<li>“there is was just” to “there it was just” (page <a href="#Page_234">234</a>)</li> +<li>“that it, eh, So” to “that it, eh, so” (page <a href="#Page_235">235</a>)</li> +<li>“tremblng” to “trembling” (page <a href="#Page_257">257</a>)</li> +<li>“the grave itelf” to “the grave itself” (page <a href="#Page_275">275</a>)</li> +</ul> + +<p>The <a href="#Footnote_*_16">“English in the original”</a> footnote text appears only once in the chapter <a href="#THE_GENTLEMAN_FROM">THE GENTLEMAN FROM SAN FRANCISCO</a>. Links to the 4 occurences in the text have been added to enhance navigation.</p> + +<p>Original spelling of “acrost”, “faery”, and “piazetta” retained.</p> + +<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been left unchanged.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78224 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/78224-h/images/colophon.jpg b/78224-h/images/colophon.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7760987 --- /dev/null +++ b/78224-h/images/colophon.jpg diff --git a/78224-h/images/cover.jpg b/78224-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b19e97a --- /dev/null +++ b/78224-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/78224-h/images/front_cover.jpg b/78224-h/images/front_cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a381ee0 --- /dev/null +++ b/78224-h/images/front_cover.jpg diff --git a/78224-h/images/i_007.png b/78224-h/images/i_007.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..22f8ada --- /dev/null +++ b/78224-h/images/i_007.png diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, 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. 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