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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13437 ***
+
+[Illustration: ANTON P. CHEKHOV, RUSSIA'S GREATEST SHORT-STORY WRITER]
+
+
+BEST RUSSIAN SHORT STORIES
+
+
+Compiled and Edited by THOMAS SELTZER
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+THE QUEEN OF SPADES _A.S. Pushkin_
+
+THE CLOAK _N.V. Gogol_
+
+THE DISTRICT DOCTOR _I.S. Turgenev_
+
+THE CHRISTMAS TREE AND THE WEDDING _F.M. Dostoyevsky_
+
+GOD SEES THE TRUTH, BUT WAITS _L.N. Tolstoy_
+
+HOW A MUZHIK FED TWO OFFICIALS _M.Y. Saltykov_
+
+THE SHADES, A PHANTASY _V.G. Korolenko_
+
+THE SIGNAL _V.N. Garshin_
+
+THE DARLING _A.P. Chekhov_
+
+THE BET _A.P. Chekhov_
+
+VANKA _A.P. Chekhov_
+
+HIDE AND SEEK _F.K. Sologub_
+
+DETHRONED _I.N. Potapenko_
+
+THE SERVANT _S.T. Semyonov_
+
+ONE AUTUMN NIGHT _M. Gorky_
+
+HER LOVER _M. Gorky_
+
+LAZARUS _L.N. Andreyev_
+
+THE REVOLUTIONIST _M.P. Artzybashev_
+
+THE OUTRAGE _A.I. Kuprin_
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+Conceive the joy of a lover of nature who, leaving the art galleries,
+wanders out among the trees and wild flowers and birds that the
+pictures of the galleries have sentimentalised. It is some such joy
+that the man who truly loves the noblest in letters feels when tasting
+for the first time the simple delights of Russian literature. French
+and English and German authors, too, occasionally, offer works of
+lofty, simple naturalness; but the very keynote to the whole of
+Russian literature is simplicity, naturalness, veraciousness.
+
+Another essentially Russian trait is the quite unaffected conception
+that the lowly are on a plane of equality with the so-called upper
+classes. When the Englishman Dickens wrote with his profound pity and
+understanding of the poor, there was yet a bit; of remoteness,
+perhaps, even, a bit of caricature, in his treatment of them. He
+showed their sufferings to the rest of the world with a "Behold how
+the other half lives!" The Russian writes of the poor, as it were,
+from within, as one of them, with no eye to theatrical effect upon the
+well-to-do. There is no insistence upon peculiar virtues or vices. The
+poor are portrayed just as they are, as human beings like the rest of
+us. A democratic spirit is reflected, breathing a broad humanity, a
+true universality, an unstudied generosity that proceed not from the
+intellectual conviction that to understand all is to forgive all, but
+from an instinctive feeling that no man has the right to set himself
+up as a judge over another, that one can only observe and record.
+
+In 1834 two short stories appeared, _The Queen of Spades_, by Pushkin,
+and _The Cloak_, by Gogol. The first was a finishing-off of the old,
+outgoing style of romanticism, the other was the beginning of the new,
+the characteristically Russian style. We read Pushkin's _Queen of
+Spades_, the first story in the volume, and the likelihood is we shall
+enjoy it greatly. "But why is it Russian?" we ask. The answer is, "It
+is not Russian." It might have been printed in an American magazine
+over the name of John Brown. But, now, take the very next story in the
+volume, _The Cloak_. "Ah," you exclaim, "a genuine Russian story,
+Surely. You cannot palm it off on me over the name of Jones or Smith."
+Why? Because _The Cloak_ for the first time strikes that truly Russian
+note of deep sympathy with the disinherited. It is not yet wholly free
+from artificiality, and so is not yet typical of the purely realistic
+fiction that reached its perfected development in Turgenev and
+Tolstoy.
+
+Though Pushkin heads the list of those writers who made the literature
+of their country world-famous, he was still a romanticist, in the
+universal literary fashion of his day. However, he already gave strong
+indication of the peculiarly Russian genius for naturalness or
+realism, and was a true Russian in his simplicity of style. In no
+sense an innovator, but taking the cue for his poetry from Byron and
+for his prose from the romanticism current at that period, he was not
+in advance of his age. He had a revolutionary streak in his nature, as
+his _Ode to Liberty_ and other bits of verse and his intimacy with the
+Decembrist rebels show. But his youthful fire soon died down, and he
+found it possible to accommodate himself to the life of a Russian high
+functionary and courtier under the severe despot Nicholas I, though,
+to be sure, he always hated that life. For all his flirting with
+revolutionarism, he never displayed great originality or depth of
+thought. He was simply an extraordinarily gifted author, a perfect
+versifier, a wondrous lyrist, and a delicious raconteur, endowed with
+a grace, ease and power of expression that delighted even the exacting
+artistic sense of Turgenev. To him aptly applies the dictum of
+Socrates: "Not by wisdom do the poets write poetry, but by a sort of
+genius and inspiration." I do not mean to convey that as a thinker
+Pushkin is to be despised. Nevertheless, it is true that he would
+occupy a lower position in literature did his reputation depend upon
+his contributions to thought and not upon his value as an artist.
+
+"We are all descended from Gogol's _Cloak_," said a Russian writer.
+And Dostoyevsky's novel, _Poor People_, which appeared ten years
+later, is, in a way, merely an extension of Gogol's shorter tale. In
+Dostoyevsky, indeed, the passion for the common people and the
+all-embracing, all-penetrating pity for suffering humanity reach their
+climax. He was a profound psychologist and delved deeply into the
+human soul, especially in its abnormal and diseased aspects. Between
+scenes of heart-rending, abject poverty, injustice, and wrong, and the
+torments of mental pathology, he managed almost to exhaust the whole
+range of human woe. And he analysed this misery with an intensity of
+feeling and a painstaking regard for the most harrowing details that
+are quite upsetting to normally constituted nerves. Yet all the
+horrors must be forgiven him because of the motive inspiring them--an
+overpowering love and the desire to induce an equal love in others. It
+is not horror for horror's sake, not a literary _tour de force_, as in
+Poe, but horror for a high purpose, for purification through
+suffering, which was one of the articles of Dostoyevsky's faith.
+
+Following as a corollary from the love and pity for mankind that make
+a leading element in Russian literature, is a passionate search for
+the means of improving the lot of humanity, a fervent attachment to
+social ideas and ideals. A Russian author is more ardently devoted to
+a cause than an American short-story writer to a plot. This, in turn,
+is but a reflection of the spirit of the Russian people, especially of
+the intellectuals. The Russians take literature perhaps more seriously
+than any other nation. To them books are not a mere diversion. They
+demand that fiction and poetry be a true mirror of life and be of
+service to life. A Russian author, to achieve the highest recognition,
+must be a thinker also. He need not necessarily be a finished artist.
+Everything is subordinated to two main requirements--humanitarian
+ideals and fidelity to life. This is the secret of the marvellous
+simplicity of Russian-literary art. Before the supreme function of
+literature, the Russian writer stands awed and humbled. He knows he
+cannot cover up poverty of thought, poverty of spirit and lack of
+sincerity by rhetorical tricks or verbal cleverness. And if he
+possesses the two essential requirements, the simplest language will
+suffice.
+
+These qualities are exemplified at their best by Turgenev and Tolstoy.
+They both had a strong social consciousness; they both grappled with
+the problems of human welfare; they were both artists in the larger
+sense, that is, in their truthful representation of life. Turgenev was
+an artist also in the narrower sense--in a keen appreciation Of form.
+Thoroughly Occidental in his tastes, he sought the regeneration of
+Russia in radical progress along the lines of European democracy.
+Tolstoy, on the other hand, sought the salvation of mankind in a
+return to the primitive life and primitive Christian religion.
+
+The very first work of importance by Turgenev, _A Sportsman's
+Sketches_, dealt with the question of serfdom, and it wielded
+tremendous influence in bringing about its abolition. Almost every
+succeeding book of his, from _Rudin_ through _Fathers and Sons_ to
+_Virgin Soil_, presented vivid pictures of contemporary Russian
+society, with its problems, the clash of ideas between the old and the
+new generations, and the struggles, the aspirations and the thoughts
+that engrossed the advanced youth of Russia; so that his collected
+works form a remarkable literary record of the successive movements of
+Russian society in a period of preparation, fraught with epochal
+significance, which culminated in the overthrow of Czarism and the
+inauguration of a new and true democracy, marking the beginning,
+perhaps, of a radical transformation the world over.
+
+"The greatest writer of Russia." That is Turgenev's estimate of
+Tolstoy. "A second Shakespeare!" was Flaubert's enthusiastic outburst.
+The Frenchman's comparison is not wholly illuminating. The one point
+of resemblance between the two authors is simply in the tremendous
+magnitude of their genius. Each is a Colossus. Each creates a whole
+world of characters, from kings and princes and ladies to servants and
+maids and peasants. But how vastly divergent the angle of approach!
+Anna Karenina may have all the subtle womanly charm of an Olivia or a
+Portia, but how different her trials. Shakespeare could not have
+treated Anna's problems at all. Anna could not have appeared in his
+pages except as a sinning Gertrude, the mother of Hamlet. Shakespeare
+had all the prejudices of his age. He accepted the world as it is with
+its absurd moralities, its conventions and institutions and social
+classes. A gravedigger is naturally inferior to a lord, and if he is
+to be presented at all, he must come on as a clown. The people are
+always a mob, the rabble. Tolstoy, is the revolutionist, the
+iconoclast. He has the completest independence of mind. He utterly
+refuses to accept established opinions just because they are
+established. He probes into the right and wrong of things. His is a
+broad, generous universal democracy, his is a comprehensive sympathy,
+his an absolute incapacity to evaluate human beings according to
+station, rank or profession, or any standard but that of spiritual
+worth. In all this he was a complete contrast to Shakespeare. Each of
+the two men was like a creature of a higher world, possessed of
+supernatural endowments. Their omniscience of all things human, their
+insight into the hiddenmost springs of men's actions appear
+miraculous. But Shakespeare makes the impression of detachment from
+his works. The works do not reveal the man; while in Tolstoy the
+greatness of the man blends with the greatness of the genius. Tolstoy
+was no mere oracle uttering profundities he wot not of. As the social,
+religious and moral tracts that he wrote in the latter period of his
+life are instinct with a literary beauty of which he never could
+divest himself, and which gave an artistic value even to his sermons,
+so his earlier novels show a profound concern for the welfare of
+society, a broad, humanitarian spirit, a bigness of soul that included
+prince and pauper alike.
+
+Is this extravagant praise? Then let me echo William Dean Howells: "I
+know very well that I do not speak of Tolstoy's books in measured
+terms; I cannot."
+
+The Russian writers so far considered have made valuable contributions
+to the short story; but, with the exception of Pushkin, whose
+reputation rests chiefly upon his poetry, their best work, generally,
+was in the field of the long novel. It was the novel that gave Russian
+literature its pre-eminence. It could not have been otherwise, since
+Russia is young as a literary nation, and did not come of age until
+the period at which the novel was almost the only form of literature
+that counted. If, therefore, Russia was to gain distinction in the
+world of letters, it could be only through the novel. Of the measure
+of her success there is perhaps no better testimony than the words of
+Matthew Arnold, a critic certainly not given to overstatement. "The
+Russian novel," he wrote in 1887, "has now the vogue, and deserves to
+have it... The Russian novelist is master of a spell to which the
+secret of human nature--both what is external and internal, gesture
+and manner no less than thought and feeling--willingly make themselves
+known... In that form of imaginative literature, which in our day is
+the most popular and the most possible, the Russians at the present
+moment seem to me to hold the field."
+
+With the strict censorship imposed on Russian writers, many of them
+who might perhaps have contented themselves with expressing their
+opinions in essays, were driven to conceal their meaning under the
+guise of satire or allegory; which gave rise to a peculiar genre of
+literature, a sort of editorial or essay done into fiction, in which
+the satirist Saltykov, a contemporary of Turgenev and Dostoyevsky, who
+wrote under the pseudonym of Shchedrin, achieved the greatest success
+and popularity.
+
+It was not however, until the concluding quarter of the last century
+that writers like Korolenko and Garshin arose, who devoted themselves
+chiefly to the cultivation of the short story. With Anton Chekhov the
+short story assumed a position of importance alongside the larger
+works of the great Russian masters. Gorky and Andreyev made the short
+story do the same service for the active revolutionary period in the
+last decade of the nineteenth century down to its temporary defeat in
+1906 that Turgenev rendered in his series of larger novels for the
+period of preparation. But very different was the voice of Gorky, the
+man sprung from the people, the embodiment of all the accumulated
+wrath and indignation of centuries of social wrong and oppression,
+from the gentlemanly tones of the cultured artist Turgenev. Like a
+mighty hammer his blows fell upon the decaying fabric of the old
+society. His was no longer a feeble, despairing protest. With the
+strength and confidence of victory he made onslaught upon onslaught on
+the old institutions until they shook and almost tumbled. And when
+reaction celebrated its short-lived triumph and gloom settled again
+upon his country and most of his co-fighters withdrew from the battle
+in despair, some returning to the old-time Russian mood of
+hopelessness, passivity and apathy, and some even backsliding into
+wild orgies of literary debauchery, Gorky never wavered, never lost
+his faith and hope, never for a moment was untrue to his principles.
+Now, with the revolution victorious, he has come into his right, one
+of the most respected, beloved and picturesque figures in the Russian
+democracy.
+
+Kuprin, the most facile and talented short-story writer next to
+Chekhov, has, on the whole, kept well to the best literary traditions
+of Russia, though he has frequently wandered off to extravagant sex
+themes, for which he seems to display as great a fondness as
+Artzybashev. Semyonov is a unique character in Russian literature, a
+peasant who had scarcely mastered the most elementary mechanics of
+writing when he penned his first story. But that story pleased
+Tolstoy, who befriended and encouraged him. His tales deal altogether
+with peasant life in country and city, and have a lifelikeness, an
+artlessness, a simplicity striking even in a Russian author.
+
+There is a small group of writers detached from the main current of
+Russian literature who worship at the shrine of beauty and mysticism.
+Of these Sologub has attained the highest reputation.
+
+Rich as Russia has become in the short story, Anton Chekhov still
+stands out as the supreme master, one of the greatest short-story
+writers of the world. He was born in Taganarok, in the Ukraine, in
+1860, the son of a peasant serf who succeeded in buying his freedom.
+Anton Chekhov studied medicine, but devoted himself largely to
+writing, in which, he acknowledged, his scientific training was of
+great service. Though he lived only forty-four years, dying of
+tuberculosis in 1904, his collected works consist of sixteen
+fair-sized volumes of short stories, and several dramas besides. A few
+volumes of his works have already appeared in English translation.
+
+Critics, among them Tolstoy, have often compared Chekhov to
+Maupassant. I find it hard to discover the resemblance. Maupassant
+holds a supreme position as a short-story writer; so does Chekhov. But
+there, it seems to me, the likeness ends.
+
+The chill wind that blows from the atmosphere created by the
+Frenchman's objective artistry is by the Russian commingled with the
+warm breath of a great human sympathy. Maupassant never tells where
+his sympathies lie, and you don't know; you only guess. Chekhov does
+not tell you where his sympathies lie, either, but you know all the
+same; you don't have to guess. And yet Chekhov is as objective as
+Maupassant. In the chronicling of facts, conditions, and situations,
+in the reproduction of characters, he is scrupulously true, hard, and
+inexorable. But without obtruding his personality, he somehow manages
+to let you know that he is always present, always at hand. If you
+laugh, he is there to laugh with you; if you cry, he is there to shed
+a tear with you; if you are horrified, he is horrified, too. It is a
+subtle art by which he contrives to make one feel the nearness of
+himself for all his objectiveness, so subtle that it defies analysis.
+And yet it constitutes one of the great charms of his tales.
+
+Chekhov's works show an astounding resourcefulness and versatility.
+There is no monotony, no repetition. Neither in incident nor in
+character are any two stories alike. The range of Chekhov's knowledge
+of men and things seems to be unlimited, and he is extravagant in the
+use of it. Some great idea which many a writer would consider
+sufficient to expand into a whole novel he disposes of in a story of a
+few pages. Take, for example, _Vanka_, apparently but a mere episode
+in the childhood of a nine-year-old boy; while it is really the
+tragedy of a whole life in its tempting glimpses into a past
+environment and ominous forebodings of the future--all contracted into
+the space of four or five pages. Chekhov is lavish with his
+inventiveness. Apparently, it cost him no effort to invent.
+
+I have used the word inventiveness for lack of a better name. It
+expresses but lamely the peculiar faculty that distinguishes Chekhov.
+Chekhov does not really invent. He reveals. He reveals things that no
+author before him has revealed. It is as though he possessed a special
+organ which enabled him to see, hear and feel things of which we other
+mortals did not even dream the existence. Yet when he lays them bare
+we know that they are not fictitious, not invented, but as real as the
+ordinary familiar facts of life. This faculty of his playing on all
+conceivable objects, all conceivable emotions, no matter how
+microscopic, endows them with life and a soul. By virtue of this power
+_The Steppe_, an uneventful record of peasants travelling day after
+day through flat, monotonous fields, becomes instinct with dramatic
+interest, and its 125 pages seem all too short. And by virtue of the
+same attribute we follow with breathless suspense the minute
+description of the declining days of a great scientist, who feels his
+physical and mental faculties gradually ebbing away. _A Tiresome
+Story_, Chekhov calls it; and so it would be without the vitality
+conjured into it by the magic touch of this strange genius.
+
+Divination is perhaps a better term than invention. Chekhov divines
+the most secret impulses of the soul, scents out what is buried in the
+subconscious, and brings it up to the surface. Most writers are
+specialists. They know certain strata of society, and when they
+venture beyond, their step becomes uncertain. Chekhov's material is
+only delimited by humanity. He is equally at home everywhere. The
+peasant, the labourer, the merchant, the priest, the professional man,
+the scholar, the military officer, and the government functionary,
+Gentile or Jew, man, woman, or child--Chekhov is intimate with all of
+them. His characters are sharply defined individuals, not types. In
+almost all his stories, however short, the men and women and children
+who play a part in them come out as clear, distinct personalities.
+Ariadne is as vivid a character as Lilly, the heroine of Sudermann's
+_Song of Songs_; yet _Ariadne_ is but a single story in a volume of
+stories. Who that has read _The Darling_ can ever forget her--the
+woman who had no separate existence of her own, but thought the
+thoughts, felt the feelings, and spoke the words of the men she loved?
+And when there was no man to love any more, she was utterly crushed
+until she found a child to take care of and to love; and then she sank
+her personality in the boy as she had sunk it before in her husbands
+and lover, became a mere reflection of him, and was happy again.
+
+In the compilation of this volume I have been guided by the desire to
+give the largest possible representation to the prominent authors of
+the Russian short story, and to present specimens characteristic of
+each. At the same time the element of interest has been kept in mind;
+and in a few instances, as in the case of Korolenko, the selection of
+the story was made with a view to its intrinsic merit and striking
+qualities rather than as typifying the writer's art. It was, of
+course, impossible in the space of one book to exhaust all that is
+best. But to my knowledge, the present volume is the most
+comprehensive anthology of the Russian short story in the English
+language, and gives a fair notion of the achievement in that field.
+All who enjoy good reading, I have no reason to doubt, will get
+pleasure from it, and if, in addition, it will prove of assistance to
+American students of Russian literature, I shall feel that the task
+has been doubly worth the while.
+
+Korolenko's _Shades_ and Andreyev's _Lazarus_ first appeared in
+_Current Opinion_, and Artzybashev's _The Revolutionist_ in the
+_Metropolitan Magazine_. I take pleasure in thanking Mr. Edward J.
+Wheeler, editor of _Current Opinion_, and Mr. Carl Hovey, editor of
+the _Metropolitan Magazine_, for permission to reprint them.
+
+[Signature: Thomas Seltzer]
+
+
+
+"Everything is subordinated to two main requirements--humanitarian
+ideals and fidelity to life. This is the secret of the marvellous
+simplicity of Russian literary art."--THOMAS SELTZER.
+
+
+
+
+BEST RUSSIAN SHORT STORIES
+
+
+
+
+THE QUEEN OF SPADES
+
+
+BY ALEXSANDR S. PUSHKIN
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+There was a card party at the rooms of Narumov of the Horse Guards.
+The long winter night passed away imperceptibly, and it was five
+o'clock in the morning before the company sat down to supper. Those
+who had won, ate with a good appetite; the others sat staring absently
+at their empty plates. When the champagne appeared, however, the
+conversation became more animated, and all took a part in it.
+
+"And how did you fare, Surin?" asked the host.
+
+"Oh, I lost, as usual. I must confess that I am unlucky: I play
+mirandole, I always keep cool, I never allow anything to put me out,
+and yet I always lose!"
+
+"And you did not once allow yourself to be tempted to back the red?...
+Your firmness astonishes me."
+
+"But what do you think of Hermann?" said one of the guests, pointing
+to a young Engineer: "he has never had a card in his hand in his life,
+he has never in his life laid a wager, and yet he sits here till five
+o'clock in the morning watching our play."
+
+"Play interests me very much," said Hermann: "but I am not in the
+position to sacrifice the necessary in the hope of winning the
+superfluous."
+
+"Hermann is a German: he is economical--that is all!" observed Tomsky.
+"But if there is one person that I cannot understand, it is my
+grandmother, the Countess Anna Fedotovna."
+
+"How so?" inquired the guests.
+
+"I cannot understand," continued Tomsky, "how it is that my
+grandmother does not punt."
+
+"What is there remarkable about an old lady of eighty not punting?"
+said Narumov.
+
+"Then you do not know the reason why?"
+
+"No, really; haven't the faintest idea."
+
+"Oh! then listen. About sixty years ago, my grandmother went to Paris,
+where she created quite a sensation. People used to run after her to
+catch a glimpse of the 'Muscovite Venus.' Richelieu made love to her,
+and my grandmother maintains that he almost blew out his brains in
+consequence of her cruelty. At that time ladies used to play at faro.
+On one occasion at the Court, she lost a very considerable sum to the
+Duke of Orleans. On returning home, my grandmother removed the patches
+from her face, took off her hoops, informed my grandfather of her loss
+at the gaming-table, and ordered him to pay the money. My deceased
+grandfather, as far as I remember, was a sort of house-steward to my
+grandmother. He dreaded her like fire; but, on hearing of such a heavy
+loss, he almost went out of his mind; he calculated the various sums
+she had lost, and pointed out to her that in six months she had spent
+half a million francs, that neither their Moscow nor Saratov estates
+were in Paris, and finally refused point blank to pay the debt. My
+grandmother gave him a box on the ear and slept by herself as a sign
+of her displeasure. The next day she sent for her husband, hoping that
+this domestic punishment had produced an effect upon him, but she
+found him inflexible. For the first time in her life, she entered into
+reasonings and explanations with him, thinking to be able to convince
+him by pointing out to him that there are debts and debts, and that
+there is a great difference between a Prince and a coachmaker. But it
+was all in vain, my grandfather still remained obdurate. But the
+matter did not rest there. My grandmother did not know what to do. She
+had shortly before become acquainted with a very remarkable man. You
+have heard of Count St. Germain, about whom so many marvellous stories
+are told. You know that he represented himself as the Wandering Jew,
+as the discoverer of the elixir of life, of the philosopher's stone,
+and so forth. Some laughed at him as a charlatan; but Casanova, in his
+memoirs, says that he was a spy. But be that as it may, St. Germain,
+in spite of the mystery surrounding him, was a very fascinating
+person, and was much sought after in the best circles of society. Even
+to this day my grandmother retains an affectionate recollection of
+him, and becomes quite angry if any one speaks disrespectfully of him.
+My grandmother knew that St. Germain had large sums of money at his
+disposal. She resolved to have recourse to him, and she wrote a letter
+to him asking him to come to her without delay. The queer old man
+immediately waited upon her and found her overwhelmed with grief. She
+described to him in the blackest colours the barbarity of her husband,
+and ended by declaring that her whole hope depended upon his
+friendship and amiability.
+
+"St. Germain reflected.
+
+"'I could advance you the sum you want,' said he; 'but I know that you
+would not rest easy until you had paid me back, and I should not like
+to bring fresh troubles upon you. But there is another way of getting
+out of your difficulty: you can win back your money.'
+
+"'But, my dear Count,' replied my grandmother, 'I tell you that I
+haven't any money left.'
+
+"'Money is not necessary,' replied St. Germain: 'be pleased to listen
+to me.'
+
+"Then he revealed to her a secret, for which each of us would give a
+good deal..."
+
+The young officers listened with increased attention. Tomsky lit his
+pipe, puffed away for a moment and then continued:
+
+"That same evening my grandmother went to Versailles to the _jeu de la
+reine_. The Duke of Orleans kept the bank; my grandmother excused
+herself in an off-hand manner for not having yet paid her debt, by
+inventing some little story, and then began to play against him. She
+chose three cards and played them one after the other: all three won
+_sonika_, [Said of a card when it wins or loses in the quickest
+possible time.] and my grandmother recovered every farthing that she
+had lost."
+
+"Mere chance!" said one of the guests.
+
+"A tale!" observed Hermann.
+
+"Perhaps they were marked cards!" said a third.
+
+"I do not think so," replied Tomsky gravely.
+
+"What!" said Narumov, "you have a grandmother who knows how to hit
+upon three lucky cards in succession, and you have never yet succeeded
+in getting the secret of it out of her?"
+
+"That's the deuce of it!" replied Tomsky: "she had four sons, one of
+whom was my father; all four were determined gamblers, and yet not to
+one of them did she ever reveal her secret, although it would not have
+been a bad thing either for them or for me. But this is what I heard
+from my uncle, Count Ivan Ilyich, and he assured me, on his honour,
+that it was true. The late Chaplitzky--the same who died in poverty
+after having squandered millions--once lost, in his youth, about three
+hundred thousand roubles--to Zorich, if I remember rightly. He was in
+despair. My grandmother, who was always very severe upon the
+extravagance of young men, took pity, however, upon Chaplitzky. She
+gave him three cards, telling him to play them one after the other, at
+the same time exacting from him a solemn promise that he would never
+play at cards again as long as he lived. Chaplitzky then went to his
+victorious opponent, and they began a fresh game. On the first card he
+staked fifty thousand rubles and won _sonika_; he doubled the stake
+and won again, till at last, by pursuing the same tactics, he won back
+more than he had lost ...
+
+"But it is time to go to bed: it is a quarter to six already."
+
+And indeed it was already beginning to dawn: the young men emptied
+their glasses and then took leave of each other.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The old Countess A---- was seated in her dressing-room in front of her
+looking-glass. Three waiting maids stood around her. One held a small
+pot of rouge, another a box of hair-pins, and the third a tall can
+with bright red ribbons. The Countess had no longer the slightest
+pretensions to beauty, but she still preserved the habits of her
+youth, dressed in strict accordance with the fashion of seventy years
+before, and made as long and as careful a toilette as she would have
+done sixty years previously. Near the window, at an embroidery frame,
+sat a young lady, her ward.
+
+"Good morning, grandmamma," said a young officer, entering the room.
+"_Bonjour, Mademoiselle Lise_. Grandmamma, I want to ask you
+something."
+
+"What is it, Paul?"
+
+"I want you to let me introduce one of my friends to you, and to allow
+me to bring him to the ball on Friday."
+
+"Bring him direct to the ball and introduce him to me there. Were you
+at B----'s yesterday?"
+
+"Yes; everything went off very pleasantly, and dancing was kept up
+until five o'clock. How charming Yeletzkaya was!"
+
+"But, my dear, what is there charming about her? Isn't she like her
+grandmother, the Princess Daria Petrovna? By the way, she must be very
+old, the Princess Daria Petrovna."
+
+"How do you mean, old?" cried Tomsky thoughtlessly; "she died seven
+years ago."
+
+The young lady raised her head and made a sign to the young officer.
+He then remembered that the old Countess was never to be informed of
+the death of any of her contemporaries, and he bit his lips. But the
+old Countess heard the news with the greatest indifference.
+
+"Dead!" said she; "and I did not know it. We were appointed maids of
+honour at the same time, and when we were presented to the Empress..."
+
+And the Countess for the hundredth time related to her grandson one of
+her anecdotes.
+
+"Come, Paul," said she, when she had finished her story, "help me to
+get up. Lizanka, where is my snuff-box?"
+
+And the Countess with her three maids went behind a screen to finish
+her toilette. Tomsky was left alone with the young lady.
+
+"Who is the gentleman you wish to introduce to the Countess?" asked
+Lizaveta Ivanovna in a whisper.
+
+"Narumov. Do you know him?"
+
+"No. Is he a soldier or a civilian?"
+
+"A soldier."
+
+"Is he in the Engineers?"
+
+"No, in the Cavalry. What made you think that he was in the
+Engineers?"
+
+The young lady smiled, but made no reply.
+
+"Paul," cried the Countess from behind the screen, "send me some new
+novel, only pray don't let it be one of the present day style."
+
+"What do you mean, grandmother?"
+
+"That is, a novel, in which the hero strangles neither his father nor
+his mother, and in which there are no drowned bodies. I have a great
+horror of drowned persons."
+
+"There are no such novels nowadays. Would you like a Russian one?"
+
+"Are there any Russian novels? Send me one, my dear, pray send me
+one!"
+
+"Good-bye, grandmother: I am in a hurry... Good-bye, Lizaveta
+Ivanovna. What made you think that Narumov was in the Engineers?"
+
+And Tomsky left the boudoir.
+
+Lizaveta Ivanovna was left alone: she laid aside her work and began to
+look out of the window. A few moments afterwards, at a corner house on
+the other side of the street, a young officer appeared. A deep blush
+covered her cheeks; she took up her work again and bent her head down
+over the frame. At the same moment the Countess returned completely
+dressed.
+
+"Order the carriage, Lizaveta," said she; "we will go out for a
+drive."
+
+Lizaveta arose from the frame and began to arrange her work.
+
+"What is the matter with you, my child, are you deaf?" cried the
+Countess. "Order the carriage to be got ready at once."
+
+"I will do so this moment," replied the young lady, hastening into the
+ante-room.
+
+A servant entered and gave the Countess some books from Prince Paul
+Aleksandrovich.
+
+"Tell him that I am much obliged to him," said the Countess.
+"Lizaveta! Lizaveta! Where are you running to?"
+
+"I am going to dress."
+
+"There is plenty of time, my dear. Sit down here. Open the first
+volume and read to me aloud."
+
+Her companion took the book and read a few lines.
+
+"Louder," said the Countess. "What is the matter with you, my child?
+Have you lost your voice? Wait--give me that footstool--a little
+nearer--that will do."
+
+Lizaveta read two more pages. The Countess yawned.
+
+"Put the book down," said she: "what a lot of nonsense! Send it back
+to Prince Paul with my thanks... But where is the carriage?"
+
+"The carriage is ready," said Lizaveta, looking out into the street.
+
+"How is it that you are not dressed?" said the Countess: "I must
+always wait for you. It is intolerable, my dear!"
+
+Liza hastened to her room. She had not been there two minutes, before
+the Countess began to ring with all her might. The three waiting-maids
+came running in at one door and the valet at another.
+
+"How is it that you cannot hear me when I ring for you?" said the
+Countess. "Tell Lizaveta Ivanovna that I am waiting for her."
+
+Lizaveta returned with her hat and cloak on.
+
+"At last you are here!" said the Countess. "But why such an elaborate
+toilette? Whom do you intend to captivate? What sort of weather is it?
+It seems rather windy."
+
+"No, your Ladyship, it is very calm," replied the valet.
+
+"You never think of what you are talking about. Open the window. So it
+is: windy and bitterly cold. Unharness the horses. Lizaveta, we won't
+go out--there was no need for you to deck yourself like that."
+
+"What a life is mine!" thought Lizaveta Ivanovna.
+
+And, in truth, Lizaveta Ivanovna was a very unfortunate creature. "The
+bread of the stranger is bitter," says Dante, "and his staircase hard
+to climb." But who can know what the bitterness of dependence is so
+well as the poor companion of an old lady of quality? The Countess
+A---- had by no means a bad heart, but she was capricious, like a
+woman who had been spoilt by the world, as well as being avaricious
+and egotistical, like all old people who have seen their best days,
+and whose thoughts are with the past and not the present. She
+participated in all the vanities of the great world, went to balls,
+where she sat in a corner, painted and dressed in old-fashioned style,
+like a deformed but indispensable ornament of the ball-room; all the
+guests on entering approached her and made a profound bow, as if in
+accordance with a set ceremony, but after that nobody took any further
+notice of her. She received the whole town at her house, and observed
+the strictest etiquette, although she could no longer recognise the
+faces of people. Her numerous domestics, growing fat and old in her
+ante-chamber and servants' hall, did just as they liked, and vied with
+each other in robbing the aged Countess in the most bare-faced manner.
+Lizaveta Ivanovna was the martyr of the household. She made tea, and
+was reproached with using too much sugar; she read novels aloud to the
+Countess, and the faults of the author were visited upon her head; she
+accompanied the Countess in her walks, and was held answerable for the
+weather or the state of the pavement. A salary was attached to the
+post, but she very rarely received it, although she was expected to
+dress like everybody else, that is to say, like very few indeed. In
+society she played the most pitiable role. Everybody knew her, and
+nobody paid her any attention. At balls she danced only when a partner
+was wanted, and ladies would only take hold of her arm when it was
+necessary to lead her out of the room to attend to their dresses. She
+was very self-conscious, and felt her position keenly, and she looked
+about her with impatience for a deliverer to come to her rescue; but
+the young men, calculating in their giddiness, honoured her with but
+very little attention, although Lizaveta Ivanovna was a hundred times
+prettier than the bare-faced and cold-hearted marriageable girls
+around whom they hovered. Many a time did she quietly slink away from
+the glittering but wearisome drawing-room, to go and cry in her own
+poor little room, in which stood a screen, a chest of drawers, a
+looking-glass and a painted bedstead, and where a tallow candle burnt
+feebly in a copper candle-stick.
+
+One morning--this was about two days after the evening party described
+at the beginning of this story, and a week previous to the scene at
+which we have just assisted--Lizaveta Ivanovna was seated near the
+window at her embroidery frame, when, happening to look out into the
+street, she caught sight of a young Engineer officer, standing
+motionless with his eyes fixed upon her window. She lowered her head
+and went on again with her work. About five minutes afterwards she
+looked out again--the young officer was still standing in the same
+place. Not being in the habit of coquetting with passing officers, she
+did not continue to gaze out into the street, but went on sewing for a
+couple of hours, without raising her head. Dinner was announced. She
+rose up and began to put her embroidery away, but glancing casually
+out of the window, she perceived the officer again. This seemed to her
+very strange. After dinner she went to the window with a certain
+feeling of uneasiness, but the officer was no longer there--and she
+thought no more about him.
+
+A couple of days afterwards, just as she was stepping into the
+carriage with the Countess, she saw him again. He was standing close
+behind the door, with his face half-concealed by his fur collar, but
+his dark eyes sparkled beneath his cap. Lizaveta felt alarmed, though
+she knew not why, and she trembled as she seated herself in the
+carriage.
+
+On returning home, she hastened to the window--the officer was
+standing in his accustomed place, with his eyes fixed upon her. She
+drew back, a prey to curiosity and agitated by a feeling which was
+quite new to her.
+
+From that time forward not a day passed without the young officer
+making his appearance under the window at the customary hour, and
+between him and her there was established a sort of mute acquaintance.
+Sitting in her place at work, she used to feel his approach; and
+raising her head, she would look at him longer and longer each day.
+The young man seemed to be very grateful to her: she saw with the
+sharp eye of youth, how a sudden flush covered his pale cheeks each
+time that their glances met. After about a week she commenced to smile
+at him...
+
+When Tomsky asked permission of his grandmother the Countess to
+present one of his friends to her, the young girl's heart beat
+violently. But hearing that Narumov was not an Engineer, she regretted
+that by her thoughtless question, she had betrayed her secret to the
+volatile Tomsky.
+
+Hermann was the son of a German who had become a naturalised Russian,
+and from whom he had inherited a small capital. Being firmly convinced
+of the necessity of preserving his independence, Hermann did not touch
+his private income, but lived on his pay, without allowing himself the
+slightest luxury. Moreover, he was reserved and ambitious, and his
+companions rarely had an opportunity of making merry at the expense of
+his extreme parsimony. He had strong passions and an ardent
+imagination, but his firmness of disposition preserved him from the
+ordinary errors of young men. Thus, though a gamester at heart, he
+never touched a card, for he considered his position did not allow
+him--as he said--"to risk the necessary in the hope of winning the
+superfluous," yet he would sit for nights together at the card table
+and follow with feverish anxiety the different turns of the game.
+
+The story of the three cards had produced a powerful impression upon
+his imagination, and all night long he could think of nothing else.
+"If," he thought to himself the following evening, as he walked along
+the streets of St. Petersburg, "if the old Countess would but reveal
+her secret to me! if she would only tell me the names of the three
+winning cards. Why should I not try my fortune? I must get introduced
+to her and win her favour--become her lover... But all that will take
+time, and she is eighty-seven years old: she might be dead in a week,
+in a couple of days even!... But the story itself: can it really be
+true?... No! Economy, temperance and industry: those are my three
+winning cards; by means of them I shall be able to double my
+capital--increase it sevenfold, and procure for myself ease and
+independence."
+
+Musing in this manner, he walked on until he found himself in one of
+the principal streets of St. Petersburg, in front of a house of
+antiquated architecture. The street was blocked with equipages;
+carriages one after the other drew up in front of the brilliantly
+illuminated doorway. At one moment there stepped out on to the
+pavement the well-shaped little foot of some young beauty, at another
+the heavy boot of a cavalry officer, and then the silk stockings and
+shoes of a member of the diplomatic world. Furs and cloaks passed in
+rapid succession before the gigantic porter at the entrance.
+
+Hermann stopped. "Whose house is this?" he asked of the watchman at
+the corner.
+
+"The Countess A----'s," replied the watchman.
+
+Hermann started. The strange story of the three cards again presented
+itself to his imagination. He began walking up and down before the
+house, thinking of its owner and her strange secret. Returning late to
+his modest lodging, he could not go to sleep for a long time, and when
+at last he did doze off, he could dream of nothing but cards, green
+tables, piles of banknotes and heaps of ducats. He played one card
+after the other, winning uninterruptedly, and then he gathered up the
+gold and filled his pockets with the notes. When he woke up late the
+next morning, he sighed over the loss of his imaginary wealth, and
+then sallying out into the town, he found himself once more in front
+of the Countess's residence. Some unknown power seemed to have
+attracted him thither. He stopped and looked up at the windows. At one
+of these he saw a head with luxuriant black hair, which was bent down
+probably over some book or an embroidery frame. The head was raised.
+Hermann saw a fresh complexion and a pair of dark eyes. That moment
+decided his fate.
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Lizaveta Ivanovna had scarcely taken off her hat and cloak, when the
+Countess sent for her and again ordered her to get the carriage ready.
+The vehicle drew up before the door, and they prepared to take their
+seats. Just at the moment when two footmen were assisting the old lady
+to enter the carriage, Lizaveta saw her Engineer standing close beside
+the wheel; he grasped her hand; alarm caused her to lose her presence
+of mind, and the young man disappeared--but not before he had left a
+letter between her fingers. She concealed it in her glove, and during
+the whole of the drive she neither saw nor heard anything. It was the
+custom of the Countess, when out for an airing in her carriage, to be
+constantly asking such questions as: "Who was that person that met us
+just now? What is the name of this bridge? What is written on that
+signboard?" On this occasion, however, Lizaveta returned such vague
+and absurd answers, that the Countess became angry with her.
+
+"What is the matter with you, my dear?" she exclaimed. "Have you taken
+leave of your senses, or what is it? Do you not hear me or understand
+what I say?... Heaven be thanked, I am still in my right mind and
+speak plainly enough!"
+
+Lizaveta Ivanovna did not hear her. On returning home she ran to her
+room, and drew the letter out of her glove: it was not sealed.
+Lizaveta read it. The letter contained a declaration of love; it was
+tender, respectful, and copied word for word from a German novel. But
+Lizaveta did not know anything of the German language, and she was
+quite delighted.
+
+For all that, the letter caused her to feel exceedingly uneasy. For
+the first time in her life she was entering into secret and
+confidential relations with a young man. His boldness alarmed her. She
+reproached herself for her imprudent behaviour, and knew not what to
+do. Should she cease to sit at the window and, by assuming an
+appearance of indifference towards him, put a check upon the young
+officer's desire for further acquaintance with her? Should she send
+his letter back to him, or should she answer him in a cold and decided
+manner? There was nobody to whom she could turn in her perplexity, for
+she had neither female friend nor adviser... At length she resolved to
+reply to him.
+
+She sat down at her little writing-table, took pen and paper, and
+began to think. Several times she began her letter, and then tore it
+up: the way she had expressed herself seemed to her either too
+inviting or too cold and decisive. At last she succeeded in writing a
+few lines with which she felt satisfied.
+
+"I am convinced," she wrote, "that your intentions are honourable, and
+that you do not wish to offend me by any imprudent behaviour, but our
+acquaintance must not begin in such a manner. I return you your
+letter, and I hope that I shall never have any cause to complain of
+this undeserved slight."
+
+The next day, as soon as Hermann made his appearance, Lizaveta rose
+from her embroidery, went into the drawing-room, opened the ventilator
+and threw the letter into the street, trusting that the young officer
+would have the perception to pick it up.
+
+Hermann hastened forward, picked it up and then repaired to a
+confectioner's shop. Breaking the seal of the envelope, he found
+inside it his own letter and Lizaveta's reply. He had expected this,
+and he returned home, his mind deeply occupied with his intrigue.
+
+Three days afterwards, a bright-eyed young girl from a milliner's
+establishment brought Lizaveta a letter. Lizaveta opened it with great
+uneasiness, fearing that it was a demand for money, when suddenly she
+recognised Hermann's hand-writing.
+
+"You have made a mistake, my dear," said she: "this letter is not for
+me."
+
+"Oh, yes, it is for you," replied the girl, smiling very knowingly.
+"Have the goodness to read it."
+
+Lizaveta glanced at the letter. Hermann requested an interview.
+
+"It cannot be," she cried, alarmed at the audacious request, and the
+manner in which it was made. "This letter is certainly not for me."
+
+And she tore it into fragments.
+
+"If the letter was not for you, why have you torn it up?" said the
+girl. "I should have given it back to the person who sent it."
+
+"Be good enough, my dear," said Lizaveta, disconcerted by this remark,
+"not to bring me any more letters for the future, and tell the person
+who sent you that he ought to be ashamed..."
+
+But Hermann was not the man to be thus put off. Every day Lizaveta
+received from him a letter, sent now in this way, now in that. They
+were no longer translated from the German. Hermann wrote them under
+the inspiration of passion, and spoke in his own language, and they
+bore full testimony to the inflexibility of his desire and the
+disordered condition of his uncontrollable imagination. Lizaveta no
+longer thought of sending them back to him: she became intoxicated
+with them and began to reply to them, and little by little her answers
+became longer and more affectionate. At last she threw out of the
+window to him the following letter:
+
+"This evening there is going to be a ball at the Embassy. The Countess
+will be there. We shall remain until two o'clock. You have now an
+opportunity of seeing me alone. As soon as the Countess is gone, the
+servants will very probably go out, and there will be nobody left but
+the Swiss, but he usually goes to sleep in his lodge. Come about
+half-past eleven. Walk straight upstairs. If you meet anybody in the
+ante-room, ask if the Countess is at home. You will be told 'No,' in
+which case there will be nothing left for you to do but to go away
+again. But it is most probable that you will meet nobody. The
+maidservants will all be together in one room. On leaving the
+ante-room, turn to the left, and walk straight on until you reach the
+Countess's bedroom. In the bedroom, behind a screen, you will find two
+doors: the one on the right leads to a cabinet, which the Countess
+never enters; the one on the left leads to a corridor, at the end of
+which is a little winding staircase; this leads to my room."
+
+Hermann trembled like a tiger, as he waited for the appointed time to
+arrive. At ten o'clock in the evening he was already in front of the
+Countess's house. The weather was terrible; the wind blew with great
+violence; the sleety snow fell in large flakes; the lamps emitted a
+feeble light, the streets were deserted; from time to time a sledge,
+drawn by a sorry-looking hack, passed by, on the look-out for a
+belated passenger. Hermann was enveloped in a thick overcoat, and felt
+neither wind nor snow.
+
+At last the Countess's carriage drew up. Hermann saw two footmen carry
+out in their arms the bent form of the old lady, wrapped in sable fur,
+and immediately behind her, clad in a warm mantle, and with her head
+ornamented with a wreath of fresh flowers, followed Lizaveta. The door
+was closed. The carriage rolled away heavily through the yielding
+snow. The porter shut the street-door; the windows became dark.
+
+Hermann began walking up and down near the deserted house; at length
+he stopped under a lamp, and glanced at his watch: it was twenty
+minutes past eleven. He remained standing under the lamp, his eyes
+fixed upon the watch, impatiently waiting for the remaining minutes to
+pass. At half-past eleven precisely, Hermann ascended the steps of the
+house, and made his way into the brightly-illuminated vestibule. The
+porter was not there. Hermann hastily ascended the staircase, opened
+the door of the ante-room and saw a footman sitting asleep in an
+antique chair by the side of a lamp. With a light firm step Hermann
+passed by him. The drawing-room and dining-room were in darkness, but
+a feeble reflection penetrated thither from the lamp in the ante-room.
+
+Hermann reached the Countess's bedroom. Before a shrine, which was
+full of old images, a golden lamp was burning. Faded stuffed chairs
+and divans with soft cushions stood in melancholy symmetry around the
+room, the walls of which were hung with China silk. On one side of the
+room hung two portraits painted in Paris by Madame Lebrun. One of
+these represented a stout, red-faced man of about forty years of age
+in a bright-green uniform and with a star upon his breast; the
+other--a beautiful young woman, with an aquiline nose, forehead curls
+and a rose in her powdered hair. In the corners stood porcelain
+shepherds and shepherdesses, dining-room clocks from the workshop of
+the celebrated Lefroy, bandboxes, roulettes, fans and the various
+playthings for the amusement of ladies that were in vogue at the end
+of the last century, when Montgolfier's balloons and Mesmer's
+magnetism were the rage. Hermann stepped behind the screen. At the
+back of it stood a little iron bedstead; on the right was the door
+which led to the cabinet; on the left--the other which led to the
+corridor. He opened the latter, and saw the little winding staircase
+which led to the room of the poor companion... But he retraced his
+steps and entered the dark cabinet.
+
+The time passed slowly. All was still. The clock in the drawing-room
+struck twelve; the strokes echoed through the room one after the
+other, and everything was quiet again. Hermann stood leaning against
+the cold stove. He was calm; his heart beat regularly, like that of a
+man resolved upon a dangerous but inevitable undertaking. One o'clock
+in the morning struck; then two; and he heard the distant noise of
+carriage-wheels. An involuntary agitation took possession of him. The
+carriage drew near and stopped. He heard the sound of the
+carriage-steps being let down. All was bustle within the house. The
+servants were running hither and thither, there was a confusion of
+voices, and the rooms were lit up. Three antiquated chamber-maids
+entered the bedroom, and they were shortly afterwards followed by the
+Countess who, more dead than alive, sank into a Voltaire armchair.
+Hermann peeped through a chink. Lizaveta Ivanovna passed close by him,
+and he heard her hurried steps as she hastened up the little spiral
+staircase. For a moment his heart was assailed by something like a
+pricking of conscience, but the emotion was only transitory, and his
+heart became petrified as before.
+
+The Countess began to undress before her looking-glass. Her
+rose-bedecked cap was taken off, and then her powdered wig was removed
+from off her white and closely-cut hair. Hairpins fell in showers
+around her. Her yellow satin dress, brocaded with silver, fell down at
+her swollen feet.
+
+Hermann was a witness of the repugnant mysteries of her toilette; at
+last the Countess was in her night-cap and dressing-gown, and in this
+costume, more suitable to her age, she appeared less hideous and
+deformed.
+
+Like all old people in general, the Countess suffered from
+sleeplessness. Having undressed, she seated herself at the window in a
+Voltaire armchair and dismissed her maids. The candles were taken
+away, and once more the room was left with only one lamp burning in
+it. The Countess sat there looking quite yellow, mumbling with her
+flaccid lips and swaying to and fro. Her dull eyes expressed complete
+vacancy of mind, and, looking at her, one would have thought that the
+rocking of her body was not a voluntary action of her own, but was
+produced by the action of some concealed galvanic mechanism.
+
+Suddenly the death-like face assumed an inexplicable expression. The
+lips ceased to tremble, the eyes became animated: before the Countess
+stood an unknown man.
+
+"Do not be alarmed, for Heaven's sake, do not be alarmed!" said he in
+a low but distinct voice. "I have no intention of doing you any harm,
+I have only come to ask a favour of you."
+
+The old woman looked at him in silence, as if she had not heard what
+he had said. Hermann thought that she was deaf, and bending down
+towards her ear, he repeated what he had said. The aged Countess
+remained silent as before.
+
+"You can insure the happiness of my life," continued Hermann, "and it
+will cost you nothing. I know that you can name three cards in
+order--"
+
+Hermann stopped. The Countess appeared now to understand what he
+wanted; she seemed as if seeking for words to reply.
+
+"It was a joke," she replied at last: "I assure you it was only a
+joke."
+
+"There is no joking about the matter," replied Hermann angrily.
+"Remember Chaplitzky, whom you helped to win."
+
+The Countess became visibly uneasy. Her features expressed strong
+emotion, but they quickly resumed their former immobility.
+
+"Can you not name me these three winning cards?" continued Hermann.
+
+The Countess remained silent; Hermann continued:
+
+"For whom are you preserving your secret? For your grandsons? They are
+rich enough without it; they do not know the worth of money. Your
+cards would be of no use to a spendthrift. He who cannot preserve his
+paternal inheritance, will die in want, even though he had a demon at
+his service. I am not a man of that sort; I know the value of money.
+Your three cards will not be thrown away upon me. Come!"...
+
+He paused and tremblingly awaited her reply. The Countess remained
+silent; Hermann fell upon his knees.
+
+"If your heart has ever known the feeling of love," said he, "if you
+remember its rapture, if you have ever smiled at the cry of your
+new-born child, if any human feeling has ever entered into your
+breast, I entreat you by the feelings of a wife, a lover, a mother, by
+all that is most sacred in life, not to reject my prayer. Reveal to me
+your secret. Of what use is it to you?... May be it is connected with
+some terrible sin with the loss of eternal salvation, with some
+bargain with the devil... Reflect,--you are old; you have not long to
+live--I am ready to take your sins upon my soul. Only reveal to me
+your secret. Remember that the happiness of a man is in your hands,
+that not only I, but my children, and grandchildren will bless your
+memory and reverence you as a saint..."
+
+The old Countess answered not a word.
+
+Hermann rose to his feet.
+
+"You old hag!" he exclaimed, grinding his teeth, "then I will make you
+answer!"
+
+With these words he drew a pistol from his pocket.
+
+At the sight of the pistol, the Countess for the second time exhibited
+strong emotion. She shook her head and raised her hands as if to
+protect herself from the shot... then she fell backwards and remained
+motionless.
+
+"Come, an end to this childish nonsense!" said Hermann, taking hold of
+her hand. "I ask you for the last time: will you tell me the names of
+your three cards, or will you not?"
+
+The Countess made no reply. Hermann perceived that she was dead!
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+Lizaveta Ivanovna was sitting in her room, still in her ball dress,
+lost in deep thought. On returning home, she had hastily dismissed the
+chambermaid who very reluctantly came forward to assist her, saying
+that she would undress herself, and with a trembling heart had gone up
+to her own room, expecting to find Hermann there, but yet hoping not
+to find him. At the first glance she convinced herself that he was not
+there, and she thanked her fate for having prevented him keeping the
+appointment. She sat down without undressing, and began to recall to
+mind all the circumstances which in so short a time had carried her so
+far. It was not three weeks since the time when she first saw the
+young officer from the window--and yet she was already in
+correspondence with him, and he had succeeded in inducing her to grant
+him a nocturnal interview! She knew his name only through his having
+written it at the bottom of some of his letters; she had never spoken
+to him, had never heard his voice, and had never heard him spoken of
+until that evening. But, strange to say, that very evening at the
+ball, Tomsky, being piqued with the young Princess Pauline N----, who,
+contrary to her usual custom, did not flirt with him, wished to
+revenge himself by assuming an air of indifference: he therefore
+engaged Lizaveta Ivanovna and danced an endless mazurka with her.
+During the whole of the time he kept teasing her about her partiality
+for Engineer officers; he assured her that he knew far more than she
+imagined, and some of his jests were so happily aimed, that Lizaveta
+thought several times that her secret was known to him.
+
+"From whom have you learnt all this?" she asked, smiling.
+
+"From a friend of a person very well known to you," replied Tomsky,
+"from a very distinguished man."
+
+"And who is this distinguished man?"
+
+"His name is Hermann."
+
+Lizaveta made no reply; but her hands and feet lost all sense of
+feeling.
+
+"This Hermann," continued Tomsky, "is a man of romantic personality.
+He has the profile of a Napoleon, and the soul of a Mephistopheles. I
+believe that he has at least three crimes upon his conscience... How
+pale you have become!"
+
+"I have a headache... But what did this Hermann--or whatever his name
+is--tell you?"
+
+"Hermann is very much dissatisfied with his friend: he says that in
+his place he would act very differently... I even think that Hermann
+himself has designs upon you; at least, he listens very attentively to
+all that his friend has to say about you."
+
+"And where has he seen me?"
+
+"In church, perhaps; or on the parade--God alone knows where. It may
+have been in your room, while you were asleep, for there is nothing
+that he--"
+
+Three ladies approaching him with the question: "_oubli ou regret_?"
+interrupted the conversation, which had become so tantalisingly
+interesting to Lizaveta.
+
+The lady chosen by Tomsky was the Princess Pauline herself. She
+succeeded in effecting a reconciliation with him during the numerous
+turns of the dance, after which he conducted her to her chair. On
+returning to his place, Tomsky thought no more either of Hermann or
+Lizaveta. She longed to renew the interrupted conversation, but the
+mazurka came to an end, and shortly afterwards the old Countess took
+her departure.
+
+Tomsky's words were nothing more than the customary small talk of the
+dance, but they sank deep into the soul of the young dreamer. The
+portrait, sketched by Tomsky, coincided with the picture she had
+formed within her own mind, and thanks to the latest romances, the
+ordinary countenance of her admirer became invested with attributes
+capable of alarming her and fascinating her imagination at the same
+time. She was now sitting with her bare arms crossed and with her
+head, still adorned with flowers, sunk upon her uncovered bosom.
+Suddenly the door opened and Hermann entered. She shuddered.
+
+"Where were you?" she asked in a terrified whisper.
+
+"In the old Countess's bedroom," replied Hermann: "I have just left
+her. The Countess is dead."
+
+"My God! What do you say?"
+
+"And I am afraid," added Hermann, "that I am the cause of her death."
+
+Lizaveta looked at him, and Tomsky's words found an echo in her soul:
+"This man has at least three crimes upon his conscience!" Hermann sat
+down by the window near her, and related all that had happened.
+
+Lizaveta listened to him in terror. So all those passionate letters,
+those ardent desires, this bold obstinate pursuit--all this was not
+love! Money--that was what his soul yearned for! She could not satisfy
+his desire and make him happy! The poor girl had been nothing but
+the blind tool of a robber, of the murderer of her aged
+benefactress!... She wept bitter tears of agonised repentance. Hermann
+gazed at her in silence: his heart, too, was a prey to violent
+emotion, but neither the tears of the poor girl, nor the wonderful
+charm of her beauty, enhanced by her grief, could produce any
+impression upon his hardened soul. He felt no pricking of conscience
+at the thought of the dead old woman. One thing only grieved him: the
+irreparable loss of the secret from which he had expected to obtain
+great wealth.
+
+"You are a monster!" said Lizaveta at last.
+
+"I did not wish for her death," replied Hermann: "my pistol was not
+loaded."
+
+Both remained silent.
+
+The day began to dawn. Lizaveta extinguished her candle: a pale light
+illumined her room. She wiped her tear-stained eyes and raised them
+towards Hermann: he was sitting near the window, with his arms crossed
+and with a fierce frown upon his forehead. In this attitude he bore a
+striking resemblance to the portrait of Napoleon. This resemblance
+struck Lizaveta even.
+
+"How shall I get you out of the house?" said she at last. "I thought
+of conducting you down the secret staircase, but in that case it would
+be necessary to go through the Countess's bedroom, and I am afraid."
+
+"Tell me how to find this secret staircase--I will go alone."
+
+Lizaveta arose, took from her drawer a key, handed it to Hermann and
+gave him the necessary instructions. Hermann pressed her cold, limp
+hand, kissed her bowed head, and left the room.
+
+He descended the winding staircase, and once more entered the
+Countess's bedroom. The dead old lady sat as if petrified; her face
+expressed profound tranquillity. Hermann stopped before her, and gazed
+long and earnestly at her, as if he wished to convince himself of the
+terrible reality; at last he entered the cabinet, felt behind the
+tapestry for the door, and then began to descend the dark staircase,
+filled with strange emotions. "Down this very staircase," thought he,
+"perhaps coming from the very same room, and at this very same hour
+sixty years ago, there may have glided, in an embroidered coat, with
+his hair dressed _à l'oiseau royal_ and pressing to his heart his
+three-cornered hat, some young gallant, who has long been mouldering
+in the grave, but the heart of his aged mistress has only to-day
+ceased to beat..."
+
+At the bottom of the staircase Hermann found a door, which he opened
+with a key, and then traversed a corridor which conducted him into the
+street.
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+Three days after the fatal night, at nine o'clock in the morning,
+Hermann repaired to the Convent of ----, where the last honours were
+to be paid to the mortal remains of the old Countess. Although feeling
+no remorse, he could not altogether stifle the voice of conscience,
+which said to him: "You are the murderer of the old woman!" In spite
+of his entertaining very little religious belief, he was exceedingly
+superstitious; and believing that the dead Countess might exercise an
+evil influence on his life, he resolved to be present at her obsequies
+in order to implore her pardon.
+
+The church was full. It was with difficulty that Hermann made his way
+through the crowd of people. The coffin was placed upon a rich
+catafalque beneath a velvet baldachin. The deceased Countess lay
+within it, with her hands crossed upon her breast, with a lace cap
+upon her head and dressed in a white satin robe. Around the catafalque
+stood the members of her household: the servants in black _caftans_,
+with armorial ribbons upon their shoulders, and candles in their
+hands; the relatives--children, grandchildren, and
+great-grandchildren--in deep mourning.
+
+Nobody wept; tears would have been _une affectation_. The Countess was
+so old, that her death could have surprised nobody, and her relatives
+had long looked upon her as being out of the world. A famous preacher
+pronounced the funeral sermon. In simple and touching words he
+described the peaceful passing away of the righteous, who had passed
+long years in calm preparation for a Christian end. "The angel of
+death found her," said the orator, "engaged in pious meditation and
+waiting for the midnight bridegroom."
+
+The service concluded amidst profound silence. The relatives went
+forward first to take farewell of the corpse. Then followed the
+numerous guests, who had come to render the last homage to her who for
+so many years had been a participator in their frivolous amusements.
+After these followed the members of the Countess's household. The last
+of these was an old woman of the same age as the deceased. Two young
+women led her forward by the hand. She had not strength enough to bow
+down to the ground--she merely shed a few tears and kissed the cold
+hand of her mistress.
+
+Hermann now resolved to approach the coffin. He knelt down upon the
+cold stones and remained in that position for some minutes; at last he
+arose, as pale as the deceased Countess herself; he ascended the steps
+of the catafalque and bent over the corpse... At that moment it seemed
+to him that the dead woman darted a mocking look at him and winked
+with one eye. Hermann started back, took a false step and fell to the
+ground. Several persons hurried forward and raised him up. At the same
+moment Lizaveta Ivanovna was borne fainting into the porch of the
+church. This episode disturbed for some minutes the solemnity of the
+gloomy ceremony. Among the congregation arose a deep murmur, and a
+tall thin chamberlain, a near relative of the deceased, whispered in
+the ear of an Englishman who was standing near him, that the young
+officer was a natural son of the Countess, to which the Englishman
+coldly replied: "Oh!"
+
+During the whole of that day, Hermann was strangely excited. Repairing
+to an out-of-the-way restaurant to dine, he drank a great deal of
+wine, contrary to his usual custom, in the hope of deadening his
+inward agitation. But the wine only served to excite his imagination
+still more. On returning home, he threw himself upon his bed without
+undressing, and fell into a deep sleep.
+
+When he woke up it was already night, and the moon was shining into
+the room. He looked at his watch: it was a quarter to three. Sleep had
+left him; he sat down upon his bed and thought of the funeral of the
+old Countess.
+
+At that moment somebody in the street looked in at his window, and
+immediately passed on again. Hermann paid no attention to this
+incident. A few moments afterwards he heard the door of his ante-room
+open. Hermann thought that it was his orderly, drunk as usual,
+returning from some nocturnal expedition, but presently he heard
+footsteps that were unknown to him: somebody was walking softly over
+the floor in slippers. The door opened, and a woman dressed in white,
+entered the room. Hermann mistook her for his old nurse, and wondered
+what could bring her there at that hour of the night. But the white
+woman glided rapidly across the room and stood before him--and Hermann
+recognised the Countess!
+
+"I have come to you against my wish," she said in a firm voice: "but I
+have been ordered to grant your request. Three, seven, ace, will win
+for you if played in succession, but only on these conditions: that
+you do not play more than one card in twenty-four hours, and that you
+never play again during the rest of your life. I forgive you my death,
+on condition that you marry my companion, Lizaveta Ivanovna."
+
+With these words she turned round very quietly, walked with a
+shuffling gait towards the door and disappeared. Hermann heard the
+street-door open and shut, and again he saw some one look in at him
+through the window.
+
+For a long time Hermann could not recover himself. He then rose up and
+entered the next room. His orderly was lying asleep upon the floor,
+and he had much difficulty in waking him. The orderly was drunk as
+usual, and no information could be obtained from him. The street-door
+was locked. Hermann returned to his room, lit his candle, and wrote
+down all the details of his vision.
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+Two fixed ideas can no more exist together in the moral world than two
+bodies can occupy one and the same place in the physical world.
+"Three, seven, ace," soon drove out of Hermann's mind the thought of
+the dead Countess. "Three, seven, ace," were perpetually running
+through his head and continually being repeated by his lips. If he saw
+a young girl, he would say: "How slender she is! quite like the three
+of hearts." If anybody asked: "What is the time?" he would reply:
+"Five minutes to seven." Every stout man that he saw reminded him of
+the ace. "Three, seven, ace" haunted him in his sleep, and assumed all
+possible shapes. The threes bloomed before him in the forms of
+magnificent flowers, the sevens were represented by Gothic portals,
+and the aces became transformed into gigantic spiders. One thought
+alone occupied his whole mind--to make a profitable use of the secret
+which he had purchased so dearly. He thought of applying for a
+furlough so as to travel abroad. He wanted to go to Paris and tempt
+fortune in some of the public gambling-houses that abounded there.
+Chance spared him all this trouble.
+
+There was in Moscow a society of rich gamesters, presided over by the
+celebrated Chekalinsky, who had passed all his life at the card-table
+and had amassed millions, accepting bills of exchange for his winnings
+and paying his losses in ready money. His long experience secured for
+him the confidence of his companions, and his open house, his famous
+cook, and his agreeable and fascinating manners gained for him the
+respect of the public. He came to St. Petersburg. The young men of the
+capital flocked to his rooms, forgetting balls for cards, and
+preferring the emotions of faro to the seductions of flirting. Narumov
+conducted Hermann to Chekalinsky's residence.
+
+They passed through a suite of magnificent rooms, filled with
+attentive domestics. The place was crowded. Generals and Privy
+Counsellors were playing at whist; young men were lolling carelessly
+upon the velvet-covered sofas, eating ices and smoking pipes. In the
+drawing-room, at the head of a long table, around which were assembled
+about a score of players, sat the master of the house keeping the
+bank. He was a man of about sixty years of age, of a very dignified
+appearance; his head was covered with silvery-white hair; his full,
+florid countenance expressed good-nature, and his eyes twinkled with a
+perpetual smile. Narumov introduced Hermann to him. Chekalinsky shook
+him by the hand in a friendly manner, requested him not to stand on
+ceremony, and then went on dealing.
+
+The game occupied some time. On the table lay more than thirty cards.
+Chekalinsky paused after each throw, in order to give the players time
+to arrange their cards and note down their losses, listened politely
+to their requests, and more politely still, put straight the corners
+of cards that some player's hand had chanced to bend. At last the game
+was finished. Chekalinsky shuffled the cards and prepared to deal
+again.
+
+"Will you allow me to take a card?" said Hermann, stretching out his
+hand from behind a stout gentleman who was punting.
+
+Chekalinsky smiled and bowed silently, as a sign of acquiescence.
+Narumov laughingly congratulated Hermann on his abjuration of that
+abstention from cards which he had practised for so long a period, and
+wished him a lucky beginning.
+
+"Stake!" said Hermann, writing some figures with chalk on the back of
+his card.
+
+"How much?" asked the banker, contracting the muscles of his eyes;
+"excuse me, I cannot see quite clearly."
+
+"Forty-seven thousand rubles," replied Hermann.
+
+At these words every head in the room turned suddenly round, and all
+eyes were fixed upon Hermann.
+
+"He has taken leave of his senses!" thought Narumov.
+
+"Allow me to inform you," said Chekalinsky, with his eternal smile,
+"that you are playing very high; nobody here has ever staked more than
+two hundred and seventy-five rubles at once."
+
+"Very well," replied Hermann; "but do you accept my card or not?"
+
+Chekalinsky bowed in token of consent.
+
+"I only wish to observe," said he, "that although I have the greatest
+confidence in my friends, I can only play against ready money. For my
+own part, I am quite convinced that your word is sufficient, but for
+the sake of the order of the game, and to facilitate the reckoning up,
+I must ask you to put the money on your card."
+
+Hermann drew from his pocket a bank-note and handed it to Chekalinsky,
+who, after examining it in a cursory manner, placed it on Hermann's
+card.
+
+He began to deal. On the right a nine turned up, and on the left a
+three.
+
+"I have won!" said Hermann, showing his card.
+
+A murmur of astonishment arose among the players. Chekalinsky frowned,
+but the smile quickly returned to his face.
+
+"Do you wish me to settle with you?" he said to Hermann.
+
+"If you please," replied the latter.
+
+Chekalinsky drew from his pocket a number of banknotes and paid at
+once. Hermann took up his money and left the table. Narumov could not
+recover from his astonishment. Hermann drank a glass of lemonade and
+returned home.
+
+The next evening he again repaired to Chekalinsky's. The host was
+dealing. Hermann walked up to the table; the punters immediately made
+room for him. Chekalinsky greeted him with a gracious bow.
+
+Hermann waited for the next deal, took a card and placed upon it his
+forty-seven thousand roubles, together with his winnings of the
+previous evening.
+
+Chekalinsky began to deal. A knave turned up on the right, a seven on
+the left.
+
+Hermann showed his seven.
+
+There was a general exclamation. Chekalinsky was evidently ill at
+ease, but he counted out the ninety-four thousand rubles and handed
+them over to Hermann, who pocketed them in the coolest manner possible
+and immediately left the house.
+
+The next evening Hermann appeared again at the table. Every one was
+expecting him. The generals and Privy Counsellors left their whist in
+order to watch such extraordinary play. The young officers quitted
+their sofas, and even the servants crowded into the room. All pressed
+round Hermann. The other players left off punting, impatient to see
+how it would end. Hermann stood at the table and prepared to play
+alone against the pale, but still smiling Chekalinsky. Each opened a
+pack of cards. Chekalinsky shuffled. Hermann took a card and covered
+it with a pile of bank-notes. It was like a duel. Deep silence reigned
+around.
+
+Chekalinsky began to deal; his hands trembled. On the right a queen
+turned up, and on the left an ace.
+
+"Ace has won!" cried Hermann, showing his card.
+
+"Your queen has lost," said Chekalinsky, politely.
+
+Hermann started; instead of an ace, there lay before him the queen of
+spades! He could not believe his eyes, nor could he understand how he
+had made such a mistake.
+
+At that moment it seemed to him that the queen of spades smiled
+ironically and winked her eye at him. He was struck by her remarkable
+resemblance...
+
+"The old Countess!" he exclaimed, seized with terror.
+
+Chekalinsky gathered up his winnings. For some time, Hermann remained
+perfectly motionless. When at last he left the table, there was a
+general commotion in the room.
+
+"Splendidly punted!" said the players. Chekalinsky shuffled the cards
+afresh, and the game went on as usual.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Hermann went out of his mind, and is now confined in room Number 17 of
+the Obukhov Hospital. He never answers any questions, but he
+constantly mutters with unusual rapidity: "Three, seven, ace!" "Three,
+seven, queen!"
+
+Lizaveta Ivanovna has married a very amiable young man, a son of the
+former steward of the old Countess. He is in the service of the State
+somewhere, and is in receipt of a good income. Lizaveta is also
+supporting a poor relative.
+
+Tomsky has been promoted to the rank of captain, and has become the
+husband of the Princess Pauline.
+
+
+
+
+THE CLOAK
+
+
+
+BY NIKOLAY V. GOGOL
+
+
+In the department of----, but it is better not to mention the
+department. The touchiest things in the world are departments,
+regiments, courts of justice, in a word, all branches of public
+service. Each individual nowadays thinks all society insulted in his
+person. Quite recently, a complaint was received from a district chief
+of police in which he plainly demonstrated that all the imperial
+institutions were going to the dogs, and that the Czar's sacred name
+was being taken in vain; and in proof he appended to the complaint a
+romance, in which the district chief of police is made to appear about
+once in every ten pages, and sometimes in a downright drunken
+condition. Therefore, in order to avoid all unpleasantness, it will be
+better to designate the department in question, as a certain
+department.
+
+So, in a certain department there was a certain official--not a very
+notable one, it must be allowed--short of stature, somewhat
+pock-marked, red-haired, and mole-eyed, with a bald forehead, wrinkled
+cheeks, and a complexion of the kind known as sanguine. The St.
+Petersburg climate was responsible for this. As for his official
+rank--with us Russians the rank comes first--he was what is called a
+perpetual titular councillor, over which, as is well known, some
+writers make merry and crack their jokes, obeying the praiseworthy
+custom of attacking those who cannot bite back.
+
+His family name was Bashmachkin. This name is evidently derived from
+bashmak (shoe); but, when, at what time, and in what manner, is not
+known. His father and grandfather, and all the Bashmachkins, always
+wore boots, which were resoled two or three times a year. His name was
+Akaky Akakiyevich. It may strike the reader as rather singular and
+far-fetched; but he may rest assured that it was by no means
+far-fetched, and that the circumstances were such that it would have
+been impossible to give him any other.
+
+This was how it came about.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich was born, if my memory fails me not, in the evening
+on the 23rd of March. His mother, the wife of a Government official,
+and a very fine woman, made all due arrangements for having the child
+baptised. She was lying on the bed opposite the door; on her right
+stood the godfather, Ivan Ivanovich Eroshkin, a most estimable man,
+who served as the head clerk of the senate; and the godmother, Arina
+Semyonovna Bielobrinshkova, the wife of an officer of the quarter, and
+a woman of rare virtues. They offered the mother her choice of three
+names, Mokiya, Sossiya, or that the child should be called after the
+martyr Khozdazat. "No," said the good woman, "all those names are
+poor." In order to please her, they opened the calendar at another
+place; three more names appeared, Triphily, Dula, and Varakhasy. "This
+is awful," said the old woman. "What names! I truly never heard the
+like. I might have put up with Varadat or Varukh, but not Triphily and
+Varakhasy!" They turned to another page and found Pavsikakhy and
+Vakhtisy. "Now I see," said the old woman, "that it is plainly fate.
+And since such is the case, it will be better to name him after his
+father. His father's name was Akaky, so let his son's name be Akaky
+too." In this manner he became Akaky Akakiyevich. They christened the
+child, whereat he wept, and made a grimace, as though he foresaw that
+he was to be a titular councillor.
+
+In this manner did it all come about. We have mentioned it in order
+that the reader might see for himself that it was a case of necessity,
+and that it was utterly impossible to give him any other name.
+
+When and how he entered the department, and who appointed him, no one
+could remember. However much the directors and chiefs of all kinds
+were changed, he was always to be seen in the same place, the same
+attitude, the same occupation--always the letter-copying clerk--so
+that it was afterwards affirmed that he had been born in uniform with
+a bald head. No respect was shown him in the department. The porter
+not only did not rise from his seat when he passed, but never even
+glanced at him, any more than if a fly had flown through the
+reception-room. His superiors treated him in coolly despotic fashion.
+Some insignificant assistant to the head clerk would thrust a paper
+under his nose without so much as saying, "Copy," or, "Here's an
+interesting little case," or anything else agreeable, as is customary
+amongst well-bred officials. And he took it, looking only at the
+paper, and not observing who handed it to him, or whether he had the
+right to do so; simply took it, and set about copying it.
+
+The young officials laughed at and made fun of him, so far as their
+official wit permitted; told in his presence various stories concocted
+about him, and about his landlady, an old woman of seventy; declared
+that she beat him; asked when the wedding was to be; and strewed bits
+of paper over his head, calling them snow. But Akaky Akakiyevich
+answered not a word, any more than if there had been no one there
+besides himself. It even had no effect upon his work. Amid all these
+annoyances he never made a single mistake in a letter. But if the
+joking became wholly unbearable, as when they jogged his head, and
+prevented his attending to his work, he would exclaim:
+
+"Leave me alone! Why do you insult me?"
+
+And there was something strange in the words and the voice in which
+they were uttered. There was in it something which moved to pity; so
+much so that one young man, a newcomer, who, taking pattern by the
+others, had permitted himself to make sport of Akaky, suddenly stopped
+short, as though all about him had undergone a transformation, and
+presented itself in a different aspect. Some unseen force repelled him
+from the comrades whose acquaintance he had made, on the supposition
+that they were decent, well-bred men. Long afterwards, in his gayest
+moments, there recurred to his mind the little official with the bald
+forehead, with his heart-rending words, "Leave me alone! Why do you
+insult me?" In these moving words, other words resounded--"I am thy
+brother." And the young man covered his face with his hand; and many a
+time afterwards, in the course of his life, shuddered at seeing how
+much inhumanity there is in man, how much savage coarseness is
+concealed beneath refined, cultured, worldly refinement, and even, O
+God! in that man whom the world acknowledges as honourable and
+upright.
+
+It would be difficult to find another man who lived so entirely for
+his duties. It is not enough to say that Akaky laboured with zeal; no,
+he laboured with love. In his copying, he found a varied and agreeable
+employment. Enjoyment was written on his face; some letters were even
+favourites with him; and when he encountered these, he smiled, winked,
+and worked with his lips, till it seemed as though each letter might
+be read in his face, as his pen traced it. If his pay had been in
+proportion to his zeal, he would, perhaps, to his great surprise, have
+been made even a councillor of state. But he worked, as his
+companions, the wits, put it, like a horse in a mill.
+
+However, it would be untrue to say that no attention was paid to him.
+One director being a kindly man, and desirous of rewarding him for his
+long service, ordered him to be given something more important than
+mere copying. So he was ordered to make a report of an already
+concluded affair, to another department; the duty consisting simply in
+changing the heading and altering a few words from the first to the
+third person. This caused him so much toil, that he broke into a
+perspiration, rubbed his forehead, and finally said, "No, give me
+rather something to copy." After that they let him copy on forever.
+
+Outside this copying, it appeared that nothing existed for him. He
+gave no thought to his clothes. His uniform was not green, but a sort
+of rusty-meal colour. The collar was low, so that his neck, in spite
+of the fact that it was not long, seemed inordinately so as it emerged
+from it, like the necks of the plaster cats which pedlars carry about
+on their heads. And something was always sticking to his uniform,
+either a bit of hay or some trifle. Moreover, he had a peculiar knack,
+as he walked along the street, of arriving beneath a window just as
+all sorts of rubbish was being flung out of it; hence he always bore
+about on his hat scraps of melon rinds, and other such articles. Never
+once in his life did he give heed to what was going on every day to
+the street; while it is well known that his young brother officials
+trained the range of their glances till they could see when any one's
+trouser-straps came undone upon the opposite sidewalk, which always
+brought a malicious smile to their faces. But Akaky Akakiyevich saw in
+all things the clean, even strokes of his written lines; and only when
+a horse thrust his nose, from some unknown quarter, over his shoulder,
+and sent a whole gust of wind down his neck from his nostrils, did he
+observe that he was not in the middle of a line, but in the middle of
+the street.
+
+On reaching home, he sat down at once at the table, sipped his
+cabbage-soup up quickly, and swallowed a bit of beef with onions,
+never noticing their taste, and gulping down everything with flies and
+anything else which the Lord happened to send at the moment. When he
+saw that his stomach was beginning to swell, he rose from the table,
+and copied papers which he had brought home. If there happened to be
+none, he took copies for himself, for his own gratification,
+especially if the document was noteworthy, not on account of its
+style, but of its being addressed to some distinguished person.
+
+Even at the hour when the grey St. Petersburg sky had quite
+disappeared, and all the official world had eaten or dined, each as he
+could, in accordance with the salary he received and his own fancy;
+when, all were resting from the department jar of pens, running to and
+fro, for their own and other people's indispensable occupations, and
+from all the work that an uneasy man makes willingly for himself,
+rather than what is necessary; when, officials hasten to dedicate to
+pleasure the time which is left to them, one bolder than the rest,
+going to the theatre; another; into the street looking under the
+bonnets; another, wasting his evening in compliments to some pretty
+girl, the star of a small official circle; another--and this is the
+common case of all--visiting his comrades on the third or fourth
+floor, in two small rooms with an ante-room or kitchen, and some
+pretensions to fashion, such as a lamp or some other trifle which has
+cost many a sacrifice of dinner or pleasure trip; in a word, at the
+hour when all officials disperse among the contracted quarters of
+their friends, to play whist, as they sip their tea from glasses with
+a kopek's worth of sugar, smoke long pipes, relate at time some bits
+of gossip which a Russian man can never, under any circumstances,
+refrain from, and when there is nothing else to talk of, repeat
+eternal anecdotes about the commandant to whom they had sent word that
+the tails of the horses on the Falconet Monument had been cut off;
+when all strive to divert themselves, Akaky Akakiyevich indulged in no
+kind of diversion. No one could even say that he had seen him at any
+kind of evening party. Having written to his heart's content, he lay
+down to sleep, smiling at the thought of the coming day--of what God
+might send him to copy on the morrow.
+
+Thus flowed on the peaceful life of the man, who, with a salary of
+four hundred rubles, understood how to be content with his lot; and
+thus it would have continued to flow on, perhaps, to extreme old age,
+were it not that there are various ills strewn along the path of life
+for titular councillors as well as for private, actual, court, and
+every other species of councillor, even to those who never give any
+advice or take any themselves.
+
+There exists in St. Petersburg a powerful foe of all who receive a
+salary of four hundred rubles a year, or there-abouts. This foe is no
+other than the Northern cold, although it is said to be very healthy.
+At nine o'clock in the morning, at the very hour when the streets are
+filled with men bound for the various official departments, it begins
+to bestow such powerful and piercing nips on all noses impartially,
+that the poor officials really do not know what to do with them. At an
+hour, when the foreheads of even those who occupy exalted positions
+ache with the cold, and tears start to their eyes, the poor titular
+councillors are sometimes quite unprotected. Their only salvation lies
+in traversing as quickly as possible, in their thin little cloaks,
+five or six streets, and then warming their feet in the porter's room,
+and so thawing all their talents and qualifications for official
+service, which had become frozen on the way.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich had felt for some time that his back and shoulders
+were paining with peculiar poignancy, in spite of the fact that he
+tried to traverse the distance with all possible speed. He began
+finally to wonder whether the fault did not lie in his cloak. He
+examined it thoroughly at home, and discovered that in two places,
+namely, on the back and shoulders, it had become thin as gauze. The
+cloth was worn to such a degree that he could see through it, and the
+lining had fallen into pieces. You must know that Akaky Akakiyevich's
+cloak served as an object of ridicule to the officials. They even
+refused it the noble name of cloak, and called it a cape. In fact, it
+was of singular make, its collar diminishing year by year to serve to
+patch its other parts. The patching did not exhibit great skill on the
+part of the tailor, and was, in fact, baggy and ugly. Seeing how the
+matter stood, Akaky Akakiyevich decided that it would be necessary to
+take the cloak to Petrovich, the tailor, who lived somewhere on the
+fourth floor up a dark staircase, and who, in spite of his having but
+one eye and pock-marks all over his face, busied himself with
+considerable success in repairing the trousers and coats of officials
+and others; that is to say, when he was sober and not nursing some
+other scheme in his head.
+
+It is not necessary to say much about this tailor, but as it is the
+custom to have the character of each personage in a novel clearly
+defined there is no help for it, so here is Petrovich the tailor. At
+first he was called only Grigory, and was some gentleman's serf. He
+commenced calling himself Petrovich from the time when he received his
+free papers, and further began to drink heavily on all holidays, at
+first on the great ones, and then on all church festivals without
+discrimination, wherever a cross stood in the calendar. On this point
+he was faithful to ancestral custom; and when quarrelling with his
+wife, he called her a low female and a German. As we have mentioned
+his wife, it will be necessary to say a word or two about her.
+Unfortunately, little is known of her beyond the fact that Petrovich
+had a wife, who wore a cap and a dress, but could not lay claim to
+beauty, at least, no one but the soldiers of the guard even looked
+under her cap when they met her.
+
+Ascending the staircase which led to Petrovich's room--which staircase
+was all soaked with dish-water and reeked with the smell of spirits
+which affects the eyes, and is an inevitable adjunct to all dark
+stairways in St. Petersburg houses--ascending the stairs, Akaky
+Akakiyevich pondered how much Petrovich would ask, and mentally
+resolved not to give more than two rubles. The door was open, for the
+mistress, in cooking some fish, had raised such a smoke in the kitchen
+that not even the beetles were visible. Akaky Akakiyevich passed
+through the kitchen unperceived, even by the housewife, and at length
+reached a room where he beheld Petrovich seated on a large unpainted
+table, with his legs tucked under him like a Turkish pasha. His feet
+were bare, after the fashion of tailors as they sit at work; and the
+first thing which caught the eye was his thumb, with a deformed nail
+thick and strong as a turtle's shell. About Petrovich's neck hung a
+skein of silk and thread, and upon his knees lay some old garment. He
+had been trying unsuccessfully for three minutes to thread his needle,
+and was enraged at the darkness and even at the thread, growling in a
+low voice, "It won't go through, the barbarian! you pricked me, you
+rascal!"
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich was vexed at arriving at the precise moment when
+Petrovich was angry. He liked to order something of Petrovich when he
+was a little downhearted, or, as his wife expressed it, "when he had
+settled himself with brandy, the one-eyed devil!" Under such
+circumstances Petrovich generally came down in his price very readily,
+and even bowed and returned thanks. Afterwards, to be sure, his wife
+would come, complaining that her husband had been drunk, and so had
+fixed the price too low; but, if only a ten-kopek piece were added
+then the matter would be settled. But now it appeared that Petrovich
+was in a sober condition, and therefore rough, taciturn, and inclined
+to demand, Satan only knows what price. Akaky Akakiyevich felt this,
+and would gladly have beat a retreat, but he was in for it. Petrovich
+screwed up his one eye very intently at him, and Akaky Akakiyevich
+involuntarily said, "How do you do, Petrovich?"
+
+"I wish you a good morning, sir," said Petrovich squinting at Akaky
+Akakiyevich's hands, to see what sort of booty he had brought.
+
+"Ah! I--to you, Petrovich, this--" It must be known that Akaky
+Akakiyevich expressed himself chiefly by prepositions, adverbs, and
+scraps of phrases which had no meaning whatever. If the matter was a
+very difficult one, he had a habit of never completing his sentences,
+so that frequently, having begun a phrase with the words, "This, in
+fact, is quite--" he forgot to go on, thinking he had already finished
+it.
+
+"What is it?" asked Petrovich, and with his one eye scanned Akaky
+Akakiyevich's whole uniform from the collar down to the cuffs, the
+back, the tails and the button-holes, all of which were well known to
+him, since they were his own handiwork. Such is the habit of tailors;
+it is the first thing they do on meeting one.
+
+"But I, here, this--Petrovich--a cloak, cloth--here you see,
+everywhere, in different places, it is quite strong--it is a little
+dusty and looks old, but it is new, only here in one place it is a
+little--on the back, and here on one of the shoulders, it is a little
+worn, yes, here on this shoulder it is a little--do you see? That is
+all. And a little work--"
+
+Petrovich took the cloak, spread it out, to begin with, on the table,
+looked at it hard, shook his head, reached out his hand to the
+window-sill for his snuff-box, adorned with the portrait of some
+general, though what general is unknown, for the place where the face
+should have been had been rubbed through by the finger and a square
+bit of paper had been pasted over it. Having taken a pinch of snuff,
+Petrovich held up the cloak, and inspected it against the light, and
+again shook his head. Then he turned it, lining upwards, and shook his
+head once more. After which he again lifted the general-adorned lid
+with its bit of pasted paper, and having stuffed his nose with snuff,
+dosed and put away the snuff-box, and said finally, "No, it is
+impossible to mend it. It is a wretched garment!"
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich's heart sank at these words.
+
+"Why is it impossible, Petrovich?" he said, almost in the pleading
+voice of a child. "All that ails it is, that it is worn on the
+shoulders. You must have some pieces--"
+
+"Yes, patches could be found, patches are easily found," said
+Petrovich, "but there's nothing to sew them to. The thing is
+completely rotten. If you put a needle to it--see, it will give way."
+
+"Let it give way, and you can put on another patch at once."
+
+"But there is nothing to put the patches on to. There's no use in
+strengthening it. It is too far gone. It's lucky that it's cloth, for,
+if the wind were to blow, it would fly away."
+
+"Well, strengthen it again. How this, in fact--"
+
+"No," said Petrovich decisively, "there is nothing to be done with it.
+It's a thoroughly bad job. You'd better, when the cold winter weather
+comes on, make yourself some gaiters out of it, because stockings are
+not warm. The Germans invented them in order to make more money."
+Petrovich loved on all occasions to have a fling at the Germans. "But
+it is plain you must have a new cloak."
+
+At the word "new" all grew dark before Akaky Akakiyevich's eyes, and
+everything in the room began to whirl round. The only thing he saw
+clearly was the general with the paper face on the lid of Petrovich's
+snuff-box. "A new one?" said he, as if still in a dream. "Why, I have
+no money for that."
+
+"Yes, a new one," said Petrovich, with barbarous composure.
+
+"Well, if it came to a new one, how--it--"
+
+"You mean how much would it cost?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, you would have to lay out a hundred and fifty or more," said
+Petrovich, and pursed up his lips significantly. He liked to produce
+powerful effects, liked to stun utterly and suddenly, and then to
+glance sideways to see what face the stunned person would put on the
+matter.
+
+"A hundred and fifty rubles for a cloak!" shrieked poor Akaky
+Akakiyevich, perhaps for the first time in his life, for his voice had
+always been distinguished for softness.
+
+"Yes, sir," said Petrovich, "for any kind of cloak. If you have a
+marten fur on the collar, or a silk-lined hood, it will mount up to
+two hundred."
+
+"Petrovich, please," said Akaky Akakiyevich in a beseeching tone, not
+hearing, and not trying to hear, Petrovich's words, and disregarding
+all his "effects," "some repairs, in order that it may wear yet a
+little longer."
+
+"No, it would only be a waste of time and money," said Petrovich. And
+Akaky Akakiyevich went away after these words, utterly discouraged.
+But Petrovich stood for some time after his departure, with
+significantly compressed lips, and without betaking himself to his
+work, satisfied that he would not be dropped, and an artistic tailor
+employed.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich went out into the street as if in a dream. "Such an
+affair!" he said to himself. "I did not think it had come to--" and
+then after a pause, he added, "Well, so it is! see what it has come to
+at last! and I never imagined that it was so!" Then followed a long
+silence, after which he exclaimed, "Well, so it is! see what
+already--nothing unexpected that--it would be nothing--what a strange
+circumstance!" So saying, instead of going home, he went in exactly
+the opposite direction without suspecting it. On the way, a
+chimney-sweep bumped up against him, and blackened his shoulder, and a
+whole hatful of rubbish landed on him from the top of a house which
+was building. He did not notice it, and only when he ran against a
+watchman, who, having planted his halberd beside him, was shaking some
+snuff from his box into his horny hand, did he recover himself a
+little, and that because the watchman said, "Why are you poking
+yourself into a man's very face? Haven't you the pavement?" This
+caused him to look about him, and turn towards home.
+
+There only, he finally began to collect his thoughts, and to survey
+his position in its clear and actual light, and to argue with himself,
+sensibly and frankly, as with a reasonable friend, with whom one can
+discuss private and personal matters. "No," said Akaky Akakiyevich,
+"it is impossible to reason with Petrovich now. He is that--evidently,
+his wife has been beating him. I'd better go to him on Sunday morning.
+After Saturday night he will be a little cross-eyed and sleepy, for he
+will want to get drunk, and his wife won't give him any money, and at
+such a time, a ten-kopek piece in his hand will--he will become more
+fit to reason with, and then the cloak and that--" Thus argued Akaky
+Akakiyevich with himself regained his courage, and waited until the
+first Sunday, when, seeing from afar that Petrovich's wife had left
+the house, he went straight to him.
+
+Petrovich's eye was indeed very much askew after Saturday. His head
+drooped, and he was very sleepy; but for all that, as soon as he knew
+what it was a question of, it seemed as though Satan jogged his
+memory. "Impossible," said he. "Please to order a new one." Thereupon
+Akaky Akakiyevich handed over the ten-kopek piece. "Thank you, sir. I
+will drink your good health," said Petrovich. "But as for the cloak,
+don't trouble yourself about it; it is good for nothing. I will make
+you a capital new one, so let us settle about it now."
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich was still for mending it, but Petrovich would not
+hear of it, and said, "I shall certainly have to make you a new one,
+and you may depend upon it that I shall do my best. It may even be, as
+the fashion goes, that the collar can be fastened by silver hooks
+under a flap."
+
+Then Akaky Akakiyevich saw that it was impossible to get along without
+a new cloak, and his spirit sank utterly. How, in fact, was it to be
+done? Where was the money to come from? He must have some new
+trousers, and pay a debt of long standing to the shoemaker for putting
+new tops to his old boots, and he must order three shirts from the
+seamstress, and a couple of pieces of linen. In short, all his money
+must be spent. And even if the director should be so kind as to order
+him to receive forty-five or even fifty rubles instead of forty, it
+would be a mere nothing, a mere drop in the ocean towards the funds
+necessary for a cloak, although he knew that Petrovich was often
+wrong-headed enough to blurt out some outrageous price, so that even
+his own wife could not refrain from exclaiming, "Have you lost your
+senses, you fool?" At one time he would not work at any price, and now
+it was quite likely that he had named a higher sum than the cloak
+would cost.
+
+But although he knew that Petrovich would undertake to make a cloak
+for eighty rubles, still, where was he to get the eighty rubles from?
+He might possibly manage half. Yes, half might be procured, but where
+was the other half to come from? But the reader must first be told
+where the first half came from.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich had a habit of putting, for every ruble he spent, a
+groschen into a small box, fastened with lock and key, and with a slit
+in the top for the reception of money. At the end of every half-year
+he counted over the heap of coppers, and changed it for silver. This
+he had done for a long time, and in the course of years, the sum had
+mounted up to over forty rubles. Thus he had one half on hand. But
+where was he to find the other half? Where was he to get another forty
+rubles from? Akaky Akakiyevich thought and thought, and decided that
+it would be necessary to curtail his ordinary expenses, for the space
+of one year at least, to dispense with tea in the evening, to burn no
+candles, and, if there was anything which he must do, to go into his
+landlady's room, and work by her light. When he went into the street,
+he must walk as lightly as he could, and as cautiously, upon the
+stones, almost upon tiptoe, in order not to wear his heels down in too
+short a time. He must give the laundress as little to wash as
+possible; and, in order not to wear out his clothes, he must take them
+off as soon as he got home, and wear only his cotton dressing-gown,
+which had been long and carefully saved.
+
+To tell the truth, it was a little hard for him at first to accustom
+himself to these deprivations. But he got used to them at length,
+after a fashion, and all went smoothly. He even got used to being
+hungry in the evening, but he made up for it by treating himself, so
+to say, in spirit, by bearing ever in mind the idea of his future
+cloak. From that time forth, his existence seemed to become, in some
+way, fuller, as if he were married, or as if some other man lived in
+him, as if, in fact, he were not alone, and some pleasant friend had
+consented to travel along life's path with him, the friend being no
+other than the cloak, with thick wadding and a strong lining incapable
+of wearing out. He became more lively, and even his character grew
+firmer, like that of a man who has made up his mind, and set himself a
+goal. From his face and gait, doubt and indecision, all hesitating and
+wavering disappeared of themselves. Fire gleamed in his eyes, and
+occasionally the boldest and most daring ideas flitted through his
+mind. Why not, for instance, have marten fur on the collar? The
+thought of this almost made him absent-minded. Once, in copying a
+letter, he nearly made a mistake, so that he exclaimed almost aloud,
+"Ugh!" and crossed himself. Once, in the course of every month, he had
+a conference with Petrovich on the subject of the cloak, where it
+would be better to buy the cloth, and the colour, and the price. He
+always returned home satisfied, though troubled, reflecting that the
+time would come at last when it could all be bought, and then the
+cloak made.
+
+The affair progressed more briskly than he had expected. For beyond
+all his hopes, the director awarded neither forty nor forty-five
+rubles for Akaky Akakiyevich's share, but sixty. Whether he suspected
+that Akaky Akakiyevich needed a cloak, or whether it was merely
+chance, at all events, twenty extra rubles were by this means
+provided. This circumstance hastened matters. Two or three months more
+of hunger and Akaky Akakiyevich had accumulated about eighty rubles.
+His heart, generally so quiet, began to throb. On the first possible
+day, he went shopping in company with Petrovich. They bought some very
+good cloth, and at a reasonable rate too, for they had been
+considering the matter for six months, and rarely let a month pass
+without their visiting the shops to enquire prices. Petrovich himself
+said that no better cloth could be had. For lining, they selected a
+cotton stuff, but so firm and thick, that Petrovich declared it to be
+better than silk, and even prettier and more glossy. They did not buy
+the marten fur, because it was, in fact, dear, but in its stead, they
+picked out the very best of cat-skin which could be found in the shop,
+and which might, indeed, be taken for marten at a distance.
+
+Petrovich worked at the cloak two whole weeks, for there was a great
+deal of quilting; otherwise it would have been finished sooner. He
+charged twelve rubles for the job, it could not possibly have been
+done for less. It was all sewed with silk, in small, double seams, and
+Petrovich went over each seam afterwards with his own teeth, stamping
+in various patterns.
+
+It was--it is difficult to say precisely on what day, but probably the
+most glorious one in Akaky Akakiyevich's life, when Petrovich at
+length brought home the cloak. He brought it in the morning, before
+the hour when it was necessary to start for the department. Never did
+a cloak arrive so exactly in the nick of time, for the severe cold had
+set in, and it seemed to threaten to increase. Petrovich brought the
+cloak himself as befits a good tailor. On his countenance was a
+significant expression, such as Akaky Akakiyevich had never beheld
+there. He seemed fully sensible that he had done no small deed, and
+crossed a gulf separating tailors who put in linings, and execute
+repairs, from those who make new things. He took the cloak out of the
+pocket-handkerchief in which he had brought it. The handkerchief was
+fresh from the laundress, and he put it in his pocket for use. Taking
+out the cloak, he gazed proudly at it, held it up with both hands, and
+flung it skilfully over the shoulders of Akaky Akakiyevich. Then he
+pulled it and fitted it down behind with his hand, and he draped it
+around Akaky Akakiyevich without buttoning it. Akaky Akakiyevich, like
+an experienced man, wished to try the sleeves. Petrovich helped him on
+with them, and it turned out that the sleeves were satisfactory also.
+In short, the cloak appeared to be perfect, and most seasonable.
+Petrovich did not neglect to observe that it was only because he lived
+in a narrow street, and had no signboard, and had known Akaky
+Akakiyevich so long, that he had made it so cheaply; but that if he
+had been in business on the Nevsky Prospect, he would have charged
+seventy-five rubles for the making alone. Akaky Akakiyevich did not
+care to argue this point with Petrovich. He paid him, thanked him, and
+set out at once in his new cloak for the department. Petrovich
+followed him, and pausing in the street, gazed long at the cloak in
+the distance, after which he went to one side expressly to run through
+a crooked alley, and emerge again into the street beyond to gaze once
+more upon the cloak from another point, namely, directly in front.
+
+Meantime Akaky Akakiyevich went on in holiday mood. He was conscious
+every second of the time that he had a new cloak on his shoulders, and
+several times he laughed with internal satisfaction. In fact, there
+were two advantages, one was its warmth, the other its beauty. He saw
+nothing of the road, but suddenly found himself at the department. He
+took off his cloak in the ante-room, looked it over carefully, and
+confided it to the special care of the attendant. It is impossible to
+say precisely how it was that every one in the department knew at once
+that Akaky Akakiyevich had a new cloak, and that the "cape" no longer
+existed. All rushed at the same moment into the ante-room to inspect
+it. They congratulated him, and said pleasant things to him, so that
+he began at first to smile, and then to grow ashamed. When all
+surrounded him, and said that the new cloak must be "christened," and
+that he must at least give them all a party, Akaky Akakiyevich lost
+his head completely, and did not know where he stood, what to answer,
+or how to get out of it. He stood blushing all over for several
+minutes, trying to assure them with great simplicity that it was not a
+new cloak, that it was in fact the old "cape."
+
+At length one of the officials, assistant to the head clerk, in order
+to show that he was not at all proud, and on good terms with his
+inferiors, said:
+
+"So be it, only I will give the party instead of Akaky Akakiyevich; I
+invite you all to tea with me to-night. It just happens to be my
+name-day too."
+
+The officials naturally at once offered the assistant clerk their
+congratulations, and accepted the invitation with pleasure. Akaky
+Akakiyevich would have declined; but all declared that it was
+discourteous, that it was simply a sin and a shame, and that he could
+not possibly refuse. Besides, the notion became pleasant to him when
+he recollected that he should thereby have a chance of wearing his new
+cloak in the evening also.
+
+That whole day was truly a most triumphant festival for Akaky
+Akakiyevich. He returned home in the most happy frame of mind, took
+off his cloak, and hung it carefully on the wall, admiring afresh the
+cloth and the lining. Then he brought out his old, worn-out cloak, for
+comparison. He looked at it, and laughed, so vast was the difference.
+And long after dinner he laughed again when the condition of the
+"cape" recurred to his mind. He dined cheerfully, and after dinner
+wrote nothing, but took his ease for a while on the bed, until it got
+dark. Then he dressed himself leisurely, put on his cloak, and stepped
+out into the street.
+
+Where the host lived, unfortunately we cannot say. Our memory begins
+to fail us badly. The houses and streets in St. Petersburg have become
+so mixed up in our head that it is very difficult to get anything out
+of it again in proper form. This much is certain, that the official
+lived in the best part of the city; and therefore it must have been
+anything but near to Akaky Akakiyevich's residence. Akaky Akakiyevich
+was first obliged to traverse a kind of wilderness of deserted,
+dimly-lighted streets. But in proportion as he approached the
+official's quarter of the city, the streets became more lively, more
+populous, and more brilliantly illuminated. Pedestrians began to
+appear; handsomely dressed ladies were more frequently encountered;
+the men had otter skin collars to their coats; shabby sleigh-men with
+their wooden, railed sledges stuck over with brass-headed nails,
+became rarer; whilst on the other hand, more and more drivers in red
+velvet caps, lacquered sledges and bear-skin coats began to appear,
+and carriages with rich hammer-cloths flew swiftly through the
+streets, their wheels scrunching the snow.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich gazed upon all this as upon a novel sight. He had
+not been in the streets during the evening for years. He halted out of
+curiosity before a shop-window, to look at a picture representing a
+handsome woman, who had thrown off her shoe, thereby baring her whole
+foot in a very pretty way; whilst behind her the head of a man with
+whiskers and a handsome moustache peeped through the doorway of
+another room. Akaky Akakiyevich shook his head, and laughed, and then
+went on his way. Why did he laugh? Either because he had met with a
+thing utterly unknown, but for which every one cherishes,
+nevertheless, some sort of feeling, or else he thought, like many
+officials, "Well, those French! What is to be said? If they do go in
+for anything of that sort, why--" But possibly he did not think at
+all.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich at length reached the house in which the head
+clerk's assistant lodged. He lived in fine style. The staircase was
+lit by a lamp, his apartment being on the second floor. On entering
+the vestibule, Akaky Akakiyevich beheld a whole row of goloshes on the
+floor. Among them, in the centre of the room, stood a samovar, humming
+and emitting clouds of steam. On the walls hung all sorts of coats and
+cloaks, among which there were even some with beaver collars, or
+velvet facings. Beyond, the buzz of conversation was audible, and
+became clear and loud, when the servant came out with a trayful of
+empty glasses, cream-jugs and sugar-bowls. It was evident that the
+officials had arrived long before, and had already finished their
+first glass of tea.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich, having hung up his own cloak, entered the inner
+room. Before him all at once appeared lights, officials, pipes, and
+card-tables, and he was bewildered by a sound of rapid conversation
+rising from all the tables, and the noise of moving chairs. He halted
+very awkwardly in the middle of the room, wondering what he ought to
+do. But they had seen him. They received him with a shout, and all
+thronged at once into the ante-room, and there took another look at
+his cloak. Akaky Akakiyevich, although somewhat confused, was
+frank-hearted, and could not refrain from rejoicing when he saw how
+they praised his cloak. Then, of course, they all dropped him and his
+cloak, and returned, as was proper, to the tables set out for whist.
+
+All this, the noise, the talk, and the throng of people, was rather
+overwhelming to Akaky Akakiyevich. He simply did not know where he
+stood, or where to put his hands, his feet, and his whole body.
+Finally he sat down by the players, looked at the cards, gazed at the
+face of one and another, and after a while began to gape, and to feel
+that it was wearisome, the more so, as the hour was already long past
+when he usually went to bed. He wanted to take leave of the host, but
+they would not let him go, saying that he must not fail to drink a
+glass of champagne, in honour of his new garment. In the course of an
+hour, supper, consisting of vegetable salad, cold veal, pastry,
+confectioner's pies, and champagne, was served. They made Akaky
+Akakiyevich drink two glasses of champagne, after which he felt things
+grow livelier.
+
+Still, he could not forget that it was twelve o'clock, and that he
+should have been at home long ago. In order that the host might not
+think of some excuse for detaining him, he stole out of the room
+quickly, sought out, in the ante-room, his cloak, which, to his
+sorrow, he found lying on the floor, brushed it, picked off every
+speck upon it, put it on his shoulders, and descended the stairs to
+the street.
+
+In the street all was still bright. Some petty shops, those permanent
+clubs of servants and all sorts of folks, were open. Others were shut,
+but, nevertheless, showed a streak of light the whole length of the
+door-crack, indicating that they were not yet free of company, and
+that probably some domestics, male and female, were finishing their
+stories and conversations, whilst leaving their masters in complete
+ignorance as to their whereabouts. Akaky Akakiyevich went on in a
+happy frame of mind. He even started to run, without knowing why,
+after some lady, who flew past like a flash of lightning. But he
+stopped short, and went on very quietly as before, wondering why he
+had quickened his pace. Soon there spread before him these deserted
+streets which are not cheerful in the daytime, to say nothing of the
+evening. Now they were even more dim and lonely. The lanterns began to
+grow rarer, oil, evidently, had been less liberally supplied. Then
+came wooden houses and fences. Not a soul anywhere; only the snow
+sparkled in the streets, and mournfully veiled the low-roofed cabins
+with their closed shutters. He approached the spot where the street
+crossed a vast square with houses barely visible on its farther side,
+a square which seemed a fearful desert.
+
+Afar, a tiny spark glimmered from some watchman's-box, which seemed to
+stand on the edge of the world. Akaky Akakiyevich's cheerfulness
+diminished at this point in a marked degree. He entered the square,
+not without an involuntary sensation of fear, as though his heart
+warned him of some evil. He glanced back, and on both sides it was
+like a sea about him. "No, it is better not to look," he thought, and
+went on, closing his eyes. When he opened them, to see whether he was
+near the end of the square, he suddenly beheld, standing just before
+his very nose, some bearded individuals of precisely what sort, he
+could not make out. All grew dark before his eyes, and his heart
+throbbed.
+
+"Of course, the cloak is mine!" said one of them in a loud voice,
+seizing hold of his collar. Akaky Akakiyevich was about to shout
+"Help!" when the second man thrust a fist, about the size of an
+official's head, at his very mouth, muttering, "Just you dare to
+scream!"
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich felt them strip off his cloak, and give him a kick.
+He fell headlong upon the snow, and felt no more.
+
+In a few minutes he recovered consciousness, and rose to his feet, but
+no one was there. He felt that it was cold in the square, and that his
+cloak was gone. He began to shout, but his voice did not appear to
+reach the outskirts of the square. In despair, but without ceasing to
+shout, he started at a run across the square, straight towards the
+watch-box, beside which stood the watchman, leaning on his halberd,
+and apparently curious to know what kind of a customer was running
+towards him shouting. Akaky Akakiyevich ran up to him, and began in a
+sobbing voice to shout that he was asleep, and attended to nothing,
+and did not see when a man was robbed. The watchman replied that he
+had seen two men stop him in the middle of the square, but supposed
+that they were friends of his, and that, instead of scolding vainly,
+he had better go to the police on the morrow, so that they might make
+a search for whoever had stolen the cloak.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich ran home and arrived in a state of complete
+disorder, his hair which grew very thinly upon his temples and the
+back of his head all tousled, his body, arms and legs, covered with
+snow. The old woman, who was mistress of his lodgings, on hearing a
+terrible knocking, sprang hastily from her bed, and, with only one
+shoe on, ran to open the door, pressing the sleeve of her chemise to
+her bosom out of modesty. But when she had opened it, she fell back on
+beholding Akaky Akakiyevich in such a condition. When he told her
+about the affair, she clasped her hands, and said that he must go
+straight to the district chief of police, for his subordinate would
+turn up his nose, promise well, and drop the matter there. The very
+best thing to do, therefore, would be to go to the district chief,
+whom she knew, because Finnish Anna, her former cook, was now nurse at
+his house. She often saw him passing the house, and he was at church
+every Sunday, praying, but at the same time gazing cheerfully at
+everybody; so that he must be a good man, judging from all
+appearances. Having listened to this opinion, Akaky Akakiyevich betook
+himself sadly to his room. And how he spent the night there, any one
+who can put himself in another's place may readily imagine.
+
+Early in the morning, he presented himself at the district chief's,
+but was told the official was asleep. He went again at ten and was
+again informed that he was asleep. At eleven, and they said, "The
+superintendent is not at home." At dinner time, and the clerks in the
+ante-room would not admit him on any terms, and insisted upon knowing
+his business. So that at last, for once in his life, Akaky Akakiyevich
+felt an inclination to show some spirit, and said curtly that he must
+see the chief in person, that they ought not to presume to refuse him
+entrance, that he came from the department of justice, and that when
+he complained of them, they would see.
+
+The clerks dared make no reply to this, and one of them went to call
+the chief, who listened to the strange story of the theft of the coat.
+Instead of directing his attention to the principal points of the
+matter, he began to question Akaky Akakiyevich. Why was he going home
+so late? Was he in the habit of doing so, or had he been to some
+disorderly house? So that Akaky Akakiyevich got thoroughly confused,
+and left him, without knowing whether the affair of his cloak was in
+proper train or not.
+
+All that day, for the first time in his life, he never went near the
+department. The next day he made his appearance, very pale, and in his
+old cape, which had become even more shabby. The news of the robbery
+of the cloak touched many, although there were some officials present
+who never lost an opportunity, even such a one as the present, of
+ridiculing Akaky Akakiyevich. They decided to make a collection for
+him on the spot, but the officials had already spent a great deal in
+subscribing for the director's portrait, and for some book, at the
+suggestion of the head of that division, who was a friend of the
+author; and so the sum was trifling.
+
+One of them, moved by pity, resolved to help Akaky Akakiyevich with
+some good advice, at least, and told him that he ought not to go to
+the police, for although it might happen that a police-officer,
+wishing to win the approval of his superiors, might hunt up the cloak
+by some means, still, his cloak would remain in the possession of the
+police if he did not offer legal proof that it belonged to him. The
+best thing for him, therefore, would be to apply to a certain
+prominent personage; since this prominent personage, by entering into
+relation with the proper persons, could greatly expedite the matter.
+
+As there was nothing else to be done, Akaky Akakiyevich decided to go
+to the prominent personage. What was the exact official position of
+the prominent personage, remains unknown to this day. The reader must
+know that the prominent personage had but recently become a prominent
+personage, having up to that time been only an insignificant person.
+Moreover, his present position was not considered prominent in
+comparison with others still more so. But there is always a circle of
+people to whom what is insignificant in the eyes of others, is
+important enough. Moreover, he strove to increase his importance by
+sundry devices. For instance, he managed to have the inferior
+officials meet him on the staircase when he entered upon his service;
+no one was to presume to come directly to him, but the strictest
+etiquette must be observed; the collegiate recorder must make a report
+to the government secretary, the government secretary to the titular
+councillor, or whatever other man was proper, and all business must
+come before him in this manner. In Holy Russia, all is thus
+contaminated with the love of imitation; every man imitates and copies
+his superior. They even say that a certain titular councillor, when
+promoted to the head of some small separate office, immediately
+partitioned off a private room for himself, called it the audience
+chamber, and posted at the door a lackey with red collar and braid,
+who grasped the handle of the door, and opened to all comers, though
+the audience chamber would hardly hold an ordinary writing table.
+
+The manners and customs of the prominent personage were grand and
+imposing, but rather exaggerated. The main foundation of his system
+was strictness. "Strictness, strictness, and always strictness!" he
+generally said; and at the last word he looked significantly into the
+face of the person to whom he spoke. But there was no necessity for
+this, for the halfscore of subordinates, who formed the entire force
+of the office, were properly afraid. On catching sight of him afar
+off, they left their work, and waited, drawn up in line, until he had
+passed through the room. His ordinary converse with his inferiors
+smacked of sternness, and consisted chiefly of three phrases: "How
+dare you?" "Do you know whom you are speaking to?" "Do you realise who
+is standing before you?"
+
+Otherwise he was a very kind-hearted man, good to his comrades, and
+ready to oblige. But the rank of general threw him completely off his
+balance. On receiving any one of that rank, he became confused, lost
+his way, as it were, and never knew what to do. If he chanced to be
+amongst his equals, he was still a very nice kind of man, a very good
+fellow in many respects, and not stupid, but the very moment that he
+found himself in the society of people but one rank lower than
+himself, he became silent. And his situation aroused sympathy, the
+more so, as he felt himself that he might have been making an
+incomparably better use of his time. In his eyes, there was sometimes
+visible a desire to join some interesting conversation or group, but
+he was kept back by the thought, "Would it not be a very great
+condescension on his part? Would it not be familiar? And would he not
+thereby lose his importance?" And in consequence of such reflections,
+he always remained in the same dumb state, uttering from time to time
+a few monosyllabic sounds, and thereby earning the name of the most
+wearisome of men.
+
+To this prominent personage Akaky Akakiyevich presented himself, and
+this at the most unfavourable time for himself, though opportune for
+the prominent personage. The prominent personage was in his cabinet,
+conversing very gaily with an old acquaintance and companion of his
+childhood, whom he had not seen for several years, and who had just
+arrived, when it was announced to him that a person named Bashmachkin
+had come. He asked abruptly, "Who is he?"--"Some official," he was
+informed. "Ah, he can wait! This is no time for him to call," said the
+important man.
+
+It must be remarked here that the important man lied outrageously. He
+had said all he had to say to his friend long before, and the
+conversation had been interspersed for some time with very long
+pauses, during which they merely slapped each other on the leg, and
+said, "You think so, Ivan Abramovich!" "Just so, Stepan Varlamovich!"
+Nevertheless, he ordered that the official should be kept waiting, in
+order to show his friend, a man who had not been in the service for a
+long time, but had lived at home in the country, how long officials
+had to wait in his ante-room.
+
+At length, having talked himself completely out, and more than that,
+having had his fill of pauses, and smoked a cigar in a very
+comfortable arm-chair with reclining back, he suddenly seemed to
+recollect, and said to the secretary, who stood by the door with
+papers of reports, "So it seems that there is an official waiting to
+see me. Tell him that he may come in." On perceiving Akaky
+Akakiyevich's modest mien and his worn uniform, he turned abruptly to
+him, and said, "What do you want?" in a curt hard voice, which he had
+practised in his room in private, and before the looking-glass, for a
+whole week before being raised to his present rank.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich, who was already imbued with a due amount of fear,
+became somewhat confused, and as well as his tongue would permit,
+explained, with a rather more frequent addition than usual of the word
+"that" that his cloak was quite new, and had been stolen in the most
+inhuman manner; that he had applied to him, in order that he might, in
+some way, by his intermediation--that he might enter into
+correspondence with the chief of police, and find the cloak.
+
+For some inexplicable reason, this conduct seemed familiar to the
+prominent personage.
+
+"What, my dear sir!" he said abruptly, "are you not acquainted with
+etiquette? To whom have you come? Don't you know how such matters are
+managed? You should first have presented a petition to the office. It
+would have gone to the head of the department, then to the chief of
+the division, then it would have been handed over to the secretary,
+and the secretary would have given it to me."
+
+"But, your excellency," said Akaky Akakiyevich, trying to collect his
+small handful of wits, and conscious at the same time that he was
+perspiring terribly, "I, your excellency, presumed to trouble you
+because secretaries--are an untrustworthy race."
+
+"What, what, what!" said the important personage. "Where did you get
+such courage? Where did you get such ideas? What impudence towards
+their chiefs and superiors has spread among the young generation!" The
+prominent personage apparently had not observed that Akaky Akakiyevich
+was already in the neighbourhood of fifty. If he could be called a
+young man, it must have been in comparison with some one who was
+seventy. "Do you know to whom you are speaking? Do you realise who is
+standing before you? Do you realise it? Do you realise it, I ask you!"
+Then he stamped his foot, and raised his voice to such a pitch that it
+would have frightened even a different man from Akaky Akakiyevich.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich's senses failed him. He staggered, trembled in every
+limb, and, if the porters had not run in to support him, would have
+fallen to the floor. They carried him out insensible. But the
+prominent personage, gratified that the effect should have surpassed
+his expectations, and quite intoxicated with the thought that his word
+could even deprive a man of his senses, glanced sideways at his friend
+in order to see how he looked upon this, and perceived, not without
+satisfaction, that his friend was in a most uneasy frame of mind, and
+even beginning on his part, to feel a trifle frightened.
+
+Akaky Akakiyevich could not remember how he descended the stairs, and
+got into the street. He felt neither his hands nor feet. Never in his
+life had he been so rated by any high official, let alone a strange
+one. He went staggering on through the snow-storm, which was blowing
+in the streets, with his mouth wide open. The wind, in St. Petersburg
+fashion, darted upon him from all quarters, and down every
+cross-street. In a twinkling it had blown a quinsy into his throat,
+and he reached home unable to utter a word. His throat was swollen,
+and he lay down on his bed. So powerful is sometimes a good scolding!
+
+The next day a violent fever developed. Thanks to the generous
+assistance of the St. Petersburg climate, the malady progressed more
+rapidly than could have been expected, and when the doctor arrived, he
+found, on feeling the sick man's pulse, that there was nothing to be
+done, except to prescribe a poultice, so that the patient might not be
+left entirely without the beneficent aid of medicine. But at the same
+time, he predicted his end in thirty-six hours. After this he turned
+to the landlady, and said, "And as for you, don't waste your time on
+him. Order his pine coffin now, for an oak one will be too expensive
+for him."
+
+Did Akaky Akakiyevich hear these fatal words? And if he heard them,
+did they produce any overwhelming effect upon him? Did he lament the
+bitterness of his life?--We know not, for he continued in a delirious
+condition. Visions incessantly appeared to him, each stranger than the
+other. Now he saw Petrovich, and ordered him to make a cloak, with
+some traps for robbers, who seemed to him to be always under the bed;
+and he cried every moment to the landlady to pull one of them from
+under his coverlet. Then he inquired why his old mantle hung before
+him when he had a new cloak. Next he fancied that he was standing
+before the prominent person, listening to a thorough setting-down and
+saying, "Forgive me, your excellency!" but at last he began to curse,
+uttering the most horrible words, so that his aged landlady crossed
+herself, never in her life having heard anything of the kind from him,
+and more so as these words followed directly after the words "your
+excellency." Later on he talked utter nonsense, of which nothing could
+be made, all that was evident being that these incoherent words and
+thoughts hovered ever about one thing, his cloak.
+
+At length poor Akaky Akakiyevich breathed his last. They sealed up
+neither his room nor his effects, because, in the first place, there
+were no heirs, and, in the second, there was very little to inherit
+beyond a bundle of goose-quills, a quire of white official paper,
+three pairs of socks, two or three buttons which had burst off his
+trousers, and the mantle already known to the reader. To whom all this
+fell, God knows. I confess that the person who told me this tale took
+no interest in the matter. They carried Akaky Akakiyevich out, and
+buried him.
+
+And St. Petersburg was left without Akaky Akakiyevich, as though he
+had never lived there. A being disappeared, who was protected by none,
+dear to none, interesting to none, and who never even attracted to
+himself the attention of those students of human nature who omit no
+opportunity of thrusting a pin through a common fly and examining it
+under the microscope. A being who bore meekly the jibes of the
+department, and went to his grave without having done one unusual
+deed, but to whom, nevertheless, at the close of his life, appeared a
+bright visitant in the form of a cloak, which momentarily cheered his
+poor life, and upon him, thereafter, an intolerable misfortune
+descended, just as it descends upon the heads of the mighty of this
+world!
+
+Several days after his death, the porter was sent from the department
+to his lodgings, with an order for him to present himself there
+immediately, the chief commanding it. But the porter had to return
+unsuccessful, with the answer that he could not come; and to the
+question, "Why?" replied, "Well, because he is dead! he was buried
+four days ago." In this manner did they hear of Akaky Akakiyevich's
+death at the department. And the next day a new official sat in his
+place, with a handwriting by no means so upright, but more inclined
+and slanting.
+
+But who could have imagined that this was not really the end of Akaky
+Akakiyevich, that he was destined to raise a commotion after death, as
+if in compensation for his utterly insignificant life? But so it
+happened, and our poor story unexpectedly gains a fantastic ending.
+
+A rumour suddenly spread through St. Petersburg, that a dead man had
+taken to appearing on the Kalinkin Bridge, and its vicinity, at night
+in the form of an official seeking a stolen cloak, and that, under the
+pretext of its being the stolen cloak, he dragged, without regard to
+rank or calling, every one's cloak from his shoulders, be it cat-skin,
+beaver, fox, bear, sable, in a word, every sort of fur and skin which
+men adopted for their covering. One of the department officials saw
+the dead man with his own eyes, and immediately recognised in him
+Akaky Akakiyevich. This, however, inspired him with such terror, that
+he ran off with all his might, and therefore did not scan the dead man
+closely, but only saw how the latter threatened him from afar with his
+finger. Constant complaints poured in from all quarters, that the
+backs and shoulders, not only of titular but even of court
+councillors, were exposed to the danger of a cold, on account of the
+frequent dragging off of their cloaks.
+
+Arrangements were made by the police to catch the corpse, alive or
+dead, at any cost, and punish him as an example to others, in the most
+severe manner. In this they nearly succeeded, for a watchman, on guard
+in Kirinshkin Lane, caught the corpse by the collar on the very scene
+of his evil deeds, when attempting to pull off the frieze cloak of a
+retired musician. Having seized him by the collar, he summoned, with a
+shout, two of his comrades, whom he enjoined to hold him fast, while
+he himself felt for a moment in his boot, in order to draw out his
+snuff-box, and refresh his frozen nose. But the snuff was of a sort
+which even a corpse could not endure. The watchman having closed his
+right nostril with his finger, had no sooner succeeded in holding half
+a handful up to the left, than the corpse sneezed so violently that he
+completely filled the eyes of all three. While they raised their hands
+to wipe them, the dead man vanished completely, so that they
+positively did not know whether they had actually had him in their
+grip at all. Thereafter the watchmen conceived such a terror of dead
+men that they were afraid even to seize the living, and only screamed
+from a distance. "Hey, there! go your way!" So the dead official began
+to appear even beyond the Kalinkin Bridge, causing no little terror to
+all timid people.
+
+But we have totally neglected that certain prominent personage who may
+really be considered as the cause of the fantastic turn taken by this
+true history. First of all, justice compels us to say, that after the
+departure of poor, annihilated Akaky Akakiyevich, he felt something
+like remorse. Suffering was unpleasant to him, for his heart was
+accessible to many good impulses, in spite of the fact that his rank
+often prevented his showing his true self. As soon as his friend had
+left his cabinet, he began to think about poor Akaky Akakiyevich. And
+from that day forth, poor Akaky Akakiyevich, who could not bear up
+under an official reprimand, recurred to his mind almost every day.
+The thought troubled him to such an extent, that a week later he even
+resolved to send an official to him, to learn whether he really could
+assist him. And when it was reported to him that Akaky Akakiyevich had
+died suddenly of fever, he was startled, hearkened to the reproaches
+of his conscience, and was out of sorts for the whole day.
+
+Wishing to divert his mind in some way and drive away the disagreeable
+impression, he set out that evening for one of his friends' houses,
+where he found quite a large party assembled. What was better, nearly
+every one was of the same rank as himself, so that he need not feel in
+the least constrained. This had a marvellous effect upon his mental
+state. He grew expansive, made himself agreeable in conversation, in
+short, he passed a delightful evening. After supper he drank a couple
+of glasses of champagne--not a bad recipe for cheerfulness, as every
+one knows. The champagne inclined him to various adventures, and he
+determined not to return home, but to go and see a certain well-known
+lady, of German extraction, Karolina Ivanovna, a lady, it appears,
+with whom he was on a very friendly footing.
+
+It must be mentioned that the prominent personage was no longer a
+young man, but a good husband and respected father of a family. Two
+sons, one of whom was already in the service, and a good-looking,
+sixteen-year-old daughter, with a slightly arched but pretty little
+nose, came every morning to kiss his hand and say, "_Bon jour_, papa."
+His wife, a still fresh and good-looking woman, first gave him her
+hand to kiss, and then, reversing the procedure, kissed his. But the
+prominent personage, though perfectly satisfied in his domestic
+relations, considered it stylish to have a friend in another quarter
+of the city. This friend was scarcely prettier or younger than his
+wife; but there are such puzzles in the world, and it is not our place
+to judge them. So the important personage descended the stairs,
+stepped into his sledge, said to the coachman, "To Karolina
+Ivanovna's," and, wrapping himself luxuriously in his warm cloak,
+found himself in that delightful frame of mind than which a Russian
+can conceive nothing better, namely, when you think of nothing
+yourself, yet when the thoughts creep into your mind of their own
+accord, each more agreeable than the other, giving you no trouble
+either to drive them away, or seek them. Fully satisfied, he recalled
+all the gay features of the evening just passed and all the mots which
+had made the little circle laugh. Many of them he repeated in a low
+voice, and found them quite as funny as before; so it is not
+surprising that he should laugh heartily at them. Occasionally,
+however, he was interrupted by gusts of wind, which, coming suddenly,
+God knows whence or why, cut his face, drove masses of snow into it,
+filled out his cloak-collar like a sail, or suddenly blew it over his
+head with supernatural force, and thus caused him constant trouble to
+disentangle himself.
+
+Suddenly the important personage felt some one clutch him firmly by
+the collar. Turning round, he perceived a man of short stature, in an
+old, worn uniform, and recognised, not without terror, Akaky
+Akakiyevich. The official's face was white as snow, and looked just
+like a corpse's. But the horror of the important personage transcended
+all bounds when he saw the dead man's mouth open, and heard it utter
+the following remarks, while it breathed upon him the terrible odour
+of the grave: "Ah, here you are at last! I have you, that--by the
+collar! I need your cloak. You took no trouble about mine, but
+reprimanded me. So now give up your own."
+
+The pallid prominent personage almost died of fright. Brave as he was
+in the office and in the presence of inferiors generally, and
+although, at the sight of his manly form and appearance, every one
+said, "Ugh! how much character he has!" at this crisis, he, like many
+possessed of an heroic exterior, experienced such terror, that, not
+without cause, he began to fear an attack of illness. He flung his
+cloak hastily from his shoulders and shouted to his coachman in an
+unnatural voice, "Home at full speed!" The coachman, hearing the tone
+which is generally employed at critical moments, and even accompanied
+by something much more tangible, drew his head down between his
+shoulders in case of an emergency, flourished his whip, and flew on
+like an arrow. In a little more than six minutes the prominent
+personage was at the entrance of his own house. Pale, thoroughly
+scared, and cloakless, he went home instead of to Karolina Ivanovna's,
+reached his room somehow or other, and passed the night in the direst
+distress; so that the next morning over their tea, his daughter said,
+"You are very pale to-day, papa." But papa remained silent, and said
+not a word to any one of what had happened to him, where he had been,
+or where he had intended to go.
+
+This occurrence made a deep impression upon him. He even began to say,
+"How dare you? Do you realise who is standing before you?" less
+frequently to the under-officials, and, if he did utter the words, it
+was only after first having learned the bearings of the matter. But
+the most noteworthy point was, that from that day forward the
+apparition of the dead official ceased to be seen. Evidently the
+prominent personage's cloak just fitted his shoulders. At all events,
+no more instances of his dragging cloaks from people's shoulders were
+heard of. But many active and solicitous persons could by no means
+reassure themselves, and asserted that the dead official still showed
+himself in distant parts of the city.
+
+In fact, one watchman in Kolomen saw with his own eyes the apparition
+come from behind a house. But the watchman was not a strong man, so he
+was afraid to arrest him, and followed him in the dark, until, at
+length, the apparition looked round, paused, and inquired, "What do
+you want?" at the same time showing such a fist as is never seen on
+living men. The watchman said, "Nothing," and turned back instantly.
+But the apparition was much too tall, wore huge moustaches, and,
+directing its steps apparently towards the Obukhov Bridge, disappeared
+in the darkness of the night.
+
+
+
+
+THE DISTRICT DOCTOR
+
+
+
+BY IVAN S. TURGENEV
+
+
+One day in autumn on my way back from a remote part of the country I
+caught cold and fell ill. Fortunately the fever attacked me in the
+district town at the inn; I sent for the doctor. In half-an-hour the
+district doctor appeared, a thin, dark-haired man of middle height. He
+prescribed me the usual sudorific, ordered a mustard-plaster to be put
+on, very deftly slid a five-ruble note up his sleeve, coughing drily
+and looking away as he did so, and then was getting up to go home, but
+somehow fell into talk and remained. I was exhausted with
+feverishness; I foresaw a sleepless night, and was glad of a little
+chat with a pleasant companion. Tea was served. My doctor began to
+converse freely. He was a sensible fellow, and expressed himself with
+vigour and some humour. Queer things happen in the world: you may live
+a long while with some people, and be on friendly terms with them, and
+never once speak openly with them from your soul; with others you have
+scarcely time to get acquainted, and all at once you are pouring out
+to him--or he to you--all your secrets, as though you were at
+confession. I don't know how I gained the confidence of my new
+friend--anyway, with nothing to lead up to it, he told me a rather
+curious incident; and here I will report his tale for the information
+of the indulgent reader. I will try to tell it in the doctor's own
+words.
+
+"You don't happen to know," he began in a weak and quavering voice
+(the common result of the use of unmixed Berezov snuff); "you don't
+happen to know the judge here, Mylov, Pavel Lukich?... You don't know
+him?... Well, it's all the same." (He cleared his throat and rubbed
+his eyes.) "Well, you see, the thing happened, to tell you exactly
+without mistake, in Lent, at the very time of the thaws. I was sitting
+at his house--our judge's, you know--playing preference. Our judge is
+a good fellow, and fond of playing preference. Suddenly" (the doctor
+made frequent use of this word, suddenly) "they tell me, 'There's a
+servant asking for you.' I say, 'What does he want?' They say, He has
+brought a note--it must be from a patient.' 'Give me the note,' I say.
+So it is from a patient--well and good--you understand--it's our bread
+and butter... But this is how it was: a lady, a widow, writes to me;
+she says, 'My daughter is dying. Come, for God's sake!' she says, 'and
+the horses have been sent for you.'... Well, that's all right. But she
+was twenty miles from the town, and it was midnight out of doors, and
+the roads in such a state, my word! And as she was poor herself, one
+could not expect more than two silver rubles, and even that
+problematic; and perhaps it might only be a matter of a roll of linen
+and a sack of oatmeal in _payment_. However, duty, you know, before
+everything: a fellow-creature may be dying. I hand over my cards at
+once to Kalliopin, the member of the provincial commission, and return
+home. I look; a wretched little trap was standing at the steps, with
+peasant's horses, fat--too fat--and their coat as shaggy as felt; and
+the coachman sitting with his cap off out of respect. Well, I think to
+myself, 'It's clear, my friend, these patients aren't rolling in
+riches.'... You smile; but I tell you, a poor man like me has to take
+everything into consideration... If the coachman sits like a prince,
+and doesn't touch his cap, and even sneers at you behind his beard,
+and flicks his whip--then you may bet on six rubles. But this case, I
+saw, had a very different air. However, I think there's no help for
+it; duty before everything. I snatch up the most necessary drugs, and
+set off. Will you believe it? I only just managed to get there at all.
+The road was infernal: streams, snow, watercourses, and the dyke had
+suddenly burst there--that was the worst of it! However, I arrived at
+last. It was a little thatched house. There was a light in the
+windows; that meant they expected me. I was met by an old lady, very
+venerable, in a cap. 'Save her!' she says; 'she is dying.' I say,
+'Pray don't distress yourself--Where is the invalid?' 'Come this way.'
+I see a clean little room, a lamp in the corner; on the bed a girl of
+twenty, unconscious. She was in a burning heat, and breathing
+heavily--it was fever. There were two other girls, her sisters, scared
+and in tears. 'Yesterday,' they tell me, 'she was perfectly well and
+had a good appetite; this morning she complained of her head, and this
+evening, suddenly, you see, like this.' I say again: 'Pray don't be
+uneasy.' It's a doctor's duty, you know--and I went up to her and bled
+her, told them to put on a mustard-plaster, and prescribed a mixture.
+Meantime I looked at her; I looked at her, you know--there, by God! I
+had never seen such a face!--she was a beauty, in a word! I felt quite
+shaken with pity. Such lovely features; such eyes!... But, thank God!
+she became easier; she fell into a perspiration, seemed to come to her
+senses, looked round, smiled, and passed her hand over her face... Her
+sisters bent over her. They ask, 'How are you?' 'All right,' she says,
+and turns away. I looked at her; she had fallen asleep. 'Well,' I say,
+'now the patient should be left alone.' So we all went out on tiptoe;
+only a maid remained, in case she was wanted. In the parlour there was
+a samovar standing on the table, and a bottle of rum; in our
+profession one can't get on without it. They gave me tea; asked me to
+stop the night... I consented: where could I go, indeed, at that time
+of night? The old lady kept groaning. 'What is it?' I say; 'she will
+live; don't worry yourself; you had better take a little rest
+yourself; it is about two o'clock.' 'But will you send to wake me if
+anything happens?' 'Yes, yes.' The old lady went away, and the girls
+too went to their own room; they made up a bed for me in the parlour.
+Well, I went to bed--but I could not get to sleep, for a wonder! for
+in reality I was very tired. I could not get my patient out of my
+head. At last I could not put up with it any longer; I got up
+suddenly; I think to myself, 'I will go and see how the patient is
+getting on.' Her bedroom was next to the parlour. Well, I got up, and
+gently opened the door--how my heart beat! I looked in: the servant
+was asleep, her mouth wide open, and even snoring, the wretch! but the
+patient lay with her face towards me and her arms flung wide apart,
+poor girl! I went up to her ... when suddenly she opened her eyes and
+stared at me! 'Who is it? who is it?' I was in confusion. 'Don't be
+alarmed, madam,' I say; 'I am the doctor; I have come to see how you
+feel.' 'You the doctor?' 'Yes, the doctor; your mother sent for me
+from the town; we have bled you, madam; now pray go to sleep, and in a
+day or two, please God! we will set you on your feet again.' 'Ah, yes,
+yes, doctor, don't let me die... please, please.' 'Why do you talk
+like that? God bless you!' She is in a fever again, I think to myself;
+I felt her pulse; yes, she was feverish. She looked at me, and then
+took me by the hand. 'I will tell you why I don't want to die: I will
+tell you... Now we are alone; and only, please don't you ... not to
+any one ... Listen...' I bent down; she moved her lips quite to my
+ear; she touched my cheek with her hair--I confess my head went
+round--and began to whisper... I could make out nothing of it... Ah,
+she was delirious! ... She whispered and whispered, but so quickly,
+and as if it were not in Russian; at last she finished, and shivering
+dropped her head on the pillow, and threatened me with her finger:
+'Remember, doctor, to no one.' I calmed her somehow, gave her
+something to drink, waked the servant, and went away."
+
+At this point the doctor again took snuff with exasperated energy, and
+for a moment seemed stupefied by its effects.
+
+"However," he continued, "the next day, contrary to my expectations,
+the patient was no better. I thought and thought, and suddenly decided
+to remain there, even though my other patients were expecting me...
+And you know one can't afford to disregard that; one's practice
+suffers if one does. But, in the first place, the patient was really
+in danger; and secondly, to tell the truth, I felt strongly drawn to
+her. Besides, I liked the whole family. Though they were really badly
+off, they were singularly, I may say, cultivated people... Their
+father had been a learned man, an author; he died, of course, in
+poverty, but he had managed before he died to give his children an
+excellent education; he left a lot of books too. Either because I
+looked after the invalid very carefully, or for some other reason;
+anyway, I can venture to say all the household loved me as if I were
+one of the family... Meantime the roads were in a worse state than
+ever; all communications, so to say, were cut off completely; even
+medicine could with difficulty be got from the town... The sick girl
+was not getting better... Day after day, and day after day ... but ...
+here..." (The doctor made a brief pause.) "I declare I don't know how
+to tell you."... (He again took snuff, coughed, and swallowed a little
+tea.) "I will tell you without beating about the bush. My patient ...
+how should I say?... Well she had fallen in love with me ... or, no,
+it was not that she was in love ... however ... really, how should one
+say?" (The doctor looked down and grew red.) "No," he went on quickly,
+"in love, indeed! A man should not over-estimate himself. She was an
+educated girl, clever and well-read, and I had even forgotten my
+Latin, one may say, completely. As to appearance" (the doctor looked
+himself over with a smile) "I am nothing to boast of there either. But
+God Almighty did not make me a fool; I don't take black for white; I
+know a thing or two; I could see very clearly, for instance that
+Aleksandra Andreyevna--that was her name--did not feel love for me,
+but had a friendly, so to say, inclination--a respect or something for
+me. Though she herself perhaps mistook this sentiment, anyway this was
+her attitude; you may form your own judgment of it. But," added the
+doctor, who had brought out all these disconnected sentences without
+taking breath, and with obvious embarrassment, "I seem to be wandering
+rather--you won't understand anything like this ... There, with your
+leave, I will relate it all in order."
+
+He drank off a glass of tea, and began in a calmer voice.
+
+"Well, then. My patient kept getting worse and worse. You are not a
+doctor, my good sir; you cannot understand what passes in a poor
+fellow's heart, especially at first, when he begins to suspect that
+the disease is getting the upper hand of him. What becomes of his
+belief in himself? You suddenly grow so timid; it's indescribable. You
+fancy then that you have forgotten everything you knew, and that the
+patient has no faith in you, and that other people begin to notice how
+distracted you are, and tell you the symptoms with reluctance; that
+they are looking at you suspiciously, whispering... Ah! it's horrid!
+There must be a remedy, you think, for this disease, if one could find
+it. Isn't this it? You try--no, that's not it! You don't allow the
+medicine the necessary time to do good... You clutch at one thing,
+then at another. Sometimes you take up a book of medical
+prescriptions--here it is, you think! Sometimes, by Jove, you pick one
+out by chance, thinking to leave it to fate... But meantime a
+fellow-creature's dying, and another doctor would have saved him. 'We
+must have a consultation,' you say; 'I will not take the
+responsibility on myself.' And what a fool you look at such times!
+Well, in time you learn to bear it; it's nothing to you. A man has
+died--but it's not your fault; you treated him by the rules. But
+what's still more torture to you is to see blind faith in you, and to
+feel yourself that you are not able to be of use. Well, it was just
+this blind faith that the whole of Aleksandra Andreyevna's family had
+in me; they had forgotten to think that their daughter was in danger.
+I, too, on my side assure them that it's nothing, but meantime my
+heart sinks into my boots. To add to our troubles, the roads were in
+such a state that the coachman was gone for whole days together to get
+medicine. And I never left the patient's room; I could not tear myself
+away; I tell her amusing stories, you know, and play cards with her. I
+watch by her side at night. The old mother thanks me with tears in her
+eyes; but I think to myself, 'I don't deserve your gratitude.' I
+frankly confess to you--there is no object in concealing it now--I was
+in love with my patient. And Aleksandra Andreyevna had grown fond of
+me; she would not sometimes let any one be in her room but me. She
+began to talk to me, to ask me questions; where I had studied, how I
+lived, who are my people, whom I go to see. I feel that she ought not
+to talk; but to forbid her to--to forbid her resolutely, you know--I
+could not. Sometimes I held my head in my hands, and asked myself,
+"What are you doing, villain?"... And she would take my hand and hold
+it, give me a long, long look, and turn away, sigh, and say, 'How good
+you are!' Her hands were so feverish, her eyes so large and languid...
+'Yes,' she says, 'you are a good, kind man; you are not like our
+neighbours... No, you are not like that... Why did I not know you till
+now!' 'Aleksandra Andreyevna, calm yourself,' I say... 'I feel,
+believe me, I don't know how I have gained ... but there, calm
+yourself... All will be right; you will be well again.' And meanwhile
+I must tell you," continued the doctor, bending forward and raising
+his eyebrows, "that they associated very little with the neighbours,
+because the smaller people were not on their level, and pride hindered
+them from being friendly with the rich. I tell you, they were an
+exceptionally cultivated family; so you know it was gratifying for me.
+She would only take her medicine from my hands ... she would lift
+herself up, poor girl, with my aid, take it, and gaze at me... My
+heart felt as if it were bursting. And meanwhile she was growing worse
+and worse, worse and worse, all the time; she will die, I think to
+myself; she must die. Believe me, I would sooner have gone to the
+grave myself; and here were her mother and sisters watching me,
+looking into my eyes ... and their faith in me was wearing away.
+'Well? how is she?' 'Oh, all right, all right!' All right, indeed! My
+mind was failing me. Well, I was sitting one night alone again by my
+patient. The maid was sitting there too, and snoring away in full
+swing; I can't find fault with the poor girl, though; she was worn out
+too. Aleksandra Andreyevna had felt very unwell all the evening; she
+was very feverish. Until midnight she kept tossing about; at last she
+seemed to fall asleep; at least, she lay still without stirring. The
+lamp was burning in the corner before the holy image. I sat there, you
+know, with my head bent; I even dozed a little. Suddenly it seemed as
+though some one touched me in the side; I turned round... Good God!
+Aleksandra Andreyevna was gazing with intent eyes at me ... her lips
+parted, her cheeks seemed burning. 'What is it?' 'Doctor, shall I
+die?' 'Merciful Heavens!' 'No, doctor, no; please don't tell me I
+shall live ... don't say so... If you knew... Listen! for God's sake
+don't conceal my real position,' and her breath came so fast. 'If I
+can know for certain that I must die ... then I will tell you all--
+all!' 'Aleksandra Andreyevna, I beg!' 'Listen; I have not been asleep
+at all ... I have been looking at you a long while... For God's
+sake!... I believe in you; you are a good man, an honest man; I
+entreat you by all that is sacred in the world--tell me the truth! If
+you knew how important it is for me... Doctor, for God's sake tell
+me... Am I in danger?' 'What can I tell you, Aleksandra Andreyevna,
+pray?' 'For God's sake, I beseech you!' 'I can't disguise from you,' I
+say, 'Aleksandra Andreyevna; you are certainly in danger; but God is
+merciful.' 'I shall die, I shall die.' And it seemed as though she
+were pleased; her face grew so bright; I was alarmed. 'Don't be
+afraid, don't be afraid! I am not frightened of death at all.' She
+suddenly sat up and leaned on her elbow. 'Now ... yes, now I can tell
+you that I thank you with my whole heart ... that you are kind and
+good--that I love you!' I stare at her, like one possessed; it was
+terrible for me, you know. 'Do you hear, I love you!' 'Aleksandra
+Andreyevna, how have I deserved--' 'No, no, you don't--you don't
+understand me.'... And suddenly she stretched out her arms, and taking
+my head in her hands, she kissed it... Believe me, I almost screamed
+aloud... I threw myself on my knees, and buried my head in the pillow.
+She did not speak; her fingers trembled in my hair; I listen; she is
+weeping. I began to soothe her, to assure her... I really don't know
+what I did say to her. 'You will wake up the girl,' I say to her;
+'Aleksandra Andreyevna, I thank you ... believe me ... calm yourself.'
+'Enough, enough!' she persisted; 'never mind all of them; let them
+wake, then; let them come in--it does not matter; I am dying, you
+see... And what do you fear? why are you afraid? Lift up your head...
+Or, perhaps, you don't love me; perhaps I am wrong... In that case,
+forgive me.' 'Aleksandra Andreyevna, what are you saying!... I love
+you, Aleksandra Andreyevna.' She looked straight into my eyes, and
+opened her arms wide. 'Then take me in your arms.' I tell you frankly,
+I don't know how it was I did not go mad that night. I feel that my
+patient is killing herself; I see that she is not fully herself; I
+understand, too, that if she did not consider herself on the point of
+death, she would never have thought of me; and, indeed, say what you
+will, it's hard to die at twenty without having known love; this was
+what was torturing her; this was why, in despair, she caught at
+me--do you understand now? But she held me in her arms, and would not
+let me go. 'Have pity on me, Aleksandra Andreyevna, and have pity on
+yourself,' I say. 'Why,' she says; 'what is there to think of? You
+know I must die.' ... This she repeated incessantly ... 'If I knew
+that I should return to life, and be a proper young lady again, I
+should be ashamed ... of course, ashamed ... but why now?' 'But who
+has said you will die?' 'Oh, no, leave off! you will not deceive me;
+you don't know how to lie--look at your face.' ... 'You shall live,
+Aleksandra Andreyevna; I will cure you; we will ask your mother's
+blessing ... we will be united--we will be happy.' 'No, no, I have
+your word; I must die ... you have promised me ... you have told me.'
+... It was cruel for me--cruel for many reasons. And see what trifling
+things can do sometimes; it seems nothing at all, but it's painful. It
+occurred to her to ask me, what is my name; not my surname, but my
+first name. I must needs be so unlucky as to be called Trifon. Yes,
+indeed; Trifon Ivanich. Every one in the house called me doctor.
+However, there's no help for it. I say, 'Trifon, madam.' She frowned,
+shook her head, and muttered something in French--ah, something
+unpleasant, of course!--and then she laughed--disagreeably too. Well,
+I spent the whole night with her in this way. Before morning I went
+away, feeling as though I were mad. When I went again into her room it
+was daytime, after morning tea. Good God! I could scarcely recognise
+her; people are laid in their grave looking better than that. I swear
+to you, on my honour, I don't understand--I absolutely don't
+understand--now, how I lived through that experience. Three days and
+nights my patient still lingered on. And what nights! What things she
+said to me! And on the last night--only imagine to yourself--I was
+sitting near her, and kept praying to God for one thing only: 'Take
+her,' I said, 'quickly, and me with her.' Suddenly the old mother
+comes unexpectedly into the room. I had already the evening before
+told her---the mother--there was little hope, and it would be well to
+send for a priest. When the sick girl saw her mother she said: 'It's
+very well you have come; look at us, we love one another--we have
+given each other our word.' 'What does she say, doctor? what does she
+say?' I turned livid. 'She _is_ wandering,' I say; 'the fever.' But
+she: 'Hush, hush; you told me something quite different just now, and
+have taken my ring. Why do you pretend? My mother is good--she will
+forgive--she will understand--and I am dying. ... I have no need to
+tell lies; give me your hand.' I jumped up and ran out of the room.
+The old lady, of course, guessed how it was.
+
+"I will not, however, weary you any longer, and to me too, of course,
+it's painful to recall all this. My patient passed away the next day.
+God rest her soul!" the doctor added, speaking quickly and with a
+sigh. "Before her death she asked her family to go out and leave me
+alone with her."
+
+"'Forgive me,' she said; 'I am perhaps to blame towards you ... my
+illness ... but believe me, I have loved no one more than you ... do
+not forget me ... keep my ring.'"
+
+The doctor turned away; I took his hand.
+
+"Ah!" he said, "let us talk of something else, or would you care to
+play preference for a small stake? It is not for people like me to
+give way to exalted emotions. There's only one thing for me to think
+of; how to keep the children from crying and the wife from scolding.
+Since then, you know, I have had time to enter into lawful wedlock, as
+they say... Oh ... I took a merchant's daughter--seven thousand for
+her dowry. Her name's Akulina; it goes well with Trifon. She is an
+ill-tempered woman, I must tell you, but luckily she's asleep all
+day... Well, shall it be preference?"
+
+We sat down to preference for halfpenny points. Trifon Ivanich won two
+rubles and a half from me, and went home late, well pleased with his
+success.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHRISTMAS TREE AND THE WEDDING
+
+
+
+BY FIODOR M. DOSTOYEVSKY
+
+
+The other day I saw a wedding... But no! I would rather tell you about
+a Christmas tree. The wedding was superb. I liked it immensely. But
+the other incident was still finer. I don't know why it is that the
+sight of the wedding reminded me of the Christmas tree. This is the
+way it happened:
+
+Exactly five years ago, on New Year's Eve, I was invited to a
+children's ball by a man high up in the business world, who had his
+connections, his circle of acquaintances, and his intrigues. So it
+seemed as though the children's ball was merely a pretext for the
+parents to come together and discuss matters of interest to
+themselves, quite innocently and casually.
+
+I was an outsider, and, as I had no special matters to air, I was able
+to spend the evening independently of the others. There was another
+gentleman present who like myself had just stumbled upon this affair
+of domestic bliss. He was the first to attract my attention. His
+appearance was not that of a man of birth or high family. He was tall,
+rather thin, very serious, and well dressed. Apparently he had no
+heart for the family festivities. The instant he went off into a
+corner by himself the smile disappeared from his face, and his thick
+dark brows knitted into a frown. He knew no one except the host and
+showed every sign of being bored to death, though bravely sustaining
+the role of thorough enjoyment to the end. Later I learned that he was
+a provincial, had come to the capital on some important, brain-racking
+business, had brought a letter of recommendation to our host, and our
+host had taken him under his protection, not at all _con amore_. It
+was merely out of politeness that he had invited him to the children's
+ball.
+
+They did not play cards with him, they did not offer him cigars. No
+one entered into conversation with him. Possibly they recognised the
+bird by its feathers from a distance. Thus, my gentleman, not knowing
+what to do with his hands, was compelled to spend the evening stroking
+his whiskers. His whiskers were really fine, but he stroked them so
+assiduously that one got the feeling that the whiskers had come into
+the world first and afterwards the man in order to stroke them.
+
+There was another guest who interested me. But he was of quite a
+different order. He was a personage. They called him Julian
+Mastakovich. At first glance one could tell he was an honoured guest
+and stood in the same relation to the host as the host to the
+gentleman of the whiskers. The host and hostess said no end of amiable
+things to him, were most attentive, wining him, hovering over him,
+bringing guests up to be introduced, but never leading him to any one
+else. I noticed tears glisten in our host's eyes when Julian
+Mastakovich remarked that he had rarely spent such a pleasant evening.
+Somehow I began to feel uncomfortable in this personage's presence.
+So, after amusing myself with the children, five of whom, remarkably
+well-fed young persons, were our host's, I went into a little
+sitting-room, entirely unoccupied, and seated myself at the end that
+was a conservatory and took up almost half the room.
+
+The children were charming. They absolutely refused to resemble their
+elders, notwithstanding the efforts of mothers and governesses. In a
+jiffy they had denuded the Christmas tree down to the very last sweet
+and had already succeeded in breaking half of their playthings before
+they even found out which belonged to whom.
+
+One of them was a particularly handsome little lad, dark-eyed,
+curly-haired, who stubbornly persisted in aiming at me with his wooden
+gun. But the child that attracted the greatest attention was his
+sister, a girl of about eleven, lovely as a Cupid. She was quiet and
+thoughtful, with large, full, dreamy eyes. The children had somehow
+offended her, and she left them and walked into the same room that I
+had withdrawn into. There she seated herself with her doll in a
+corner.
+
+"Her father is an immensely wealthy business man," the guests informed
+each other in tones of awe. "Three hundred thousand rubles set aside
+for her dowry already."
+
+As I turned to look at the group from which I heard this news item
+issuing, my glance met Julian Mastakovich's. He stood listening to the
+insipid chatter in an attitude of concentrated attention, with his
+hands behind his back and his head inclined to one side.
+
+All the while I was quite lost in admiration of the shrewdness our
+host displayed in the dispensing of the gifts. The little maid of the
+many-rubied dowry received the handsomest doll, and the rest of the
+gifts were graded in value according to the diminishing scale of the
+parents' stations in life. The last child, a tiny chap of ten, thin,
+red-haired, freckled, came into possession of a small book of nature
+stories without illustrations or even head and tail pieces. He was the
+governess's child. She was a poor widow, and her little boy, clad in a
+sorry-looking little nankeen jacket, looked thoroughly crushed and
+intimidated. He took the book of nature stories and circled slowly
+about the children's toys. He would have given anything to play with
+them. But he did not dare to. You could tell he already knew his
+place.
+
+I like to observe children. It is fascinating to watch the
+individuality in them struggling for self-assertion. I could see that
+the other children's things had tremendous charm for the red-haired
+boy, especially a toy theatre, in which he was so anxious to take a
+part that he resolved to fawn upon the other children. He smiled and
+began to play with them. His one and only apple he handed over to a
+puffy urchin whose pockets were already crammed with sweets, and he
+even carried another youngster pickaback--all simply that he might be
+allowed to stay with the theatre.
+
+But in a few moments an impudent young person fell on him and gave him
+a pummelling. He did not dare even to cry. The governess came and told
+him to leave off interfering with the other children's games, and he
+crept away to the same room the little girl and I were in. She let him
+sit down beside her, and the two set themselves busily dressing the
+expensive doll.
+
+Almost half an hour passed, and I was nearly dozing off, as I sat
+there in the conservatory half listening to the chatter of the
+red-haired boy and the dowered beauty, when Julian Mastakovich entered
+suddenly. He had slipped out of the drawing-room under cover of a
+noisy scene among the children. From my secluded corner it had not
+escaped my notice that a few moments before he had been eagerly
+conversing with the rich girl's father, to whom he had only just been
+introduced.
+
+He stood still for a while reflecting and mumbling to himself, as if
+counting something on his fingers.
+
+"Three hundred--three hundred--eleven--twelve--thirteen--sixteen--in
+five years! Let's say four per cent--five times twelve--sixty, and on
+these sixty----. Let us assume that in five years it will amount
+to--well, four hundred. Hm--hm! But the shrewd old fox isn't likely to
+be satisfied with four per cent. He gets eight or even ten, perhaps.
+Let's suppose five hundred, five hundred thousand, at least, that's
+sure. Anything above that for pocket money--hm--"
+
+He blew his nose and was about to leave the room when he spied the
+girl and stood still. I, behind the plants, escaped his notice. He
+seemed to me to be quivering with excitement. It must have been his
+calculations that upset him so. He rubbed his hands and danced from
+place to place, and kept getting more and more excited. Finally,
+however, he conquered his emotions and came to a standstill. He cast a
+determined look at the future bride and wanted to move toward her, but
+glanced about first. Then, as if with a guilty conscience, he stepped
+over to the child on tip-toe, smiling, and bent down and kissed her
+head.
+
+His coming was so unexpected that she uttered a shriek of alarm.
+
+"What are you doing here, dear child?" he whispered, looking around
+and pinching her cheek.
+
+"We're playing."
+
+"What, with him?" said Julian Mastakovich with a look askance at the
+governess's child. "You should go into the drawing-room, my lad," he
+said to him.
+
+The boy remained silent and looked up at the man with wide-open eyes.
+Julian Mastakovich glanced round again cautiously and bent down over
+the girl.
+
+"What have you got, a doll, my dear?"
+
+"Yes, sir." The child quailed a little, and her brow wrinkled.
+
+"A doll? And do you know, my dear, what dolls are made of?"
+
+"No, sir," she said weakly, and lowered her head.
+
+"Out of rags, my dear. You, boy, you go back to the drawing-room, to
+the children," said Julian Mastakovich looking at the boy sternly.
+
+The two children frowned. They caught hold of each other and would not
+part.
+
+"And do you know why they gave you the doll?" asked Julian
+Mastakovich, dropping his voice lower and lower.
+
+"No."
+
+"Because you were a good, very good little girl the whole week."
+
+Saying which, Julian Mastakovich was seized with a paroxysm of
+agitation. He looked round and said in a tone faint, almost inaudible
+with excitement and impatience:
+
+"If I come to visit your parents will you love me, my dear?"
+
+He tried to kiss the sweet little creature, but the red-haired boy saw
+that she was on the verge of tears, and he caught her hand and sobbed
+out loud in sympathy. That enraged the man.
+
+"Go away! Go away! Go back to the other room, to your playmates."
+
+"I don't want him to. I don't want him to! You go away!" cried the
+girl. "Let him alone! Let him alone!" She was almost weeping.
+
+There was a sound of footsteps in the doorway. Julian Mastakovich
+started and straightened up his respectable body. The red-haired boy
+was even more alarmed. He let go the girl's hand, sidled along the
+wall, and escaped through the drawing-room into the dining-room.
+
+Not to attract attention, Julian Mastakovich also made for the
+dining-room. He was red as a lobster. The sight of himself in a mirror
+seemed to embarrass him. Presumably he was annoyed at his own ardour
+and impatience. Without due respect to his importance and dignity, his
+calculations had lured and pricked him to the greedy eagerness of a
+boy, who makes straight for his object--though this was not as yet an
+object; it only would be so in five years' time. I followed the worthy
+man into the dining-room, where I witnessed a remarkable play.
+
+Julian Mastakovich, all flushed with vexation, venom in his look,
+began to threaten the red-haired boy. The red-haired boy retreated
+farther and farther until there was no place left for him to retreat
+to, and he did not know where to turn in his fright.
+
+"Get out of here! What are you doing here? Get out, I say, you
+good-for-nothing! Stealing fruit, are you? Oh, so, stealing fruit! Get
+out, you freckle face, go to your likes!"
+
+The frightened child, as a last desperate resort, crawled quickly
+under the table. His persecutor, completely infuriated, pulled out his
+large linen handkerchief and used it as a lash to drive the boy out of
+his position.
+
+Here I must remark that Julian Mastakovich was a somewhat corpulent
+man, heavy, well-fed, puffy-cheeked, with a paunch and ankles as round
+as nuts. He perspired and puffed and panted. So strong was his dislike
+(or was it jealousy?) of the child that he actually began to carry on
+like a madman.
+
+I laughed heartily. Julian Mastakovich turned. He was utterly confused
+and for a moment, apparently, quite oblivious of his immense
+importance. At that moment our host appeared in the doorway opposite.
+The boy crawled out from under the table and wiped his knees and
+elbows. Julian Mastakovich hastened to carry his handkerchief, which
+he had been dangling by the corner, to his nose. Our host looked at
+the three of us rather suspiciously. But, like a man who knows the
+world and can readily adjust himself, he seized upon the opportunity
+to lay hold of his very valuable guest and get what he wanted out of
+him.
+
+"Here's the boy I was talking to you about," he said, indicating the
+red-haired child. "I took the liberty of presuming on your goodness in
+his behalf."
+
+"Oh," replied Julian Mastakovich, still not quite master of himself.
+
+"He's my governess's son," our host continued in a beseeching tone.
+"She's a poor creature, the widow of an honest official. That's why,
+if it were possible for you--"
+
+"Impossible, impossible!" Julian Mastakovich cried hastily. "You must
+excuse me, Philip Alexeyevich, I really cannot. I've made inquiries.
+There are no vacancies, and there is a waiting list of ten who have a
+greater right--I'm sorry."
+
+"Too bad," said our host. "He's a quiet, unobtrusive child."
+
+"A very naughty little rascal, I should say," said Julian Mastakovich,
+wryly. "Go away, boy. Why are you here still? Be off with you to the
+other children."
+
+Unable to control himself, he gave me a sidelong glance. Nor could I
+control myself. I laughed straight in his face. He turned away and
+asked our host, in tones quite audible to me, who that odd young
+fellow was. They whispered to each other and left the room,
+disregarding me.
+
+I shook with laughter. Then I, too, went to the drawing-room. There
+the great man, already surrounded by the fathers and mothers and the
+host and the hostess, had begun to talk eagerly with a lady to whom he
+had just been introduced. The lady held the rich little girl's hand.
+Julian Mastakovich went into fulsome praise of her. He waxed ecstatic
+over the dear child's beauty, her talents, her grace, her excellent
+breeding, plainly laying himself out to flatter the mother, who
+listened scarcely able to restrain tears of joy, while the father
+showed his delight by a gratified smile.
+
+The joy was contagious. Everybody shared in it. Even the children were
+obliged to stop playing so as not to disturb the conversation. The
+atmosphere was surcharged with awe. I heard the mother of the
+important little girl, touched to her profoundest depths, ask Julian
+Mastakovich in the choicest language of courtesy, whether he would
+honour them by coming to see them. I heard Julian Mastakovich accept
+the invitation with unfeigned enthusiasm. Then the guests scattered
+decorously to different parts of the room, and I heard them, with
+veneration in their tones, extol the business man, the business man's
+wife, the business man's daughter, and, especially, Julian
+Mastakovich.
+
+"Is he married?" I asked out loud of an acquaintance of mine standing
+beside Julian Mastakovich.
+
+Julian Mastakovich gave me a venomous look.
+
+"No," answered my acquaintance, profoundly shocked by
+my--intentional--indiscretion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Not long ago I passed the Church of----. I was struck by the concourse
+of people gathered there to witness a wedding. It was a dreary day. A
+drizzling rain was beginning to come down. I made my way through the
+throng into the church. The bridegroom was a round, well-fed,
+pot-bellied little man, very much dressed up. He ran and fussed about
+and gave orders and arranged things. Finally word was passed that the
+bride was coming. I pushed through the crowd, and I beheld a
+marvellous beauty whose first spring was scarcely commencing. But the
+beauty was pale and sad. She looked distracted. It seemed to me even
+that her eyes were red from recent weeping. The classic severity of
+every line of her face imparted a peculiar significance and solemnity
+to her beauty. But through that severity and solemnity, through the
+sadness, shone the innocence of a child. There was something
+inexpressibly naïve, unsettled and young in her features, which,
+without words, seemed to plead for mercy.
+
+They said she was just sixteen years old. I looked at the bridegroom
+carefully. Suddenly I recognised Julian Mastakovich, whom I had not
+seen again in all those five years. Then I looked at the bride
+again.--Good God! I made my way, as quickly as I could, out of the
+church. I heard gossiping in the crowd about the bride's wealth--about
+her dowry of five hundred thousand rubles--so and so much for pocket
+money.
+
+"Then his calculations were correct," I thought, as I pressed out into
+the street.
+
+
+
+
+GOD SEES THE TRUTH, BUT WAITS
+
+
+
+BY LEO N. TOLSTOY
+
+
+In the town of Vladimir lived a young merchant named Ivan Dmitrich
+Aksionov. He had two shops and a house of his own.
+
+Aksionov was a handsome, fair-haired, curly-headed fellow, full of
+fun, and very fond of singing. When quite a young man he had been
+given to drink, and was riotous when he had had too much; but after he
+married he gave up drinking, except now and then.
+
+One summer Aksionov was going to the Nizhny Fair, and as he bade
+good-bye to his family, his wife said to him, "Ivan Dmitrich, do not
+start to-day; I have had a bad dream about you."
+
+Aksionov laughed, and said, "You are afraid that when I get to the
+fair I shall go on a spree."
+
+His wife replied: "I do not know what I am afraid of; all I know is
+that I had a bad dream. I dreamt you returned from the town, and when
+you took off your cap I saw that your hair was quite grey."
+
+Aksionov laughed. "That's a lucky sign," said he. "See if I don't sell
+out all my goods, and bring you some presents from the fair."
+
+So he said good-bye to his family, and drove away.
+
+When he had travelled half-way, he met a merchant whom he knew, and
+they put up at the same inn for the night. They had some tea together,
+and then went to bed in adjoining rooms.
+
+It was not Aksionov's habit to sleep late, and, wishing to travel
+while it was still cool, he aroused his driver before dawn, and told
+him to put in the horses.
+
+Then he made his way across to the landlord of the inn (who lived in a
+cottage at the back), paid his bill, and continued his journey.
+
+When he had gone about twenty-five miles, he stopped for the horses to
+be fed. Aksionov rested awhile in the passage of the inn, then he
+stepped out into the porch, and, ordering a samovar to be heated, got
+out his guitar and began to play.
+
+Suddenly a troika drove up with tinkling bells and an official
+alighted, followed by two soldiers. He came to Aksionov and began to
+question him, asking him who he was and whence he came. Aksionov
+answered him fully, and said, "Won't you have some tea with me?" But
+the official went on cross-questioning him and asking him. "Where did
+you spend last night? Were you alone, or with a fellow-merchant? Did
+you see the other merchant this morning? Why did you leave the inn
+before dawn?"
+
+Aksionov wondered why he was asked all these questions, but he
+described all that had happened, and then added, "Why do you
+cross-question me as if I were a thief or a robber? I am travelling on
+business of my own, and there is no need to question me."
+
+Then the official, calling the soldiers, said, "I am the
+police-officer of this district, and I question you because the
+merchant with whom you spent last night has been found with his throat
+cut. We must search your things."
+
+They entered the house. The soldiers and the police-officer unstrapped
+Aksionov's luggage and searched it. Suddenly the officer drew a knife
+out of a bag, crying, "Whose knife is this?"
+
+Aksionov looked, and seeing a blood-stained knife taken from his bag,
+he was frightened.
+
+"How is it there is blood on this knife?"
+
+Aksionov tried to answer, but could hardly utter a word, and only
+stammered: "I--don't know--not mine." Then the police-officer said:
+"This morning the merchant was found in bed with his throat cut. You
+are the only person who could have done it. The house was locked from
+inside, and no one else was there. Here is this blood-stained knife in
+your bag and your face and manner betray you! Tell me how you killed
+him, and how much money you stole?"
+
+Aksionov swore he had not done it; that he had not seen the merchant
+after they had had tea together; that he had no money except eight
+thousand rubles of his own, and that the knife was not his. But his
+voice was broken, his face pale, and he trembled with fear as though
+he went guilty.
+
+The police-officer ordered the soldiers to bind Aksionov and to put
+him in the cart. As they tied his feet together and flung him into the
+cart, Aksionov crossed himself and wept. His money and goods were
+taken from him, and he was sent to the nearest town and imprisoned
+there. Enquiries as to his character were made in Vladimir. The
+merchants and other inhabitants of that town said that in former days
+he used to drink and waste his time, but that he was a good man. Then
+the trial came on: he was charged with murdering a merchant from
+Ryazan, and robbing him of twenty thousand rubles.
+
+His wife was in despair, and did not know what to believe. Her
+children were all quite small; one was a baby at her breast. Taking
+them all with her, she went to the town where her husband was in jail.
+At first she was not allowed to see him; but after much begging, she
+obtained permission from the officials, and was taken to him. When she
+saw her husband in prison-dress and in chains, shut up with thieves
+and criminals, she fell down, and did not come to her senses for a
+long time. Then she drew her children to her, and sat down near him.
+She told him of things at home, and asked about what had happened to
+him. He told her all, and she asked, "What can we do now?"
+
+"We must petition the Czar not to let an innocent man perish."
+
+His wife told him that she had sent a petition to the Czar, but it had
+not been accepted.
+
+Aksionov did not reply, but only looked downcast.
+
+Then his wife said, "It was not for nothing I dreamt your hair had
+turned grey. You remember? You should not have started that day." And
+passing her fingers through his hair, she said: "Vanya dearest, tell
+your wife the truth; was it not you who did it?"
+
+"So you, too, suspect me!" said Aksionov, and, hiding his face in his
+hands, he began to weep. Then a soldier came to say that the wife and
+children must go away; and Aksionov said good-bye to his family for
+the last time.
+
+When they were gone, Aksionov recalled what had been said, and when he
+remembered that his wife also had suspected him, he said to himself,
+"It seems that only God can know the truth; it is to Him alone we must
+appeal, and from Him alone expect mercy."
+
+And Aksionov wrote no more petitions; gave up all hope, and only
+prayed to God.
+
+Aksionov was condemned to be flogged and sent to the mines. So he was
+flogged with a knot, and when the wounds made by the knot were healed,
+he was driven to Siberia with other convicts.
+
+For twenty-six years Aksionov lived as a convict in Siberia. His hair
+turned white as snow, and his beard grew long, thin, and grey. All his
+mirth went; he stooped; he walked slowly, spoke little, and never
+laughed, but he often prayed.
+
+In prison Aksionov learnt to make boots, and earned a little money,
+with which he bought _The Lives of the Saints_. He read this book when
+there was light enough in the prison; and on Sundays in the
+prison-church he read the lessons and sang in the choir; for his voice
+was still good.
+
+The prison authorities liked Aksionov for his meekness, and his
+fellow-prisoners respected him: they called him "Grandfather," and
+"The Saint." When they wanted to petition the prison authorities about
+anything, they always made Aksionov their spokesman, and when there
+were quarrels among the prisoners they came to him to put things
+right, and to judge the matter.
+
+No news reached Aksionov from his home, and he did not even know if
+his wife and children were still alive.
+
+One day a fresh gang of convicts came to the prison. In the evening
+the old prisoners collected round the new ones and asked them what
+towns or villages they came from, and what they were sentenced for.
+Among the rest Aksionov sat down near the newcomers, and listened with
+downcast air to what was said.
+
+One of the new convicts, a tall, strong man of sixty, with a
+closely-cropped grey beard, was telling the others what be had been
+arrested for.
+
+"Well, friends," he said, "I only took a horse that was tied to a
+sledge, and I was arrested and accused of stealing. I said I had only
+taken it to get home quicker, and had then let it go; besides, the
+driver was a personal friend of mine. So I said, 'It's all right.'
+'No,' said they, 'you stole it.' But how or where I stole it they
+could not say. I once really did something wrong, and ought by rights
+to have come here long ago, but that time I was not found out. Now I
+have been sent here for nothing at all... Eh, but it's lies I'm
+telling you; I've been to Siberia before, but I did not stay long."
+
+"Where are you from?" asked some one.
+
+"From Vladimir. My family are of that town. My name is Makar, and they
+also call me Semyonich."
+
+Aksionov raised his head and said: "Tell me, Semyonich, do you know
+anything of the merchants Aksionov of Vladimir? Are they still alive?"
+
+"Know them? Of course I do. The Aksionovs are rich, though their
+father is in Siberia: a sinner like ourselves, it seems! As for you,
+Gran'dad, how did you come here?"
+
+Aksionov did not like to speak of his misfortune. He only sighed, and
+said, "For my sins I have been in prison these twenty-six years."
+
+"What sins?" asked Makar Semyonich.
+
+But Aksionov only said, "Well, well--I must have deserved it!" He
+would have said no more, but his companions told the newcomers how
+Aksionov came to be in Siberia; how some one had killed a merchant,
+and had put the knife among Aksionov's things, and Aksionov had been
+unjustly condemned.
+
+When Makar Semyonich heard this, he looked at Aksionov, slapped his
+_own_ knee, and exclaimed, "Well, this is wonderful! Really wonderful!
+But how old you've grown, Gran'dad!"
+
+The others asked him why he was so surprised, and where he had seen
+Aksionov before; but Makar Semyonich did not reply. He only said:
+"It's wonderful that we should meet here, lads!"
+
+These words made Aksionov wonder whether this man knew who had killed
+the merchant; so he said, "Perhaps, Semyonich, you have heard of that
+affair, or maybe you've seen me before?"
+
+"How could I help hearing? The world's full of rumours. But it's a
+long time ago, and I've forgotten what I heard."
+
+"Perhaps you heard who killed the merchant?" asked Aksionov.
+
+Makar Semyonich laughed, and replied: "It must have been him in whose
+bag the knife was found! If some one else hid the knife there, 'He's
+not a thief till he's caught,' as the saying is. How could any one put
+a knife into your bag while it was under your head? It would surely
+have woke you up."
+
+When Aksionov heard these words, he felt sure this was the man who had
+killed the merchant. He rose and went away. All that night Aksionov
+lay awake. He felt terribly unhappy, and all sorts of images rose in
+his mind. There was the image of his wife as she was when he parted
+from her to go to the fair. He saw her as if she were present; her
+face and her eyes rose before him; he heard her speak and laugh. Then
+he saw his children, quite little, as they were at that time: one
+with a little cloak on, another at his mother's breast. And then he
+remembered himself as he used to be-young and merry. He remembered how
+he sat playing the guitar in the porch of the inn where he was
+arrested, and how free from care he had been. He saw, in his mind, the
+place where he was flogged, the executioner, and the people standing
+around; the chains, the convicts, all the twenty-six years of his
+prison life, and his premature old age. The thought of it all made him
+so wretched that he was ready to kill himself.
+
+"And it's all that villain's doing!" thought Aksionov. And his anger
+was so great against Makar Semyonich that he longed for vengeance,
+even if he himself should perish for it. He kept repeating prayers all
+night, but could get no peace. During the day he did not go near Makar
+Semyonich, nor even look at him.
+
+A fortnight passed in this way. Aksionov could not sleep at night, and
+was so miserable that he did not know what to do.
+
+One night as he was walking about the prison he noticed some earth
+that came rolling out from under one of the shelves on which the
+prisoners slept. He stopped to see what it was. Suddenly Makar
+Semyonich crept out from under the shelf, and looked up at Aksionov
+with frightened face. Aksionov tried to pass without looking at him,
+but Makar seized his hand and told him that he had dug a hole under
+the wall, getting rid of the earth by putting it into his high-boots,
+and emptying it out every day on the road when the prisoners were
+driven to their work.
+
+"Just you keep quiet, old man, and you shall get out too. If you blab,
+they'll flog the life out of me, but I will kill you first."
+
+Aksionov trembled with anger as he looked at his enemy. He drew his
+hand away, saying, "I have no wish to escape, and you have no need to
+kill me; you killed me long ago! As to telling of you--I may do so or
+not, as God shall direct."
+
+Next day, when the convicts were led out to work, the convoy soldiers
+noticed that one or other of the prisoners emptied some earth out of
+his boots. The prison was searched and the tunnel found. The Governor
+came and questioned all the prisoners to find out who had dug the
+hole. They all denied any knowledge of it. Those who knew would not
+betray Makar Semyonich, knowing he would be flogged almost to death.
+At last the Governor turned to Aksionov whom he knew to be a just man,
+and said:
+
+"You are a truthful old man; tell me, before God, who dug the hole?"
+
+Makar Semyonich stood as if he were quite unconcerned, looking at the
+Governor and not so much as glancing at Aksionov. Aksionov's lips and
+hands trembled, and for a long time he could not utter a word. He
+thought, "Why should I screen him who ruined my life? Let him pay for
+what I have suffered. But if I tell, they will probably flog the life
+out of him, and maybe I suspect him wrongly. And, after all, what good
+would it be to me?"
+
+"Well, old man," repeated the Governor, "tell me the truth: who has
+been digging under the wall?"
+
+Aksionov glanced at Makar Semyonich, and said, "I cannot say, your
+honour. It is not God's will that I should tell! Do what you like with
+me; I am in your hands."
+
+However much the Governor tried, Aksionov would say no more, and so
+the matter had to be left.
+
+That night, when Aksionov was lying on his bed and just beginning to
+doze, some one came quietly and sat down on his bed. He peered through
+the darkness and recognised Makar.
+
+"What more do you want of me?" asked Aksionov. "Why have you come
+here?"
+
+Makar Semyonich was silent. So Aksionov sat up and said, "What do you
+want? Go away, or I will call the guard!"
+
+Makar Semyonich bent close over Aksionov, and whispered, "Ivan
+Dmitrich, forgive me!"
+
+"What for?" asked Aksionov.
+
+"It was I who killed the merchant and hid the knife among your things.
+I meant to kill you too, but I heard a noise outside, so I hid the
+knife in your bag and escaped out of the window."
+
+Aksionov was silent, and did not know what to say. Makar Semyonich
+slid off the bed-shelf and knelt upon the ground. "Ivan Dmitrich,"
+said he, "forgive me! For the love of God, forgive me! I will confess
+that it was I who killed the merchant, and you will be released and
+can go to your home."
+
+"It is easy for you to talk," said Aksionov, "but I have suffered for
+you these twenty-six years. Where could I go to now?... My wife is
+dead, and my children have forgotten me. I have nowhere to go..."
+
+Makar Semyonich did not rise, but beat his head on the floor. "Ivan
+Dmitrich, forgive me!" he cried. "When they flogged me with the knot
+it was not so hard to bear as it is to see you now ... yet you had
+pity on me, and did not tell. For Christ's sake forgive me, wretch
+that I am!" And he began to sob.
+
+When Aksionov heard him sobbing he, too, began to weep. "God will
+forgive you!" said he. "Maybe I am a hundred times worse than you."
+And at these words his heart grew light, and the longing for home left
+him. He no longer had any desire to leave the prison, but only hoped
+for his last hour to come.
+
+In spite of what Aksionov had said, Makar Semyonich confessed his
+guilt. But when the order for his release came, Aksionov was already
+dead.
+
+
+
+
+HOW A MUZHIK FED TWO OFFICIALS
+
+
+
+BY M.Y. SALTYKOV [_N.Shchedrin_]
+
+
+Once upon a time there were two Officials. They were both
+empty-headed, and so they found themselves one day suddenly
+transported to an uninhabited isle, as if on a magic carpet.
+
+They had passed their whole life in a Government Department, where
+records were kept; had been born there, bred there, grown old there,
+and consequently hadn't the least understanding for anything outside
+of the Department; and the only words they knew were: "With assurances
+of the highest esteem, I am your humble servant."
+
+But the Department was abolished, and as the services of the two
+Officials were no longer needed, they were given their freedom. So the
+retired Officials migrated to Podyacheskaya Street in St. Petersburg.
+Each had his own home, his own cook and his pension.
+
+Waking up on the uninhabited isle, they found themselves lying under
+the same cover. At first, of course, they couldn't understand what had
+happened to them, and they spoke as if nothing extraordinary had taken
+place.
+
+"What a peculiar dream I had last night, your Excellency," said the
+one Official. "It seemed to me as if I were on an uninhabited isle."
+
+Scarcely had he uttered the words, when he jumped to his feet. The
+other Official also jumped up.
+
+"Good Lord, what does this mean! Where are we?" they cried out in
+astonishment.
+
+They felt each other to make sure that they were no longer dreaming,
+and finally convinced themselves of the sad reality.
+
+Before them stretched the ocean, and behind them was a little spot of
+earth, beyond which the ocean stretched again. They began to cry--the
+first time since their Department had been shut down.
+
+They looked at each other, and each noticed that the other was clad in
+nothing but his night shirt with his order hanging about his neck.
+
+"We really should be having our coffee now," observed the one
+Official. Then he bethought himself again of the strange situation he
+was in and a second time fell to weeping.
+
+"What are we going to do now?" he sobbed. "Even supposing we were to
+draw up a report, what good would that do?"
+
+"You know what, your Excellency," replied the other Official, "you go
+to the east and I will go to the west. Toward evening we will come
+back here again and, perhaps, we shall have found something."
+
+They started to ascertain which was the east and which was the west.
+They recalled that the head of their Department had once said to them,
+"If you want to know where the east is, then turn your face to the
+north, and the east will be on your right." But when they tried to
+find out which was the north, they turned to the right and to the left
+and looked around on all sides. Having spent their whole life in the
+Department of Records, their efforts were all in vain.
+
+"To my mind, your Excellency, the best thing to do would be for you to
+go to the right and me to go to the left," said one Official, who had
+served not only in the Department of Records, but had also been
+teacher of handwriting in the School for Reserves, and so was a little
+bit cleverer.
+
+So said, so done. The one Official went to the right. He came upon
+trees, bearing all sorts of fruits. Gladly would he have plucked an
+apple, but they all hung so high that he would have been obliged to
+climb up. He tried to climb up in vain. All he succeeded in doing was
+tearing his night shirt. Then he struck upon a brook. It was swarming
+with fish.
+
+"Wouldn't it be wonderful if we had all this fish in Podyacheskaya
+Street!" he thought, and his mouth watered. Then he entered woods and
+found partridges, grouse and hares.
+
+"Good Lord, what an abundance of food!" he cried. His hunger was going
+up tremendously.
+
+But he had to return to the appointed spot with empty hands. He found
+the other Official waiting for him.
+
+"Well, Your Excellency, how went it? Did you find anything?"
+
+"Nothing but an old number of the _Moscow Gazette_, not another
+thing."
+
+The Officials lay down to sleep again, but their empty stomachs gave
+them no rest They were partly robbed of their sleep by the thought of
+who was now enjoying their pension, and partly by the recollection of
+the fruit, fishes, partridges, grouse and hares that they had seen
+during the day.
+
+"The human pabulum in its original form flies, swims and grows on
+trees. Who would have thought it your Excellency?" said the one
+Official.
+
+"To be sure," rejoined the other Official. "I, too, must admit that I
+had imagined that our breakfast rolls, came into the world just as
+they appear on the table."
+
+"From which it is to be deduced that if we want to eat a pheasant, we
+must catch it first, kill it, pull its feathers and roast it. But
+how's that to be done?"
+
+"Yes, how's that to be done?" repeated the other Official.
+
+They turned silent and tried again to fall asleep, but their hunger
+scared sleep away. Before their eyes swarmed flocks of pheasants and
+ducks, herds of porklings, and they were all so juicy, done so
+tenderly and garnished so deliciously with olives, capers and pickles.
+
+"I believe I could devour my own boots now," said the one Official.
+
+"Gloves, are not bad either, especially if they have been born quite
+mellow," said the other Official.
+
+The two Officials stared at each other fixedly. In their glances
+gleamed an evil-boding fire, their teeth chattered and a dull groaning
+issued from their breasts. Slowly they crept upon each other and
+suddenly they burst into a fearful frenzy. There was a yelling and
+groaning, the rags flew about, and the Official who had been teacher
+of handwriting bit off his colleague's order and swallowed it.
+However, the sight of blood brought them both back to their senses.
+
+"God help us!" they cried at the same time. "We certainly don't mean
+to eat each other up. How could we have come to such a pass as this?
+What evil genius is making sport of us?"
+
+"We must, by all means, entertain each other to pass the time away,
+otherwise there will be murder and death," said the one Official.
+
+"You begin," said the other.
+
+"Can you explain why it is that the sun first rises and then sets? Why
+isn't it the reverse?"
+
+"Aren't you a funny man, your Excellency? You get up first, then you
+go to your office and work there, and at night you lie down to sleep."
+
+"But why can't one assume the opposite, that is, that one goes to
+bed, sees all sorts of dream figures, and then gets up?"
+
+"Well, yes, certainly. But when I was still an Official, I always
+thought this way: 'Now it is dawn, then it will be day, then will
+come supper, and finally will come the time to go to bed.'"
+
+The word "supper" recalled that incident in the day's doings, and the
+thought of it made both Officials melancholy, so that the conversation
+came to a halt.
+
+"A doctor once told me that human beings can sustain themselves for a
+long time on their own juices," the one Official began again.
+
+"What does that mean?"
+
+"It is quite simple. You see, one's own juices generate other juices,
+and these in their turn still other juices, and so it goes on until
+finally all the juices are consumed."
+
+"And then what happens?"
+
+"Then food has to be taken into the system again."
+
+"The devil!"
+
+No matter what topic the Officials chose, the conversation invariably
+reverted to the subject of eating; which only increased their appetite
+more and more. So they decided to give up talking altogether, and,
+recollecting the _Moscow Gazette_ that the one of them had found, they
+picked it up and began to read eagerly.
+
+
+BANQUET GIVEN BY THE MAYOR
+
+"The table was set for one hundred persons. The magnificence of it
+exceeded all expectations. The remotest provinces were represented at
+this feast of the gods by the costliest gifts. The golden sturgeon
+from Sheksna and the silver pheasant from the Caucasian woods held a
+rendezvous with strawberries so seldom to be had in our latitude in
+winter..."
+
+"The devil! For God's sake, stop reading, your Excellency. Couldn't
+you find something else to read about?" cried the other Official in
+sheer desperation. He snatched the paper from his colleague's hands,
+and started to read something else.
+
+"Our correspondent in Tula informs us that yesterday a sturgeon was
+found in the Upa (an event which even the oldest inhabitants cannot
+recall, and all the more remarkable since they recognised the former
+police captain in this sturgeon). This was made the occasion for
+giving a banquet in the club. The prime cause of the banquet was
+served in a large wooden platter garnished with vinegar pickles. A
+bunch of parsley stuck out of its mouth. Doctor P---- who acted as
+toast-master saw to it that everybody present got a piece of the
+sturgeon. The sauces to go with it were unusually varied and
+delicate--"
+
+"Permit me, your Excellency, it seems to me you are not so careful
+either in the selection of reading matter," interrupted the first
+Official, who secured the _Gazette_ again and started to read:
+
+"One of the oldest inhabitants of Viatka has discovered a new and
+highly original recipe for fish soup; A live codfish (_lota vulgaris_)
+is taken and beaten with a rod until its liver swells up with
+anger..."
+
+The Officials' heads drooped. Whatever their eyes fell upon had
+something to do with eating. Even their own thoughts were fatal. No
+matter how much they tried to keep their minds off beefsteak and the
+like, it was all in vain; their fancy returned invariably, with
+irresistible force, back to that for which they were so painfully
+yearning.
+
+Suddenly an inspiration came to the Official who had once taught
+handwriting.
+
+"I have it!" he cried delightedly. "What do you say to this, your
+Excellency? What do you say to our finding a muzhik?"
+
+"A muzhik, your Excellency? What sort of a muzhik?"
+
+"Why a plain ordinary muzhik. A muzhik like all other muzhiks. He
+would get the breakfast rolls for us right away, and he could also
+catch partridges and fish for us."
+
+"Hm, a muzhik. But where are we to fetch one from, if there is no
+muzhik here?"
+
+"Why shouldn't there be a muzhik here? There are muzhiks everywhere.
+All one has to do is hunt for them. There certainly must be a muzhik
+hiding here somewhere so as to get out of working."
+
+This thought so cheered the Officials that they instantly jumped up to
+go in search of a muzhik.
+
+For a long while they wandered about on the island without the desired
+result, until finally a concentrated smell of black bread and old
+sheep skin assailed their nostrils and guided them in the right
+direction. There under a tree was a colossal muzhik lying fast asleep
+with his hands under his head. It was clear that to escape his duty to
+work he had impudently withdrawn to this island. The indignation of
+the Officials knew no bounds.
+
+"What, lying asleep here you lazy-bones you!" they raged at him, "It
+is nothing to you that there are two Officials here who are fairly
+perishing of hunger. Up, forward, march, work."
+
+The Muzhik rose and looked at the two severe gentlemen standing in
+front of him. His first thought was to make his escape, but the
+Officials held him fast.
+
+He had to submit to his fate. He had to work.
+
+First he climbed up on a tree and plucked several dozen of the finest
+apples for the Officials. He kept a rotten one for himself. Then he
+turned up the earth and dug out some potatoes. Next he started a fire
+with two bits of wood that he rubbed against each other. Out of his
+own hair he made a snare and caught partridges. Over the fire, by this
+time burning brightly, he cooked so many kinds of food that the
+question arose in the Officials' minds whether they shouldn't give
+some to this idler.
+
+Beholding the efforts of the Muzhik, they rejoiced in their hearts.
+They had already forgotten how the day before they had nearly been
+perishing of hunger, and all they thought of now was: "What a good
+thing it is to be an Official. Nothing bad can ever happen to an
+Official."
+
+"Are you satisfied, gentlemen?" the lazy Muzhik asked.
+
+"Yes, we appreciate your industry," replied the Officials.
+
+"Then you will permit me to rest a little?"
+
+"Go take a little rest, but first make a good strong cord."
+
+The Muzhik gathered wild hemp stalks, laid them in water, beat them
+and broke them, and toward evening a good stout cord was ready. The
+Officials took the cord and bound the Muzhik to a tree, so that he
+should not run away. Then they laid themselves to sleep.
+
+Thus day after day passed, and the Muzhik became so skilful that he
+could actually cook soup for the Officials in his bare hands. The
+Officials had become round and well-fed and happy. It rejoiced them
+that here they needn't spend any money and that in the meanwhile their
+pensions were accumulating in St. Petersburg.
+
+"What is your opinion, your Excellency," one said to the other after
+breakfast one day, "is the Story of the Tower of Babel true? Don't you
+think it is simply an allegory?"
+
+"By no means, your Excellency, I think it was something that really
+happened. What other explanation is there for the existence of so many
+different languages on earth?"
+
+"Then the Flood must really have taken place, too?"
+
+"Certainly, else; how would you explain the existence of Antediluvian
+animals? Besides, the _Moscow Gazette_ says----"
+
+They made search for the old number of the _Moscow Gazette_, seated
+themselves in the shade, and read the whole sheet from beginning to
+end. They read of festivities in Moscow, Tula, Penza and Riazan, and
+strangely enough felt no discomfort at the description of the
+delicacies served.
+
+There is no saying how long this life might have lasted. Finally,
+however, it began to bore the Officials. They often thought of their
+cooks in St. Petersburg, and even shed a few tears in secret.
+
+"I wonder how it looks in Podyacheskaya Street now, your Excellency,"
+one of them said to the other.
+
+"Oh, don't remind me of it, your Excellency. I am pining away with
+homesickness."
+
+"It is very nice here. There is really no fault to be found with this
+place, but the lamb longs for its mother sheep. And it is a pity, too,
+for the beautiful uniforms."
+
+"Yes, indeed, a uniform of the fourth class is no joke. The gold
+embroidery alone is enough to make one dizzy."
+
+Now they began to importune the Muzhik to find some way of getting
+them back to Podyacheskaya Street, and strange to say, the Muzhik even
+knew where Podyacheskaya Street was. He had once drunk beer and mead
+there, and as the saying goes, everything had run down his beard,
+alas, but nothing into his mouth. The Officials rejoiced and said: "We
+are Officials from Podyacheskaya Street."
+
+"And I am one of those men--do you remember?--who sit on a scaffolding
+hung by ropes from the roofs and paint the outside walls. I am one of
+those who crawl about on the roofs like flies. That is what I am,"
+replied the Muzhik.
+
+The Muzhik now pondered long and heavily on how to give great pleasure
+to his Officials, who had been so gracious to him, the lazy-bones, and
+had not scorned his work. And he actually succeeded in constructing a
+ship. It was not really a ship, but still it was a vessel, that would
+carry them across the ocean close to Podyacheskaya Street.
+
+"Now, take care, you dog, that you don't drown us," said the
+Officials, when they saw the raft rising and falling on the waves.
+
+"Don't be afraid. We muzhiks are used to this," said the Muzhik,
+making all the preparations for the journey. He gathered swan's-down
+and made a couch for his two Officials, then he crossed himself and
+rowed off from shore.
+
+How frightened the Officials were on the way, how seasick they were
+during the storms, how they scolded the coarse Muzhik for his
+idleness, can neither be told nor described. The Muzhik, however, just
+kept rowing on and fed his Officials on herring. At last, they caught
+sight of dear old Mother Neva. Soon they were in the glorious
+Catherine Canal, and then, oh joy! they struck the grand Podyacheskaya
+Street. When the cooks saw their Officials so well-fed, round and so
+happy, they rejoiced immensely. The Officials drank coffee and rolls,
+then put on their uniforms and drove to the Pension Bureau. How much
+money they collected there is another thing that can neither be told
+nor described. Nor was the Muzhik forgotten. The Officials sent a
+glass of whiskey out to him and five kopeks. Now, Muzhik, rejoice.
+
+
+
+
+THE SHADES, A PHANTASY
+
+
+
+BY VLADIMIR G. KORLENKO
+
+
+I
+
+A month and two days had elapsed since the judges, amid the loud
+acclaim of the Athenian people, had pronounced the death sentence
+against the philosopher Socrates because he had sought to destroy
+faith in the gods. What the gadfly is to the horse Socrates was to
+Athens. The gadfly stings the horse in order to prevent it from dozing
+off and to keep it moving briskly on its course. The philosopher said
+to the people of Athens:
+
+"I am your gadfly. My sting pricks your conscience and arouses you
+when you are caught napping. Sleep not, sleep not, people of Athens;
+awake and seek the truth!"
+
+The people arose in their exasperation and cruelly demanded to be rid
+of their gadfly.
+
+"Perchance both of his accusers, Meletus and Anytus, are wrong," said
+the citizens, on leaving the court after sentence had been pronounced.
+
+"But after all whither do his doctrines tend? What would he do? He has
+wrought confusion, he overthrows beliefs that have existed since the
+beginning, he speaks of new virtues which must be recognised and
+sought for, he speaks of a Divinity hitherto unknown to us. The
+blasphemer, he deems himself wiser than the gods! No, 'twere better we
+remain true to the old gods whom we know. They may not always be just,
+sometimes they may flare up in unjust wrath, and they may also be
+seized with a wanton lust for the wives of mortals; but did not our
+ancestors live with them in the peace of their souls, did not our
+forefathers accomplish their heroic deeds with the help of these very
+gods? And now the faces of the Olympians have paled and the old virtue
+is out of joint. What does it all lead to? Should not an end be put to
+this impious wisdom once for all?"
+
+Thus the citizens of Athens spoke to one another as they left the
+place, and the blue twilight was falling. They had determined to kill
+the restless gadfly in the hope that the countenances of the gods
+would shine again. And yet--before their souls arose the mild figure
+of the singular philosopher. There were some citizens who recalled how
+courageously he had shared their troubles and dangers at Potidæa; how
+he alone had prevented them from committing the sin of unjustly
+executing the generals after the victory over the Arginusæe; how he
+alone had dared to raise his voice against the tyrants who had had
+fifteen hundred people put to death, speaking to the people on the
+market-place concerning shepherds and their sheep.
+
+"Is not he a good shepherd," he asked, "who guards his flock and
+watches over its increase? Or is it the work of the good shepherd to
+reduce the number of his sheep and disperse them, and of the good
+ruler to do the same with his people? Men of Athens, let us
+investigate this question!"
+
+And at this question of the solitary, undefended philosopher, the
+faces of the tyrants paled, while the eyes of the youths kindled with
+the fire of just wrath and indignation.
+
+Thus, when on dispersing after the sentence the Athenians recalled all
+these things of Socrates, their hearts were oppressed with heavy
+doubt.
+
+"Have we not done a cruel wrong to the son of Sophroniscus?"
+
+But then the good Athenians looked upon the harbour and the sea, and
+in the red glow of the dying day they saw the purple sails of the
+sharp-keeled ship, sent to the Delian festival, shimmering in the
+distance on the blue Pontus. The ship would not return until the
+expiration of a month, and the Athenians recollected that during this
+time no blood might be shed in Athens, whether the blood of the
+innocent or the guilty. A month, moreover, has many days and still
+more hours. Supposing the son of Sophroniscus had been unjustly
+condemned, who would hinder his escaping from the prison, especially
+since he had numerous friends to help him? Was it so difficult for the
+rich Plato, for Æschines and others to bribe the guards? Then the
+restless gadfly would flee from Athens to the barbarians in Thessaly,
+or to the Peloponnesus, or, still farther, to Egypt; Athens would no
+longer hear his blasphemous speeches; his death would not weigh upon
+the conscience of the worthy citizens, and so everything would end for
+the best of all.
+
+Thus said many to themselves that evening, while aloud they praised
+the wisdom of the demos and the heliasts. In secret, however, they
+cherished the hope that the restless philosopher would leave Athens,
+fly from the hemlock to the barbarians, and so free the Athenians of
+his troublesome presence and of the pangs of consciences that smote
+them for inflicting death upon an innocent man.
+
+Two and thirty times since that evening had the sun risen from the
+ocean and dipped down into it again. The ship had returned from Delos
+and lay in the harbour with sadly drooping sails, as if ashamed of its
+native city. The moon did not shine in the heavens, the sea heaved
+under a heavy fog, and on the hills lights peered through the
+obscurity like the eyes of men gripped by a sense of guilt.
+
+The stubborn Socrates did not spare the conscience of the good
+Athenians.
+
+"We part! You go home and I go to death," he said to the judges after
+the sentence had been pronounced. "I know not, my friends, which of us
+chooses the better lot!"
+
+As the time had approached for the return of the ship, many of the
+citizens had begun to feel uneasy. Must that obstinate fellow really
+die? And they began to appeal to the consciences of Æschines, Phædo,
+and other pupils of Socrates, trying to urge them on to further
+efforts for their master.
+
+"Will you permit your teacher to die?" they asked reproachfully in
+biting tones. "Or do you grudge the few coins it would take to bribe
+the guard?"
+
+In vain Crito besought Socrates to take to flight, and complained that
+the public, was upbraiding his disciples with lack of friendship and
+with avarice. The self-willed philosopher refused to gratify his
+pupils or the good people of Athens.
+
+"Let us investigate." he said. "If it turns out that I must flee, I
+will flee; but if I must die, I will die. Let us remember what we once
+said--the wise man need not fear death, he need fear nothing but
+falsehood. Is it right to abide by the laws we ourselves have made so
+long as they are agreeable to us, and refuse to obey those which are
+disagreeable? If my memory does not deceive me I believe we once spoke
+of these things, did we not?"
+
+"Yes, we did," answered his pupil.
+
+"And I think all were agreed as to the answer?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But perhaps what is true for others is not true for us?"
+
+"No, truth is alike for all, including ourselves."
+
+"But perhaps when _we_ must die and not some one else, truth becomes
+untruth?"
+
+"No, Socrates, truth remains the truth under all circumstances."
+
+After his pupil had thus agreed to each premise of Socrates in turn,
+he smiled and drew his conclusion.
+
+"If that is so, my friend, mustn't I die? Or has my head already
+become so weak that I am no longer in a condition to draw a logical
+conclusion? Then correct me, my friend and show my erring brain the
+right way."
+
+His pupil covered his face with his mantle and turned aside.
+
+"Yes," he said, "now I see you must die."
+
+And on that evening when the sea tossed hither and thither and roared
+dully under the load of fog, and the whimsical wind in mournful
+astonishment gently stirred the sails of the ships; when the citizens
+meeting on the streets asked one another: "Is he dead?" and their
+voices timidly betrayed the hope that he was not dead; when the first
+breath of awakened conscience, touched the hearts of the Athenians
+like the first messenger of the storm; and when, it seemed the very
+faces of the gods were darkened with shame--on that evening at the
+sinking of the sun the self-willed man drank the cup of death!
+
+The wind increased in violence and shrouded the city more closely in
+the veil of mist, angrily tugging at the sails of the vessels delayed
+in the harbour. And the Erinyes sang their gloomy songs to the hearts
+of the citizens and whipped up in their breasts that tempest which was
+later, to overwhelm the denouncers of Socrates.
+
+But in that hour the first stirrings of regret were still uncertain
+and confused. The citizens found more fault with Socrates than ever
+because he had not given them the satisfaction of fleeing to Thessaly;
+they were annoyed with his pupils because in the last days they had
+walked about in sombre mourning attire, a living reproach to the
+Athenians; they were vexed with the judges because they had not had
+the sense and the courage to resist the blind rage of the excited
+people; they bore even the gods resentment.
+
+"To you, ye gods, have we brought this sacrifice," spoke many.
+"Rejoice, ye unsatiable!"
+
+"I know not which of us chooses the better lot!"
+
+Those words of Socrates came back to their memory, those his last
+words to the judges and to the people gathered in the court. Now he
+lay in the prison quiet and motionless under his cloak, while over the
+city hovered mourning, horror, and shame.
+
+Again he became the tormentor of the city, he who was himself no
+longer accessible to torment. The gadfly had been killed, but it stung
+the people more sharply than ever--sleep not, sleep not this night, O
+men of Athens! Sleep not! You have committed an injustice, a cruel
+injustice, which can never be erased!
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+During those sad days Xenophon, the general, a pupil of Socrates, was
+marching with his Ten Thousand in a distant land, amid dangers,
+seeking a way of return to his beloved fatherland.
+
+Æschines, Crito, Critobulus, Phædo, and Apollodorus were now occupied
+with the preparations for the modest funeral.
+
+Plato was burning his lamp and bending over a parchment; the best
+disciple of the philosopher was busy inscribing the deeds, words, and
+teachings that marked the end of the sage's life. A thought is never
+lost, and the truth discovered by a great intellect illumines the way
+for future generations like a torch in the dark.
+
+There was one other disciple of Socrates. Not long before, the
+impetuous Ctesippus had been one of the most frivolous and
+pleasure-seeking of the Athenian youths. He had set up beauty as his
+sole god, and had bowed before Clinias as its highest exemplar. But
+since he had become acquainted with Socrates, all desire for pleasure
+and all light-mindedness had gone from him. He looked on indifferently
+while others took his place with Clinias. The grace of thought and the
+harmony of spirit that he found in Socrates seemed a hundred times
+more attractive than the graceful form and the harmonious features of
+Clinias. With all the intensity of his stormy temperament he hung on
+the man who had disturbed the serenity of his virginal soul, which for
+the first time opened to doubts as the bud of a young oak opens to the
+fresh winds of spring.
+
+Now that the master was dead, he could find peace neither at his own
+hearth nor in the oppressive stillness of the streets nor among his
+friends and fellow-disciples. The gods of hearth and home and the gods
+of the people inspired him with repugnance.
+
+"I know not," he said, "whether ye are the best of all the gods to
+whom numerous generations have burned incense and brought offerings;
+all I know is that for your sake the blind mob extinguished the clear
+torch of truth, and for your sake sacrificed the greatest and best of
+mortals!"
+
+It almost seemed to Ctesippus as though the streets and market-places
+still echoed with the shrieking of that unjust sentence. And he
+remembered how it was here that the people clamoured for the execution
+of the generals who had led them to victory against the Argunisæ, and
+how Socrates alone had opposed the savage sentence of the judges and
+the blind rage of the mob. But when Socrates himself needed a
+champion, no one had been found to defend him with equal strength.
+Ctesippus blamed himself and his friends, and for that reason he
+wanted to avoid everybody--even himself, if possible.
+
+That evening he went to the sea. But his grief grew only the more
+violent. It seemed to him that the mourning daughters of Nereus were
+tossing hither and thither on the shore bewailing the death of the
+best of the Athenians and the folly of the frenzied city. The waves
+broke on the rocky coast with a growl of lament. Their booming sounded
+like a funeral dirge.
+
+He turned away, left the shore, and went on further without looking
+before him. He forgot time and space and his own ego, filled only with
+the afflicting thought of Socrates!
+
+"Yesterday he still was, yesterday his mild words still could be
+heard. How is it possible that to-day he no longer is? O night, O
+giant mountain shrouded in mist, O heaving sea moved by your own life,
+O restless winds that carry the breath of an immeasurable world on
+your wings, O starry vault flecked with flying clouds--take me to you,
+disclose to me the mystery of this death, if it is revealed to you!
+And if ye know not, then grant my ignorant soul your own lofty
+indifference. Remove from me these torturing questions. I no longer
+have strength to carry them in my bosom without an answer, without
+even the hope of an answer. For who shall answer them, now that the
+lips of Socrates are sealed in eternal silence, and eternal darkness
+is laid upon his lids?"
+
+Thus Ctesippus cried out to the sea and the mountains, and to the dark
+night, which followed its invariable course, ceaselessly, invisibly,
+over the slumbering world. Many hours passed before Ctesippus glanced
+up and saw whither his steps had unconsciously led him. A dark horror
+seized his soul as he looked about him.
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+It seemed as if the unknown gods of eternal night had heard his
+impious prayer. Ctesippus looked about, without being able to
+recognise the place where he was. The lights of the city had long been
+extinguished by the darkness. The roaring of the sea had died away in
+the distance; his anxious soul had even lost the recollection of
+having heard it. No single sound--no mournful cry of nocturnal bird,
+nor whirr of wings, nor rustling of trees, nor murmur of a merry
+stream--broke the deep silence. Only the blind will-o'-the-wisps
+flickered here and there over rocks, and sheet-lightning,
+unaccompanied by any sound, flared up and died down against
+crag-peaks. This brief illumination merely emphasised the darkness;
+and the dead light disclosed the outlines of dead deserts crossed by
+gorges like crawling serpents, and rising into rocky heights in a wild
+chaos.
+
+All the joyous gods that haunt green groves, purling brooks, and
+mountain valleys seemed to have fled forever from these deserts. Pan
+alone, the great and mysterious Pan, was hiding somewhere nearby in
+the chaos of nature, and with mocking glance seemed to be pursuing the
+tiny ant that a short time before had blasphemously asked to know the
+secret of the world and of death. Dark, senseless horror overwhelmed
+the soul of Ctesippus. It is thus that the sea in stormy floodtide
+overwhelms a rock on the shore.
+
+Was it a dream, was it reality, or was it the revelation of the
+unknown divinity? Ctesippus felt that in an instant he would step
+across the threshold of life, and that his soul would melt into an
+ocean of unending, inconceivable horror like a drop of rain in the
+waves of the grey sea on a dark and stormy night. But at this moment
+he suddenly heard voices that seemed familiar to him, and in the glare
+of the sheet-lightning his eyes recognised human figures.
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+On a rocky slope sat a man in deep despair. He had thrown a cloak over
+his head and was bowed to the ground. Another figure approached him
+softly, cautiously climbing upward and carefully feeling every step.
+The first man uncovered his face and exclaimed:
+
+"Is that you I just now saw, my good Socrates? Is that you passing by
+me in this cheerless place? I have already spent many hours here
+without knowing when day will relieve the night. I have been waiting
+in vain for the dawn."
+
+"Yes, I am Socrates, my friend, and you, are you not Elpidias who died
+three days before me?"
+
+"Yes, I am Elpidias, formerly the richest tanner in Athens, now the
+most miserable of slaves. For the first time I understand the words of
+the poet: 'Better to be a slave in this world than a ruler in gloomy
+Hades.'"
+
+"My friend, if it is disagreeable for you where you are, why don't you
+move to another spot?"
+
+"O Socrates, I marvel at you--how dare you wander about in this
+cheerless gloom? I--I sit here overcome with grief and bemoan the joys
+of a fleeting life."
+
+"Friend Elpidias, like you, I, too, was plunged in this gloom when the
+light of earthly life was removed from my eyes. But an inner voice
+told me: 'Tread this new path without hesitation', and I went."
+
+"But whither do you go, O son of Sophroniscus? Here there is no way,
+no path, not even a ray of light; nothing but a chaos of rocks, mist,
+and gloom."
+
+"True. But, my Elpidias, since you are aware of this sad truth, have
+you not asked yourself what is the most distressing thing in your
+present situation?"
+
+"Undoubtedly the dismal darkness."
+
+"Then one should seek for light. Perchance you will find here the
+great law--that mortals must in darkness seek the source of life. Do
+you not think it is better so to seek than to remain sitting in one
+spot? _I_ think it is, therefore I keep walking. Farewell!"
+
+"Oh, good Socrates, abandon me not! You go with sure steps through the
+pathless chaos in Hades. Hold out to me but a fold of your mantle--"
+
+"If you think it is better for you, too, then follow me, friend
+Elpidias."
+
+And the two shades walked on, while the soul of Ctesippus, released by
+sleep from its mortal envelop, flew after them, greedily absorbing the
+tones of the clear Socratic speech.
+
+"Are you here, good Socrates?" the voice of the Athenian again was
+heard. "Why are you silent? Converse shortens the way, and I swear, by
+Hercules, never did I have to traverse such a horrid way."
+
+"Put questions, friend Elpidias! The question of one who seeks
+knowledge brings forth answers and produces conversation."
+
+Elpidias maintained silence for a moment, and then, after he had
+collected his thoughts, asked:
+
+"Yes, this is what I wanted to say--tell me, my poor Socrates, did
+they at least give you a good burial?"
+
+"I must confess, friend Elpidias, I cannot satisfy your curiosity."
+
+"I understand, my poor Socrates, it doesn't help you cut a figure. Now
+with me it was so different! Oh, how they buried me, how magnificently
+they buried me, my poor fellow-Wanderer! I still think with great
+pleasure of those lovely moments after my death. First they washed me
+and sprinkled me with well-smelling balsam. Then my faithful Larissa
+dressed me in garments of the finest weave. The best mourning-women of
+the city tore their hair from their heads because they had been
+promised good pay, and in the family vault they placed an amphora--a
+crater with beautiful, decorated handles of bronze, and, besides, a
+vial.--"
+
+"Stay, friend Elpidias. I am convinced that the faithful Larissa
+converted her love into several minas. Yet--"
+
+"Exactly ten minas and four drachmas, not counting the drinks for the
+guests. I hardly think that the richest tanner can come before the
+souls of his ancestors and boast of such respect on the part of the
+living."
+
+"Friend Elpidias, don't you think that money would have been of more
+use to the poor people who are still alive in Athens than to you at
+this moment?"
+
+"Admit, Socrates, you are speaking in envy," responded Elpidias,
+pained. "I am sorry for you, unfortunate Socrates, although, between
+ourselves, you really deserved your fate. I myself in the family
+circle said more than once that an end ought to be put to your impious
+doings, because--"
+
+"Stay, friend, I thought you wanted to draw a conclusion, and I fear
+you are straying from the straight path. Tell me, my good friend,
+whither does your wavering thought tend?"
+
+"I wanted to say that in my goodness I am sorry for you. A month ago I
+myself spoke against you in the assembly, but truly none of us who
+shouted so loud wanted such a great ill to befall you. Believe me, now
+I am all the sorrier for you, unhappy philosopher!"
+
+"I thank you. But tell me, my friend, do you perceive a brightness
+before your eyes?"
+
+"No, on the contrary such darkness lies before me that I must ask
+myself whether this is not the misty region of Orcus."
+
+"This way, therefore, is just as dark for you as for me?"
+
+"Quite right."
+
+"If I am not mistaken, you are even holding on to the folds of my
+cloak?"
+
+"Also true."
+
+"Then we are in the same position? You see your ancestors are not
+hastening to rejoice in the tale of your pompous burial. Where is the
+difference between us, my good friend?"
+
+"But, Socrates, have the gods enveloped your reason in such obscurity
+that the difference is not clear to you?"
+
+"Friend, if your situation is clearer to you, then give me your hand
+and lead me, for I swear, by the dog, you let me go ahead in this
+darkness."
+
+"Cease your scoffing, Socrates! Do not make sport, and do not compare
+yourself, your godless self, with a man who died in his own bed----".
+
+"Ah, I believe I am beginning to understand you. But tell me,
+Elpidias, do you hope ever again to rejoice in your bed?"
+
+"Oh, I think not."
+
+"And was there ever a time when you did not sleep in it?"
+
+"Yes. That was before I bought goods from Agesilaus at half their
+value. You see, that Agesilaus is really a deep-dyed rogue----"
+
+"Ah, never mind about Agesilaus! Perhaps he is getting them back, from
+your widow at a quarter their value. Then wasn't I right when I said
+that you were in possession of your bed only part of the time?"
+
+"Yes, you were right."
+
+"Well, and I, too, was in possession of the bed in which I died part
+of the time. Proteus, the good guard of the prison, lent it to me for
+a period."
+
+"Oh, if I had known what you were aiming at with your talk, I wouldn't
+have answered your wily questions. By Hercules, such profanation is
+unheard of--he compares himself with me! Why, I could put an end to
+you with two words, if it came to it----"
+
+"Say them, Elpidias, without fear. Words can scarcely be more
+destructive to me than the hemlock."
+
+"Well, then, that is just what I wanted to say. You unfortunate man,
+you died by the sentence of the court and had to drink hemlock!"
+
+"But I have known that since the day of my death, even long before.
+And you, unfortunate Elpidias, tell me what caused your death?"
+
+"Oh, with me, it was different, entirely different! You see I got the
+dropsy in my abdomen. An expensive physician from Corinth was called
+who promised to cure me for two minas, and he was given half that
+amount in advance. I am afraid that Larissa in her lack of experience
+in such things gave him the other half, too----"
+
+"Then the physician did not keep his promise?"
+
+"That's it."
+
+"And you died from dropsy?"
+
+"Ah, Socrates, believe me, three times it wanted to vanquish me, and
+finally it quenched the flame of my life!"
+
+"Then tell me--did death by dropsy give you great pleasure?"
+
+"Oh, wicked Socrates, don't make sport of me. I told you it wanted to
+vanquish me three times. I bellowed like a steer under the knife of
+the slaughterer, and begged the Parcæ to cut the thread of my life as
+quickly as possible."
+
+"That doesn't surprise me. But from what do you conclude that the
+dropsy was pleasanter to you than the hemlock to me? The hemlock made
+an end of me in a moment."
+
+"I see, I fell into your snare again, you crafty sinner! I won't
+enrage the gods still more by speaking with you, you destroyer of
+sacred customs."
+
+Both were silent, and quiet reigned. But in a short while Elpidias was
+again the first to begin a conversation.
+
+"Why are you silent, good Socrates?"
+
+"My friend; didn't you yourself ask for silence?"
+
+"I am not proud, and I can treat men who are worse than I am
+considerately. Don't let us quarrel."
+
+"I did not quarrel with you, friend Elpidias, and did not wish to say
+anything to insult you. I am merely accustomed to get at the truth of
+things by comparisons. My situation is not clear to me. You consider
+your situation better, and I should be glad to learn why. On the other
+hand, it would not hurt you to learn the truth, whatever shape it may
+take."
+
+"Well, no more of this."
+
+"Tell me, are you afraid? I don't think that the feeling I now have
+can be called fear."
+
+"I am afraid, although I have less cause than you to be at odds with
+the gods. But don't you think that the gods, in abandoning us to
+ourselves here in this chaos, have cheated us of our hopes?"
+
+"That depends upon what sort of hopes they were. What did you expect
+from the gods, Elpidias?"
+
+"Well, well, what did I expect from the gods! What curious questions
+you ask, Socrates! If a man throughout life brings offerings, and at
+his death passes away with a pious heart and with all that custom
+demands, the gods might at least send some one to meet him, at least
+one of the inferior gods, to show a man the way. ... But that reminds
+me. Many a time when I begged for good luck in traffic in hides, I
+promised Hermes calves----"
+
+"And you didn't have luck?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I had luck, good Socrates, but----".
+
+"I understand, you had no calf."
+
+"Bah! Socrates, a rich tanner and not have calves?"
+
+"Now I understand. You had luck, had calves, but you kept them for
+yourself, and Hermes received nothing."
+
+"You're a clever man. I've often said so. I kept only three of my ten
+oaths, and I didn't deal differently with the other gods. If the same
+is the case with you, isn't that the reason, possibly, why we are now
+abandoned by the gods? To be sure, I ordered Larissa to sacrifice a
+whole hecatomb after my death."
+
+"But that is Larissa's affair, whereas it was you, friend Elpidias,
+who made the promises."
+
+"That's true, that's true. But you, good Socrates, could you, godless
+as you are, deal better with the gods than I who was a god-fearing
+tanner?"
+
+"My friend, I know not whether I dealt better or worse. At first I
+brought offerings without having made vows. Later I offered neither
+calves nor vows."
+
+"What, not a single calf, you unfortunate man?"
+
+"Yes, friend, if Hermes had had to live by my gifts, I am afraid he
+would have grown very thin."
+
+"I understand. You did not traffic in cattle, so you offered articles
+of some other trade--probably a mina or so of what the pupils paid
+you."
+
+"You know, my friend, I didn't ask pay of my pupils, and my trade
+scarcely sufficed to support me. If the gods reckoned on the sorry
+remnants of my meals they miscalculated."
+
+"Oh, blasphemer, in comparison with you I can be proud of my piety. Ye
+gods, look upon this man! I did deceive you at times, but now and then
+I shared with you the surplus of some fortunate deal. He who gives at
+all gives much in comparison with a blasphemer who gives nothing.
+Socrates, I think you had better go on alone! I fear that your
+company, godless one, damages me in the eyes of the gods."
+
+"As you will, good Elpidias. I swear by the dog no one shall force his
+company on another. Unhand the fold of my mantle, and farewell. I will
+go on alone."
+
+And Socrates walked forward with a sure tread, feeling the ground,
+however, at every step.
+
+But Elpidias behind him instantly cried out:
+
+"Wait, wait, my good fellow-citizen, do not leave an Athenian alone in
+this horrible place! I was only making fun. Take what I said as a
+joke, and don't go so quickly. I marvel how you can see a thing in
+this hellish darkness."
+
+"Friend, I have accustomed my eyes to it."
+
+"That's good. Still I, can't approve of your not having brought
+sacrifices to the gods. No, I can't, poor Socrates, I can't. The
+honourable Sophroniscus certainly taught you better in your youth, and
+you yourself used to take part in the prayers. I saw you."
+
+"Yes. But I am accustomed to examine all our motives and to accept
+only those that after investigation prove to be reasonable. And so a
+day came on which I said to myself: 'Socrates, here you are praying to
+the Olympians. Why are you praying to them?'"
+
+Elpidias laughed.
+
+"Really you philosophers sometimes don't know how to answer the
+simplest questions. I'm a plain tanner who never in my life studied
+sophistry, yet I know why I must honour the Olympians."
+
+"Tell me quickly, so that I, too, may know why."
+
+"Why? Ha! Ha! It's too simple, you wise Socrates."
+
+"So much the better if it's simple. But don't keep your wisdom from
+me. Tell me--why must one honour the gods?"
+
+"Why. Because everybody does it."
+
+"Friend, you know very well that not every one honours the gods.
+Wouldn't it be more correct to say 'many'?"
+
+"Very well, many."
+
+"But tell me, don't more men deal wickedly than righteously?"
+
+"I think so. You find more wicked people than good people."
+
+"Therefore, if you follow the majority, you ought to deal wickedly and
+not righteously?"
+
+"What are you saying?"
+
+"_I'm_ not saying it, _you_ are. But I think the reason that men
+reverence the Olympians is not because the majority worship them. We
+must find another, more rational ground. Perhaps you mean they deserve
+reverence?"
+
+"Yes, very right."
+
+"Good. But then arises a new question: Why do they deserve reverence?"
+
+"Because of their greatness."
+
+"Ah, that's more like it. Perhaps I will soon be agreeing with you. It
+only remains for you to tell me wherein their greatness consists.
+That's a difficult question, isn't it? Let us seek the answer
+together. Homer says that the impetuous Ares, when stretched flat on
+the ground by a stone thrown by Pallas Athene, covered with his body
+the space that can be travelled in seven mornings. You see what an
+enormous space."
+
+"Is that wherein greatness consists?"
+
+"There you have me, my friend. That raises another question. Do you
+remember the athlete Theophantes? He towered over the people a whole
+head's length, whereas Pericles was no larger than you. But whom do we
+call great, Pericles or Theophantes?"
+
+"I see that greatness does not consist in size of body. In that you're
+right. I am glad we agree. Perhaps greatness consists in virtue?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"I think so, too."
+
+"Well, then, who must bow to whom? The small before the large, or
+those who are great in virtues before the wicked?"
+
+"The answer is clear."
+
+"I think so, too. Now we will look further into this matter. Tell me
+truly, did you ever kill other people's children with arrows?"
+
+"It goes without saying, never! Do you think so ill of me?"
+
+"Nor have you, I trust, ever seduced the wives of other men?"
+
+"I was an upright tanner and a good husband. Don't forget that,
+Socrates, I beg of you!"
+
+"You never became a brute, nor by your lustfulness gave your faithful
+Larissa occasion to revenge herself on women whom you had ruined and
+on their innocent children?"
+
+"You anger me, really, Socrates."
+
+"But perhaps you snatched your inheritance from your father and threw
+him into prison?"
+
+"Never! Why these insulting questions?"
+
+"Wait, my friend. Perhaps we will both reach a conclusion. Tell me,
+would you have considered a man great who had done all these things of
+which I have spoken?"
+
+"No, no, no! I should have called such a man a scoundrel, and lodged
+public complaint against him with the judges in the market-place."
+
+"Well, Elpidias, why did you not complain in the market-place against
+Zeus and the Olympians? The son of Cronos carried on war with his own
+father, and was seized with brutal lust for the daughters of men,
+while Hera took vengeance upon innocent virgins. Did not both of them
+convert the unhappy daughter of Inachos into a common cow? Did not
+Apollo kill all the children of Niobe with his arrows? Did not
+Callenius steal bulls? Well, then, Elpidias, if it is true that he who
+has less virtue must do honour to him who has more, then you should
+not build altars to the Olympians, but they to you."
+
+"Blaspheme not, impious Socrates! Keep quiet! How dare you judge the
+acts of the gods?"
+
+"Friend, a higher power has judged them. Let us investigate the
+question. What is the mark of divinity? I think you said, Greatness,
+which consists in virtue. Now is not this greatness the one divine
+spark in man? But if we test the greatness of the gods by our small
+human virtues, and it turns out that that which measures is greater
+than that which is measured, then it follows that the divine principle
+itself condemns the Olympians. But, then--"
+
+"What, then?"
+
+"Then, friend Elpidias, they are no gods, but deceptive phantoms,
+creations of a dream. Is it not so?"
+
+"Ah, that's whither your talk leads, you bare-footed philosopher! Now
+I see what they said of you is true. You are like that fish that takes
+men captive with its look. So you took me captive in order to confound
+my believing soul and awaken doubt in it. It was already beginning to
+waver in its reverence for Zeus. Speak alone. I won't answer any
+more."
+
+"Be not wrathful, Elpidias! I don't wish to inflict any evil upon you.
+But if you are tired of following my arguments to their logical
+conclusions, permit me to relate to you an allegory of a Milesian
+youth. Allegories rest the mind, and the relaxation is not
+unprofitable."
+
+"Speak, if your story is not too long and its purpose is good."
+
+"Its purpose is truth, friend Elpidias, and I will be brief. Once, you
+know, in ancient times, Miletus was exposed to the attacks of the
+barbarians. Among the youth who were seized was a son of the wisest
+and best of all the citizens in the land. His precious child was
+overtaken by a severe illness and became unconscious. He was abandoned
+and allowed to lie like worthless booty. In the dead of night he came
+to his senses. High above him glimmered the stars. Round about
+stretched the desert; and in the distance he heard the howl of beasts
+of prey. He was alone.
+
+"He was entirely alone, and, besides that, the gods had taken from him
+the recollection of his former life. In vain he racked his brain--it
+was as dark and empty as the inhospitable desert in which he found
+himself. But somewhere, far away, behind the misty and obscure figures
+conjured up by his reason, loomed the thought of his lost home, and a
+vague realisation of the figure of the best of all men; and in his
+heart resounded the word 'father.' Doesn't it seem to you that the
+fate of this youth resembles the fate of all humanity?"
+
+"How so?"
+
+"Do we not all awake to life on earth with a hazy recollection of
+another home? And does not the figure of the great unknown hover
+before our souls?"
+
+"Continue, Socrates, I am listening."
+
+"The youth revived, arose, and walked cautiously, seeking to avoid all
+dangers. When after long wanderings his strength was nearly gone, he
+discerned a fire in the misty distance which illumined the darkness
+and banished the cold. A faint hope crept into his weary soul, and the
+recollections of his father's house again awoke within him. The youth
+walked toward the light, and cried: 'It is you, my father, it is you!'
+
+"And was it his father's house?"
+
+"No, it was merely a night lodging of wild nomads. So for many years
+he led the miserable life of a captive slave, and only in his dreams
+saw the distant home and rested on his father's bosom. Sometimes with
+weak hand he endeavoured to lure from dead clay or wood or stone the
+face and form that ever hovered before him. There even came moments
+when he grew weary and embraced his own handiwork and prayed to it and
+wet it with his tears. But the stone remained cold stone. And as he
+waxed in years the youth destroyed his creations, which already seemed
+to him a vile defamation of his ever-present dreams. At last fate
+brought him to a good barbarian, who asked him for the cause of his
+constant mourning. When the youth, confided to him the hopes and
+longings of his soul, the barbarian, a wise man, said:
+
+"'The world would be better did such a man and such a country exist as
+that of which you speak. But by what mark would you recognise your
+father?'
+
+"'In my country,' answered the youth, 'they reverenced wisdom and
+virtue and looked up to my father as to the master.'
+
+"'Well and good,' answered the barbarian. 'I must assume that a kernel
+of your father's teaching resides in you. Therefore take up the
+wanderer's staff, and proceed on your way. Seek perfect wisdom and
+truth, and when you have found them, cast aside your staff--there will
+be your home and your father.'
+
+"And the youth went on his way at break of day--"
+
+"Did he find the one whom he sought?"
+
+"He is still seeking. Many countries, cities and men has he seen. He
+has come to know all the ways by land; he has traversed the stormy
+seas; he has searched the courses of the stars in heaven by which a
+pilgrim can direct his course in the limitless deserts. And each time
+that on his wearisome way an inviting fire lighted up the darkness
+before his eyes, his heart beat faster and hope crept into his soul.
+'That is my father's hospitable house,' he thought.
+
+"And when a hospitable host would greet the tired traveller and offer
+him the peace and blessing of his hearth, the youth would fall at his
+feet and say with emotion: 'I thank you, my father! Do you not
+recognise your son?'
+
+"And many were prepared to take him as their son, for at that time
+children were frequently kidnapped. But after the first glow of
+enthusiasm, the youth would detect traces of imperfection, sometimes
+even of wickedness. Then he would begin to investigate and to test his
+host with questions concerning justice and injustice. And soon he
+would be driven forth again upon the cold wearisome way. More than
+once he said to himself: 'I will remain at this last hearth, I will
+preserve my last belief. It shall be the home of my father.'"
+
+"Do you know, Socrates, perhaps that would have been the most sensible
+thing to do."
+
+"So he thought sometimes. But the habit of investigating, the confused
+dream of a father, gave him no peace. Again and again he shook the
+dust from his feet; again and again he grasped his staff. Not a few
+stormy nights found him shelterless. Doesn't it seem to you that the
+fate of this youth resembles the fate of mankind?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Does not the race of man make trial of its childish belief and doubt
+it while seeking the unknown? Doesn't it fashion the form of its
+father in wood, stone, custom, and tradition? And then man finds the
+form imperfect, destroys it, and again goes on his wanderings in the
+desert of doubt. Always for the purpose of seeking something better--"
+
+"Oh, you cunning sage, now I understand the purpose of your allegory!
+And I will tell you to your face that if only a ray of light were to
+penetrate this gloom, I would not put the Lord on trial with
+unnecessary questions--"
+
+"Friend, the light is already shining," answered Socrates.
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+It seemed as if the words of the philosopher had taken effect. High up
+in the distance a beam of light penetrated a vapoury envelop and
+disappeared in the mountains. It was followed by a second and a third.
+There beyond the darkness luminous genii seemed to be hovering, and a
+great mystery seemed about to be revealed, as if the breath of life
+were blowing, as if some great ceremony were in process. But it was
+still very remote. The shades descended thicker and thicker; foggy
+clouds rolled into masses, separated, and chased one another
+endlessly, ceaselessly.
+
+A blue light from a distant peak fell upon a deep ravine; the clouds
+rose and covered the heavens to the zenith.
+
+The rays disappeared and withdrew to a greater and greater distance,
+as if fleeing from this vale of shades and horrors. Socrates stood and
+looked after them sadly. Elpidias peered up at the peak full of dread.
+
+"Look, Socrates! What do you see there on the mountain?"
+
+"Friend," answered; the philosopher, "let us investigate our
+situation. Since we are in motion, we must arrive somewhere, and since
+earthly existence must have a limit, I believe that this limit is to
+be found at the parting of two beginnings. In the struggle of light
+with darkness we attain the crown of our endeavours. Since the ability
+to think has not been taken from us, I believe that it is the will of
+the divine being who called our power of thinking into existence that
+we should investigate the goal of our endeavours ourselves. Therefore,
+Elpidias, let us in dignified manner go to meet the dawn that lies
+beyond those clouds."
+
+"Oh, my friend! If that is the dawn, I would rather the long cheerless
+night had endured forever, for it was quiet and peaceful. Don't you
+think our time passed tolerably well in instructive converse? And now
+my soul trembles before the tempest drawing nigh. Say what you will,
+but there before us are no ordinary shades of the dead night."
+
+Zeus hurled a bolt into the bottomless gulf.
+
+Ctesippus looked up to the peak, and his soul was frozen with horror.
+Huge sombre figures of the Olympian gods crowded on the mountain in a
+circle. A last ray shot through the region of clouds and mists, and
+died away like a faint memory. A storm was approaching now, and the
+powers of night were once more in the ascendant. Dark figures covered
+the heavens. In the centre Ctesippus could discern the all-powerful
+son of Cronos surrounded by a halo. The sombre figures of the older
+gods encircled him in wrathful excitement. Like flocks of birds
+winging their way in the twilight, like eddies of dust driven by a
+hurricane, like autumn leaves lashed by Boreas, numerous minor gods
+hovered in long clouds and occupied the spaces.
+
+When the clouds gradually lifted from the peak and sent down dismal
+horror to embrace the earth, Ctesippus fell upon his knees. Later, he
+admitted that in this dreadful moment he forgot all his master's
+deductions and conclusions. His courage failed him; and terror took
+possession of his soul.
+
+He merely listened.
+
+Two voices resounded there where before had been silence, the one the
+mighty and threatening voice of the Godhead, the other the weak voice
+of a mortal which the wind carried from the mountain slope to the spot
+where Ctesippus had left Socrates.
+
+"Are you," thus spake the voice from the clouds, "are you the
+blasphemous Socrates who strives with the gods of heaven and earth?
+Once there were none so joyous, so immortal, as we. Now, for long we
+have passed our days in darkness because of the unbelief and doubt
+that have come upon earth. Never has the mist closed in on us so
+heavily as since the time your voice resounded in Athens, the city we
+once so dearly loved. Why did you not follow the commands of your
+father, Sophroniscus? The good man permitted himself a few little
+sins, especially in his youth, yet by way of recompense, we frequently
+enjoyed the smell of his offerings--"
+
+"Stay, son of Cronos, and solve my doubts! Do I understand that you
+prefer cowardly hypocrisy to searchings for the truth?"
+
+At this question the crags trembled with the shock of a thundering
+peal. The first breath of the tempest scattered in the distant gorges.
+But the mountains still trembled, for he who was enthroned upon them
+still trembled. And in the anxious quiet of the night only distant
+sighs could be heard.
+
+In the very bowels of the earth the chained Titans seemed to be
+groaning under the blow of the son of Cronos.
+
+"Where are you now, you impious questioner?" suddenly came the mocking
+voice of the Olympian.
+
+"I am here, son of Cronos, on the same spot. Nothing but your answer
+can move me from it. I am waiting."
+
+Thunder bellowed in the clouds like a wild animal amazed at the daring
+of a Lybian tamer's fearless approach. At the end of a few moments the
+Voice again rolled over the spaces:
+
+"Son of Sophroniscus! Is it not enough that you bred so much
+scepticism on earth that the clouds of your doubt reached even to
+Olympus? Indeed, many a time when you were carrying on your discourse
+in the market-places or in the academies or on the promenades, it
+seemed to me as if you had already destroyed all the altars on earth,
+and the dust were rising from them up to us here on the mountain. Even
+that is not enough! Here before my very face you will not recognise
+the power of the immortals--"
+
+"Zeus, thou art wrathful. Tell me, who gave me the 'Daemon' which
+spoke to my soul throughout my life and forced me to seek the truth
+without resting?"
+
+Mysterious silence reigned in the clouds.
+
+"Was it not you? You are silent? Then I will investigate the matter.
+Either this divine beginning emanates from you or from some one else.
+If from you, I bring it to you as an offering. I offer you the ripe
+fruit of my life, the flame of the spark of your own kindling! See,
+son of Cronos, I preserved my gift; in my deepest heart grew the seed
+that you sowed. It is the very fire of my soul. It burned in those
+crises when with my own hand I tore the thread of life. Why will you
+not accept it? Would you have me regard you as a poor master whose age
+prevents him from seeing that his own pupil obediently follows out his
+commands? Who are you that would command me to stifle the flame that
+has illuminated my whole life, ever since it was penetrated by the
+first ray of sacred thought? The sun says not to the stars: 'Be
+extinguished that I may rise.' The sun rises and the weak glimmer of
+the stars is quenched by its far, far stronger light. The day says not
+to the torch: 'Be extinguished; you interfere with me.' The day
+breaks, and the torch smokes, but no longer shines. The divinity that
+I am questing is not you who are afraid of doubt. That divinity is
+like the day, like the sun, and shines without extinguishing other
+lights. The god I seek is the god who would say to me: 'Wanderer, give
+me your torch, you no longer need it, for I am the source of all
+light. Searcher for truth, set upon my altar the little gift of your
+doubt, because in me is its solution.' If you are that god, harken to
+my questions. No one kills his own child, and my doubts are a branch
+of the eternal spirit whose name is truth."
+
+Round about, the fires of heaven tore the dark clouds, and out of the
+howling storm again resounded the powerful voice:
+
+"Whither did your doubts tend, you arrogant sage, who renounce
+humility, the most beautiful adornment of earthly virtues? You
+abandoned the friendly shelter of credulous simplicity to wander in
+the desert of doubt. You have seen this dead space from which the
+living gods have departed. Will you traverse it, you insignificant
+worm, who crawl in the dust of your pitiful profanation of the gods?
+Will you vivify the world? Will you conceive the unknown divinity to
+whom you do not dare to pray? You miserable digger of dung, soiled by
+the smut of ruined altars, are you perchance the architect who shall
+build the new temple? Upon what do you base your hopes, you who
+disavow the old gods and have no new gods to take their place? The
+eternal night of doubts unsolved, the dead desert, deprived of the
+living spirit--_this_ is your world, you pitiful worm, who gnawed at
+the living belief which was a refuge for simple hearts, who converted
+the world into a dead chaos. Now, then, where are you, you
+insignificant, blasphemous sage?"
+
+Nothing was heard but the mighty storm roaring through the spaces.
+Then the thunder died away, the wind folded its pinions, and torrents
+of rain streamed through the darkness, like incessant floods of tears
+which threatened to devour the earth and drown it in a deluge of
+unquenchable grief.
+
+It seemed to Ctesippus that the master was overcome, and that the
+fearless, restless, questioning voice had been silenced forever. But a
+few moments later it issued again from the same spot.
+
+"Your words, son of Cronos, hit the mark better than your
+thunderbolts. The thoughts you have cast into my terrified soul have
+haunted me often, and it has sometimes seemed as if my heart would
+break under the burden of their unendurable anguish. Yes, I abandoned
+the friendly shelter of credulous simplicity. Yes, I have seen the
+spaces from which the living gods have departed enveloped in the night
+of eternal doubt. But I walked without fear, for my 'Daemon' lighted
+the way, the divine beginning of all life. Let us investigate the
+question. Are not offerings of incense burnt on your altars in the
+name of Him who gives life? You are stealing what belongs to another!
+Not you, but that other, is served by credulous simplicity. Yes, you
+are right, I am no architect. I am not the builder of a new temple.
+Not to me was it given to raise from the earth to the heavens the
+glorious structure of the coming faith. I am one who digs dung, soiled
+by the smut of destruction. But my conscience tells me, son of Cronos,
+that the work of one who digs dung is also necessary for the future
+temple. When the time comes for the proud and stately edifice to stand
+on the purified place, and for the living divinity of the new belief
+to erect his throne upon it, I, the modest digger of dung, will go to
+him and say: 'Here am I who restlessly crawled in the dust of
+disavowal. When surrounded by fog and soot, I had no time to raise my
+eyes from the ground; my head had only a vague conception of the
+future building. Will you reject me, you just one, Just, and True, and
+Great?'"
+
+Silence and astonishment reigned in the spaces. Then Socrates raised
+his voice, and continued:
+
+"The sunbeam falls upon the filthy puddle, and light vapour, leaving
+heavy mud behind, rises to the sun, melts, and dissolves in the ether.
+With your sunbeam you touched my dust-laden soul and it aspired to
+you, Unknown One, whose name is mystery! I sought for you, because you
+are Truth; I strove to attain to you, because you are Justice; I loved
+you, because you are Love; I died for you, because you are the Source
+of Life. Will you reject me, O Unknown? My torturing doubts, my
+passionate search for truth, my difficult life, my voluntary
+death--accept them as a bloodless offering, as a prayer, as a sigh!
+Absorb them as the immeasurable ether absorbs the evaporating mists!
+Take them, you whose name I do not know, let not the ghosts of the
+night I have traversed bar the way to you, to eternal light! Give way,
+you shades who dim the light of the dawn! I tell you, gods of my
+people, you are unjust, and where there is no justice there can be no
+truth, but only phantoms, creations of a dream. To this conclusion
+have I come, I, Socrates, who sought to fathom all things. Rise, dead
+mists, I go my way to Him whom I have sought all my life long!"
+
+The thunder burst again--a short, abrupt peal, as if the egis had
+fallen from the weakened hand of the thunderer. Storm-voices trembled
+from the mountains, sounding dully in the gorges, and died away in the
+clefts. In their place resounded other, marvellous tones.
+
+When Ctesippus looked up in astonishment, a spectacle presented itself
+such as no mortal eyes had ever seen.
+
+The night vanished. The clouds lifted, and godly figures floated in
+the azure like golden ornaments on the hem of a festive robe. Heroic
+forms glimmered over the remote crags and ravines, and Elpidias, whose
+little figure was seen standing at the edge of a cleft in the rocks,
+stretched his hands toward them, as if beseeching the vanishing gods
+for a solution of his fate.
+
+A mountain-peak now stood out clearly above the mysterious mist,
+gleaming like a torch over dark blue valleys. The son of Cronos, the
+thunderer, was no longer enthroned upon it, and the other Olympians
+too were gone.
+
+Socrates stood alone in the light of the sun under the high heavens.
+
+Ctesippus was distinctly conscious of the pulse-beat of a mysterious
+life quivering throughout nature, stirring even the tiniest blade of
+grass.
+
+A breath seemed to be stirring the balmy air, a voice to be sounding
+in wonderful harmony, an invisible tread to be heard--the tread of the
+radiant Dawn!
+
+And on the illumined peak a man still stood, stretching out his arms
+in mute ecstasy, moved by a mighty impulse.
+
+A moment, and all disappeared, and the light of an ordinary day shone
+upon the awakened soul of Ctesippus. It was like dismal twilight after
+the revelation of nature that had blown upon him the breath of an
+unknown life.
+
+       *        *        *        *        *
+
+In deep silence the pupils of the philosopher listened to the
+marvellous recital of Ctesippus. Plato broke the silence.
+
+"Let us investigate the dream and its significance," he said.
+
+"Let us investigate it," responded the others.
+
+
+
+
+THE SIGNAL
+
+
+
+BY VSEVOLOD M. GARSHIN.
+
+
+Semyon Ivanov was a track-walker. His hut was ten versts away from a
+railroad station in one direction and twelve versts away in the other.
+About four versts away there was a cotton mill that had opened the
+year before, and its tall chimney rose up darkly from behind the
+forest. The only dwellings around were the distant huts of the other
+track-walkers.
+
+Semyon Ivanov's health had been completely shattered. Nine years
+before he had served right through the war as servant to an officer.
+The sun had roasted him, the cold frozen him, and hunger famished him
+on the forced marches of forty and fifty versts a day in the heat and
+the cold and the rain and the shine. The bullets had whizzed about
+him, but, thank God! none had struck him.
+
+Semyon's regiment had once been on the firing line. For a whole week
+there had been skirmishing with the Turks, only a deep ravine
+separating the two hostile armies; and from morn till eve there had
+been a steady cross-fire. Thrice daily Semyon carried a steaming
+samovar and his officer's meals from the camp kitchen to the ravine.
+The bullets hummed about him and rattled viciously against the rocks.
+Semyon was terrified and cried sometimes, but still he kept right on.
+The officers were pleased with him, because he always had hot tea
+ready for them.
+
+He returned from the campaign with limbs unbroken but crippled with
+rheumatism. He had experienced no little sorrow since then. He arrived
+home to find that his father, an old man, and his little four-year-old
+son had died. Semyon remained alone with his wife. They could not do
+much. It was difficult to plough with rheumatic arms and legs. They
+could no longer stay in their village, so they started off to seek
+their fortune in new places. They stayed for a short time on the line,
+in Kherson and Donshchina, but nowhere found luck. Then the wife went
+out to service, and Semyon continued to travel about. Once he happened
+to ride on an engine, and at one of the stations the face of the
+station-master seemed familiar to him. Semyon looked at the
+station-master and the station-master looked at Semyon, and they
+recognised each other. He had been an officer in Semyon's regiment.
+
+"You are Ivanov?" he said.
+
+"Yes, your Excellency."
+
+"How do you come to be here?"
+
+Semyon told him all.
+
+"Where are you off to?"
+
+"I cannot tell you, sir."
+
+"Idiot! What do you mean by 'cannot tell you?'"
+
+"I mean what I say, your Excellency. There is nowhere for me to go to.
+I must hunt for work, sir."
+
+The station-master looked at him, thought a bit, and said: "See here,
+friend, stay here a while at the station. You are married, I think.
+Where is your wife?"
+
+"Yes, your Excellency, I am married. My wife is at Kursk, in service
+with a merchant."
+
+"Well, write to your wife to come here. I will give you a free pass
+for her. There is a position as track-walker open. I will speak to the
+Chief on your behalf."
+
+"I shall be very grateful to you, your Excellency," replied Semyon.
+
+He stayed at the station, helped in the kitchen, cut firewood, kept
+the yard clean, and swept the platform. In a fortnight's time his wife
+arrived, and Semyon went on a hand-trolley to his hut. The hut was a
+new one and warm, with as much wood as he wanted. There was a little
+vegetable garden, the legacy of former track-walkers, and there was
+about half a dessiatin of ploughed land on either side of the railway
+embankment. Semyon was rejoiced. He began to think of doing some
+farming, of purchasing a cow and a horse.
+
+He was given all necessary stores--a green flag, a red flag, lanterns,
+a horn, hammer, screw-wrench for the nuts, a crow-bar, spade, broom,
+bolts, and nails; they gave him two books of regulations and a
+time-table of the train. At first Semyon could not sleep at night, and
+learnt the whole time-table by heart. Two hours before a train was due
+he would go over his section, sit on the bench at his hut, and look
+and listen whether the rails were trembling or the rumble of the train
+could be heard. He even learned the regulations by heart, although he
+could only read by spelling out each word.
+
+It was summer; the work was not heavy; there was no snow to clear
+away, and the trains on that line were infrequent. Semyon used to go
+over his verst twice a day, examine and screw up nuts here and there,
+keep the bed level, look at the water-pipes, and then go home to his
+own affairs. There was only one drawback--he always had to get the
+inspector's permission for the least little thing he wanted to do.
+Semyon and his wife were even beginning to be bored.
+
+Two months passed, and Semyon commenced to make the acquaintance of
+his neighbours, the track-walkers on either side of him. One was a
+very old man, whom the authorities were always meaning to relieve. He
+scarcely moved out of his hut. His wife used to do all his work. The
+other track-walker, nearer the station, was a young man, thin, but
+muscular. He and Semyon met for the first time on the line midway
+between the huts. Semyon took off his hat and bowed. "Good health to
+you, neighbour," he said.
+
+The neighbour glanced askance at him. "How do you do?" he replied;
+then turned around and made off.
+
+Later the wives met. Semyon's wife passed the time of day with her
+neighbour, but neither did she say much.
+
+On one occasion Semyon said to her: "Young woman, your husband is not
+very talkative."
+
+The woman said nothing at first, then replied: "But what is there for
+him to talk about? Every one has his own business. Go your way, and
+God be with you."
+
+However, after another month or so they became acquainted. Semyon
+would go with Vasily along the line, sit on the edge of a pipe, smoke,
+and talk of life. Vasily, for the most part, kept silent, but Semyon
+talked of his village, and of the campaign through which he had
+passed.
+
+"I have had no little sorrow in my day," he would say; "and goodness
+knows I have not lived long. God has not given me happiness, but what
+He may give, so will it be. That's so, friend Vasily Stepanych."
+
+Vasily Stepanych knocked the ashes out of his pipe against a rail,
+stood up, and said: "It is not luck which follows us in life, but
+human beings. There is no crueller beast on this earth than man. Wolf
+does not eat wolf, but man will readily devour man."
+
+"Come, friend, don't say that; a wolf eats wolf."
+
+"The words came into my mind and I said it. All the same, there is
+nothing crueller than man. If it were not for his wickedness and
+greed, it would be possible to live. Everybody tries to sting you to
+the quick, to bite and eat you up."
+
+Semyon pondered a bit. "I don't know, brother," he said; "perhaps it
+is as you say, and perhaps it is God's will."
+
+"And perhaps," said Vasily, "it is waste of time for me to talk to
+you. To put everything unpleasant on God, and sit and suffer, means,
+brother, being not a man but an animal. That's what I have to say."
+And he turned and went off without saying good-bye.
+
+Semyon also got up. "Neighbour," he called, "why do you lose your
+temper?" But his neighbour did not look round, and kept on his way.
+
+Semyon gazed after him until he was lost to sight in the cutting at
+the turn. He went home and said to his wife: "Arina, our neighbour is
+a wicked person, not a man."
+
+However, they did not quarrel. They met again and discussed the same
+topics.
+
+"All, mend, if it were not for men we should not be poking in these
+huts," said Vasily, on one occasion.
+
+"And what if we are poking in these huts? It's not so bad. You can
+live in them."
+
+"Live in them, indeed! Bah, you!... You have lived long and learned
+little, looked at much and seen little. What sort of life is there for
+a poor man in a hut here or there? The cannibals are devouring you.
+They are sucking up all your life-blood, and when you become old, they
+will throw you out just as they do husks to feed the pigs on. What pay
+do you get?"
+
+"Not much, Vasily Stepanych--twelve rubles."
+
+"And I, thirteen and a half rubles. Why? By the regulations the
+company should give us fifteen rubles a month with firing and
+lighting. Who decides that you should have twelve rubles, or I
+thirteen and a half? Ask yourself! And you say a man can live on that?
+You understand it is not a question of one and a half rubles or three
+rubles--even if they paid us each the whole fifteen rubles. I was at
+the station last month. The director passed through. I saw him. I had
+that honour. He had a separate coach. He came out and stood on the
+platform... I shall not stay here long; I shall go somewhere,
+anywhere, follow my nose."
+
+"But where will you go, Stepanych? Leave well enough alone. Here you
+have a house, warmth, a little piece of land. Your wife is a worker."
+
+"Land! You should look at my piece of land. Not a twig on it--nothing.
+I planted some cabbages in the spring, just when the inspector came
+along. He said: 'What is this? Why have you not reported this? Why
+have you done this without permission? Dig them up, roots and all.' He
+was drunk. Another time he would not have said a word, but this time
+it struck him. Three rubles fine!..."
+
+Vasily kept silent for a while, pulling at his pipe, then added
+quietly: "A little more and I should have done for him."
+
+"You are hot-tempered."
+
+"No, I am not hot-tempered, but I tell the truth and think. Yes, he
+will still get a bloody nose from me. I will complain to the Chief. We
+will see then!" And Vasily did complain to the Chief.
+
+Once the Chief came to inspect the line. Three days later important
+personages were coming from St. Petersburg and would pass over the
+line. They were conducting an inquiry, so that previous to their
+journey it was necessary to put everything in order. Ballast was laid
+down, the bed was levelled, the sleepers carefully examined, spikes
+driven in a bit, nuts screwed up, posts painted, and orders given for
+yellow sand to be sprinkled at the level crossings. The woman at the
+neighbouring hut turned her old man out to weed. Semyon worked for a
+whole week. He put everything in order, mended his kaftan, cleaned and
+polished his brass plate until it fairly shone. Vasily also worked
+hard. The Chief arrived on a trolley, four men working the handles and
+the levers making the six wheels hum. The trolley travelled at twenty
+versts an hour, but the wheels squeaked. It reached Semyon's hut, and
+he ran out and reported in soldierly fashion. All appeared to be in
+repair.
+
+"Have you been here long?" inquired the Chief.
+
+"Since the second of May, your Excellency."
+
+"All right. Thank you. And who is at hut No. 164?"
+
+The traffic inspector (he was travelling with the Chief on the
+trolley) replied: "Vasily Spiridov."
+
+"Spiridov, Spiridov... Ah! is he the man against whom you made a note
+last year?"
+
+"He is."
+
+"Well, we will see Vasily Spiridov. Go on!" The workmen laid to the
+handles, and the trolley got under way. Semyon watched it, and
+thought, "There will be trouble between them and my neighbour."
+
+About two hours later he started on his round. He saw some one coming
+along the line from the cutting. Something white showed on his head.
+Semyon began to look more attentively. It was Vasily. He had a stick
+in his hand, a small bundle on his shoulder, and his cheek was bound
+up in a handkerchief.
+
+"Where are you off to?" cried Semyon.
+
+Vasily came quite close. He was very pale, white as chalk, and his
+eyes had a wild look. Almost choking, he muttered: "To town--to
+Moscow--to the head office."
+
+"Head office? Ah, you are going to complain, I suppose. Give it up!
+Vasily Stepanych, forget it."
+
+"No, mate, I will not forget. It is too late. See! He struck me in the
+face, drew blood. So long as I live I will not forget. I will not
+leave it like this!"
+
+Semyon took his hand. "Give it up, Stepanych. I am giving you good
+advice. You will not better things..."
+
+"Better things! I know myself I shan't better things. You were right
+about Fate. It would be better for me not to do it, but one must stand
+up for the right."
+
+"But tell me, how did it happen?"
+
+"How? He examined everything, got down from the trolley, looked into
+the hut. I knew beforehand that he would be strict, and so I had put
+everything into proper order. He was just going when I made my
+complaint. He immediately cried out: 'Here is a Government inquiry
+coming, and you make a complaint about a vegetable garden. Here are
+privy councillors coming, and you annoy me with cabbages!' I lost
+patience and said something--not very much, but it offended him, and
+he struck me in the face. I stood still; I did nothing, just as if
+what he did was perfectly all right. They went off; I came to myself,
+washed my face, and left."
+
+"And what about the hut?"
+
+"My wife is staying there. She will look after things. Never mind
+about their roads."
+
+Vasily got up and collected himself. "Good-bye, Ivanov. I do not know
+whether I shall get any one at the office to listen to me."
+
+"Surely you are not going to walk?"
+
+"At the station I will try to get on a freight train, and to-morrow I
+shall be in Moscow."
+
+The neighbours bade each other farewell. Vasily was absent for some
+time. His wife worked for him night and day. She never slept, and wore
+herself out waiting for her husband. On the third day the commission
+arrived. An engine, luggage-van, and two first-class saloons; but
+Vasily was still away. Semyon saw his wife on the fourth day. Her face
+was swollen from crying and her eyes were red.
+
+"Has your husband returned?" he asked. But the woman only made a
+gesture with her hands, and without saying a word went her way.
+
+Semyon had learnt when still a lad to make flutes out of a kind of
+reed. He used to burn out the heart of the stalk, make holes where
+necessary, drill them, fix a mouthpiece at one end, and tune them so
+well that it was possible to play almost any air on them. He made a
+number of them in his spare time, and sent them by his friends amongst
+the freight brakemen to the bazaar in the town. He got two kopeks
+apiece for them. On the day following the visit of the commission he
+left his wife at home to meet the six o'clock train, and started off
+to the forest to cut some sticks. He went to the end of his
+section--at this point the line made a sharp turn--descended the
+embankment, and struck into the wood at the foot of the mountain.
+About half a verst away there was a big marsh, around which splendid
+reeds for his flutes grew. He cut a whole bundle of stalks and started
+back home. The sun was already dropping low, and in the dead stillness
+only the twittering of the birds was audible, and the crackle of the
+dead wood under his feet. As he walked along rapidly, he fancied he
+heard the clang of iron striking iron, and he redoubled his pace.
+There was no repair going on in his section. What did it mean? He
+emerged from the woods, the railway embankment stood high before him;
+on the top a man was squatting on the bed of the line busily engaged
+in something. Semyon commenced quietly to crawl up towards him. He
+thought it was some one after the nuts which secure the rails. He
+watched, and the man got up, holding a crow-bar in his hand. He had
+loosened a rail, so that it would move to one side. A mist swam before
+Semyon's eyes; he wanted to cry out, but could not. It was Vasily!
+Semyon scrambled up the bank, as Vasily with crow-bar and wrench slid
+headlong down the other side.
+
+"Vasily Stepanych! My dear friend, come back! Give me the crow-bar. We
+will put the rail back; no one will know. Come back! Save your soul
+from sin!"
+
+Vasily did not look back, but disappeared into the woods.
+
+Semyon stood before the rail which had been torn up. He threw down his
+bundle of sticks. A train was due; not a freight, but a
+passenger-train. And he had nothing with which to stop it, no flag. He
+could not replace the rail and could not drive in the spikes with his
+bare hands. It was necessary to run, absolutely necessary to run to
+the hut for some tools. "God help me!" he murmured.
+
+Semyon started running towards his hut. He was out of breath, but
+still ran, falling every now and then. He had cleared the forest; he
+was only a few hundred feet from his hut, not more, when he heard the
+distant hooter of the factory sound--six o'clock! In two minutes' time
+No. 7 train was due. "Oh, Lord! Have pity on innocent souls!" In his
+mind Semyon saw the engine strike against the loosened rail with its
+left wheel, shiver, careen, tear up and splinter the sleepers--and
+just there, there was a curve and the embankment seventy feet high,
+down which the engine would topple--and the third-class carriages
+would be packed ... little children... All sitting in the train now,
+never dreaming of danger. "Oh, Lord! Tell me what to do!... No, it is
+impossible to run to the hut and get back in time."
+
+Semyon did not run on to the hut, but turned back and ran faster than
+before. He was running almost mechanically, blindly; he did not know
+himself what was to happen. He ran as far as the rail which had been
+pulled up; his sticks were lying in a heap. He bent down, seized one
+without knowing why, and ran on farther. It seemed to him the train
+was already coming. He heard the distant whistle; he heard the quiet,
+even tremor of the rails; but his strength was exhausted, he could run
+no farther, and came to a halt about six hundred feet from the awful
+spot. Then an idea came into his head, literally like a ray of light.
+Pulling off his cap, he took out of it a cotton scarf, drew his knife
+out of the upper part of his boot, and crossed himself, muttering,
+"God bless me!"
+
+He buried the knife in his left arm above the elbow; the blood spurted
+out, flowing in a hot stream. In this he soaked his scarf, smoothed it
+out, tied it to the stick and hung out his red flag.
+
+He stood waving his flag. The train was already in sight. The driver
+would not see him--would come close up, and a heavy train cannot be
+pulled up in six hundred feet.
+
+And the blood kept on flowing. Semyon pressed the sides of the wound
+together so as to close it, but the blood did not diminish. Evidently
+he had cut his arm very deep. His head commenced to swim, black spots
+began to dance before his eyes, and then it became dark. There was a
+ringing in his ears. He could not see the train or hear the noise.
+Only one thought possessed him. "I shall not be able to keep standing
+up. I shall fall and drop the flag; the train will pass over me. Help
+me, oh Lord!"
+
+All turned black before him, his mind became a blank, and he dropped
+the flag; but the blood-stained banner did not fall to the ground. A
+hand seized it and held it high to meet the approaching train. The
+engineer saw it, shut the regulator, and reversed steam. The train
+came to a standstill.
+
+People jumped out of the carriages and collected in a crowd. They saw
+a man lying senseless on the footway, drenched in blood, and another
+man standing beside him with a blood-stained rag on a stick.
+
+Vasily looked around at all. Then, lowering his head, he said: "Bind
+me. I tore up a rail!"
+
+
+
+
+THE DARLING
+
+
+
+BY ANTON P. CHEKOV
+
+
+Olenka, the daughter of the retired collegiate assessor Plemyanikov,
+was sitting on the back-door steps of her house doing nothing. It was
+hot, the flies were nagging and teasing, and it was pleasant to think
+that it would soon be evening. Dark rain clouds were gathering from
+the east, wafting a breath of moisture every now and then.
+
+Kukin, who roomed in the wing of the same house, was standing in the
+yard looking up at the sky. He was the manager of the Tivoli, an
+open-air theatre.
+
+"Again," he said despairingly. "Rain again. Rain, rain, rain! Every
+day rain! As though to spite me. I might as well stick my head into a
+noose and be done with it. It's ruining me. Heavy losses every day!"
+He wrung his hands, and continued, addressing Olenka: "What a life,
+Olga Semyonovna! It's enough to make a man weep. He works, he does his
+best, his very best, he tortures himself, he passes sleepless nights,
+he thinks and thinks and thinks how to do everything just right. And
+what's the result? He gives the public the best operetta, the very
+best pantomime, excellent artists. But do they want it? Have they the
+least appreciation of it? The public is rude. The public is a great
+boor. The public wants a circus, a lot of nonsense, a lot of stuff.
+And there's the weather. Look! Rain almost every evening. It began to
+rain on the tenth of May, and it's kept it up through the whole of
+June. It's simply awful. I can't get any audiences, and don't I have
+to pay rent? Don't I have to pay the actors?"
+
+The next day towards evening the clouds gathered again, and Kukin said
+with an hysterical laugh:
+
+"Oh, I don't care. Let it do its worst. Let it drown the whole
+theatre, and me, too. All right, no luck for me in this world or the
+next. Let the actors bring suit against me and drag me to court.
+What's the court? Why not Siberia at hard labour, or even the
+scaffold? Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+It was the same on the third day.
+
+Olenka listened to Kukin seriously, in silence. Sometimes tears would
+rise to her eyes. At last Kukin's misfortune touched her. She fell in
+love with him. He was short, gaunt, with a yellow face, and curly hair
+combed back from his forehead, and a thin tenor voice. His features
+puckered all up when he spoke. Despair was ever inscribed on his face.
+And yet he awakened in Olenka a sincere, deep feeling.
+
+She was always loving somebody. She couldn't get on without loving
+somebody. She had loved her sick father, who sat the whole time in his
+armchair in a darkened room, breathing heavily. She had loved her
+aunt, who came from Brianska once or twice a year to visit them. And
+before that, when a pupil at the progymnasium, she had loved her
+French teacher. She was a quiet, kind-hearted, compassionate girl,
+with a soft gentle way about her. And she made a very healthy,
+wholesome impression. Looking at her full, rosy cheeks, at her soft
+white neck with the black mole, and at the good naïve smile that
+always played on her face when something pleasant was said, the men
+would think, "Not so bad," and would smile too; and the lady visitors,
+in the middle of the conversation, would suddenly grasp her hand and
+exclaim, "You darling!" in a burst of delight.
+
+The house, hers by inheritance, in which she had lived from birth, was
+located at the outskirts of the city on the Gypsy Road, not far from
+the Tivoli. From early evening till late at night she could hear the
+music in the theatre and the bursting of the rockets; and it seemed to
+her that Kukin was roaring and battling with his fate and taking his
+chief enemy, the indifferent public, by assault. Her heart melted
+softly, she felt no desire to sleep, and when Kukin returned home
+towards morning, she tapped on her window-pane, and through the
+curtains he saw her face and one shoulder and the kind smile she gave
+him.
+
+He proposed to her, and they were married. And when he had a good look
+of her neck and her full vigorous shoulders, he clapped his hands and
+said:
+
+"You darling!"
+
+He was happy. But it rained on their wedding-day, and the expression
+of despair never left his face.
+
+They got along well together. She sat in the cashier's box, kept the
+theatre in order, wrote down the expenses, and paid out the salaries.
+Her rosy cheeks, her kind naïve smile, like a halo around her face,
+could be seen at the cashier's window, behind the scenes, and in the
+café. She began to tell her friends that the theatre was the greatest,
+the most important, the most essential thing in the world, that it was
+the only place to obtain true enjoyment in and become humanised and
+educated.
+
+"But do you suppose the public appreciates it?" she asked. "What the
+public wants is the circus. Yesterday Vanichka and I gave _Faust
+Burlesqued_, and almost all the boxes were empty. If we had given some
+silly nonsense, I assure you, the theatre would have been overcrowded.
+To-morrow we'll put _Orpheus in Hades_ on. Do come."
+
+Whatever Kukin said about the theatre and the actors, she repeated.
+She spoke, as he did, with contempt of the public, of its indifference
+to art, of its boorishness. She meddled in the rehearsals, corrected
+the actors, watched the conduct of the musicians; and when an
+unfavourable criticism appeared in the local paper, she wept and went
+to the editor to argue with him.
+
+The actors were fond of her and called her "Vanichka and I" and "the
+darling." She was sorry for them and lent them small sums. When they
+bilked her, she never complained to her husband; at the utmost she
+shed a few tears.
+
+In winter, too, they got along nicely together. They leased a theatre
+in the town for the whole winter and sublet it for short periods to a
+Little Russian theatrical company, to a conjuror and to the local
+amateur players.
+
+Olenka grew fuller and was always beaming with contentment; while
+Kukin grew thinner and yellower and complained of his terrible losses,
+though he did fairly well the whole winter. At night he coughed, and
+she gave him raspberry syrup and lime water, rubbed him with eau de
+Cologne, and wrapped him up in soft coverings.
+
+"You are my precious sweet," she said with perfect sincerity, stroking
+his hair. "You are such a dear."
+
+At Lent he went to Moscow to get his company together, and, while
+without him, Olenka was unable to sleep. She sat at the window the
+whole time, gazing at the stars. She likened herself to the hens that
+are also uneasy and unable to sleep when their rooster is out of the
+coop. Kukin was detained in Moscow. He wrote he would be back during
+Easter Week, and in his letters discussed arrangements already for the
+Tivoli. But late one night, before Easter Monday, there was an
+ill-omened knocking at the wicket-gate. It was like a knocking on a
+barrel--boom, boom, boom! The sleepy cook ran barefooted, plashing
+through the puddles, to open the gate.
+
+"Open the gate, please," said some one in a hollow bass voice. "I have
+a telegram for you."
+
+Olenka had received telegrams from her husband before; but this time,
+somehow, she was numbed with terror. She opened the telegram with
+trembling hands and read:
+
+"Ivan Petrovich died suddenly to-day. Awaiting propt orders for
+wuneral Tuesday."
+
+That was the way the telegram was written--"wuneral"--and another
+unintelligible word--"propt." The telegram was signed by the manager
+of the opera company.
+
+"My dearest!" Olenka burst out sobbing. "Vanichka, my dearest, my
+sweetheart. Why did I ever meet you? Why did I ever get to know you
+and love you? To whom have you abandoned your poor Olenka, your poor,
+unhappy Olenka?"
+
+Kukin was buried on Tuesday in the Vagankov Cemetery in Moscow. Olenka
+returned home on Wednesday; and as soon as she entered her house she
+threw herself on her bed and broke into such loud sobbing that she
+could be heard in the street and in the neighbouring yards.
+
+"The darling!" said the neighbours, crossing themselves. "How Olga
+Semyonovna, the poor darling, is grieving!"
+
+Three months afterwards Olenka was returning home from mass,
+downhearted and in deep mourning. Beside her walked a man also
+returning from church, Vasily Pustovalov, the manager of the merchant
+Babakayev's lumber-yard. He was wearing a straw hat, a white vest with
+a gold chain, and looked more like a landowner than a business man.
+
+"Everything has its ordained course, Olga Semyonovna," he said
+sedately, with sympathy in his voice. "And if any one near and dear to
+us dies, then it means it was God's will and we should remember that
+and bear it with submission."
+
+He took her to the wicket-gate, said good-bye and went away. After
+that she heard his sedate voice the whole day; and on closing her eyes
+she instantly had a vision of his dark beard. She took a great liking
+to him. And evidently he had been impressed by her, too; for, not long
+after, an elderly woman, a distant acquaintance, came in to have a cup
+of coffee with her. As soon as the woman was seated at table she began
+to speak about Pustovalov--how good he was, what a steady man, and any
+woman could be glad to get him as a husband. Three days later
+Pustovalov himself paid Olenka a visit. He stayed only about ten
+minutes, and spoke little, but Olenka fell in love with him, fell in
+love so desperately that she did not sleep the whole night and burned
+as with fever. In the morning she sent for the elderly woman. Soon
+after, Olenka and Pustovalov were engaged, and the wedding followed.
+
+Pustovalov and Olenka lived happily together. He usually stayed in the
+lumber-yard until dinner, then went out on business. In his absence
+Olenka took his place in the office until evening, attending to the
+book-keeping and despatching the orders.
+
+"Lumber rises twenty per cent every year nowadays," she told her
+customers and acquaintances. "Imagine, we used to buy wood from our
+forests here. Now Vasichka has to go every year to the government of
+Mogilev to get wood. And what a tax!" she exclaimed, covering her
+cheeks with her hands in terror. "What a tax!"
+
+She felt as if she had been dealing in lumber for ever so long, that
+the most important and essential thing in life was lumber. There was
+something touching and endearing in the way she pronounced the words,
+"beam," "joist," "plank," "stave," "lath," "gun-carriage," "clamp." At
+night she dreamed of whole mountains of boards and planks, long,
+endless rows of wagons conveying the wood somewhere, far, far from the
+city. She dreamed that a whole regiment of beams, 36 ft. x 5 in., were
+advancing in an upright position to do battle against the lumber-yard;
+that the beams and joists and clamps were knocking against each other,
+emitting the sharp crackling reports of dry wood, that they were all
+falling and then rising again, piling on top of each other. Olenka
+cried out in her sleep, and Pustovalov said to her gently:
+
+"Olenka my dear, what is the matter? Cross yourself."
+
+Her husband's opinions were all hers. If he thought the room was too
+hot, she thought so too. If he thought business was dull, she thought
+business was dull. Pustovalov was not fond of amusements and stayed
+home on holidays; she did the same.
+
+"You are always either at home or in the office," said her friends.
+"Why don't you go to the theatre or to the circus, darling?"
+
+"Vasichka and I never go to the theatre," she answered sedately. "We
+have work to do, we have no time for nonsense. What does one get out
+of going to theatre?"
+
+On Saturdays she and Pustovalov went to vespers, and on holidays to
+early mass. On returning home they walked side by side with rapt
+faces, an agreeable smell emanating from both of them and her silk
+dress rustling pleasantly. At home they drank tea with milk-bread and
+various jams, and then ate pie. Every day at noontime there was an
+appetising odour in the yard and outside the gate of cabbage soup,
+roast mutton, or duck; and, on fast days, of fish. You couldn't pass
+the gate without being seized by an acute desire to eat. The samovar
+was always boiling on the office table, and customers were treated to
+tea and biscuits. Once a week the married couple went to the baths and
+returned with red faces, walking side by side.
+
+"We are getting along very well, thank God," said Olenka to her
+friends. "God grant that all should live as well as Vasichka and I."
+
+When Pustovalov went to the government of Mogilev to buy wood, she was
+dreadfully homesick for him, did not sleep nights, and cried.
+Sometimes the veterinary surgeon of the regiment, Smirnov, a young man
+who lodged in the wing of her house, came to see her evenings. He
+related incidents, or they played cards together. This distracted her.
+The most interesting of his stories were those of his own life. He was
+married and had a son; but he had separated from his wife because she
+had deceived him, and now he hated her and sent her forty rubles a
+month for his son's support. Olenka sighed, shook her head, and was
+sorry for him.
+
+"Well, the Lord keep you," she said, as she saw him off to the door by
+candlelight. "Thank you for coming to kill time with me. May God give
+you health. Mother in Heaven!" She spoke very sedately, very
+judiciously, imitating her husband. The veterinary surgeon had
+disappeared behind the door when she called out after him: "Do you
+know, Vladimir Platonych, you ought to make up with your wife. Forgive
+her, if only for the sake of your son. The child understands
+everything, you may be sure."
+
+When Pustovalov returned, she told him in a low voice about the
+veterinary surgeon and his unhappy family life; and they sighed and
+shook their heads, and talked about the boy who must be homesick for
+his father. Then, by a strange association of ideas, they both stopped
+before the sacred images, made genuflections, and prayed to God to
+send them children.
+
+And so the Pustovalovs lived for full six years, quietly and
+peaceably, in perfect love and harmony. But once in the winter Vasily
+Andreyich, after drinking some hot tea, went out into the lumber-yard
+without a hat on his head, caught a cold and took sick. He was treated
+by the best physicians, but the malady progressed, and he died after
+an illness of four months. Olenka was again left a widow.
+
+"To whom have you left me, my darling?" she wailed after the funeral.
+"How shall I live now without you, wretched creature that I am. Pity
+me, good people, pity me, fatherless and motherless, all alone in the
+world!"
+
+She went about dressed in black and weepers, and she gave up wearing
+hats and gloves for good. She hardly left the house except to go to
+church and to visit her husband's grave. She almost led the life of a
+nun.
+
+It was not until six months had passed that she took off the weepers
+and opened her shutters. She began to go out occasionally in the
+morning to market with her cook. But how she lived at home and what
+went on there, could only be surmised. It could be surmised from the
+fact that she was seen in her little garden drinking tea with the
+veterinarian while he read the paper out loud to her, and also from
+the fact that once on meeting an acquaintance at the post-office, she
+said to her:
+
+"There is no proper veterinary inspection in our town. That is why
+there is so much disease. You constantly hear of people getting sick
+from the milk and becoming infected by the horses and cows. The health
+of domestic animals ought really to be looked after as much as that of
+human beings."
+
+She repeated the veterinarian's words and held the same opinions as he
+about everything. It was plain that she could not exist a single year
+without an attachment, and she found her new happiness in the wing of
+her house. In any one else this would have been condemned; but no one
+could think ill of Olenka. Everything in her life was so transparent.
+She and the veterinary surgeon never spoke about the change in their
+relations. They tried, in fact, to conceal it, but unsuccessfully; for
+Olenka could have no secrets. When the surgeon's colleagues from the
+regiment came to see him, she poured tea, and served the supper, and
+talked to them about the cattle plague, the foot and mouth disease,
+and the municipal slaughter houses. The surgeon was dreadfully
+embarrassed, and after the visitors had left, he caught her hand and
+hissed angrily:
+
+"Didn't I ask you not to talk about what you don't understand? When we
+doctors discuss things, please don't mix in. It's getting to be a
+nuisance."
+
+She looked at him in astonishment and alarm, and asked:
+
+"But, Volodichka, what _am_ I to talk about?"
+
+And she threw her arms round his neck, with tears in her eyes, and
+begged him not to be angry. And they were both happy.
+
+But their happiness was of short duration. The veterinary surgeon went
+away with his regiment to be gone for good, when it was transferred to
+some distant place almost as far as Siberia, and Olenka was left
+alone.
+
+Now she was completely alone. Her father had long been dead, and his
+armchair lay in the attic covered with dust and minus one leg. She got
+thin and homely, and the people who met her on the street no longer
+looked at her as they had used to, nor smiled at her. Evidently her
+best years were over, past and gone, and a new, dubious life was to
+begin which it were better not to think about.
+
+In the evening Olenka sat on the steps and heard the music playing and
+the rockets bursting in the Tivoli; but it no longer aroused any
+response in her. She looked listlessly into the yard, thought of
+nothing, wanted nothing, and when night came on, she went to bed and
+dreamed of nothing but the empty yard. She ate and drank as though by
+compulsion.
+
+And what was worst of all, she no longer held any opinions. She saw
+and understood everything that went on around her, but she could not
+form an opinion about it. She knew of nothing to talk about. And how
+dreadful not to have opinions! For instance, you see a bottle, or you
+see that it is raining, or you see a muzhik riding by in a wagon. But
+what the bottle or the rain or the muzhik are for, or what the sense
+of them all is, you cannot tell--you cannot tell, not for a thousand
+rubles. In the days of Kukin and Pustovalov and then of the veterinary
+surgeon, Olenka had had an explanation for everything, and would have
+given her opinion freely no matter about what. But now there was the
+same emptiness in her heart and brain as in her yard. It was as
+galling and bitter as a taste of wormwood.
+
+Gradually the town grew up all around. The Gypsy Road had become a
+street, and where the Tivoli and the lumber-yard had been, there were
+now houses and a row of side streets. How quickly time flies! Olenka's
+house turned gloomy, the roof rusty, the shed slanting. Dock and
+thistles overgrew the yard. Olenka herself had aged and grown homely.
+In the summer she sat on the steps, and her soul was empty and dreary
+and bitter. When she caught the breath of spring, or when the wind
+wafted the chime of the cathedral bells, a sudden flood of memories
+would pour over her, her heart would expand with a tender warmth, and
+the tears would stream down her cheeks. But that lasted only a moment.
+Then would come emptiness again, and the feeling, What is the use of
+living? The black kitten Bryska rubbed up against her and purred
+softly, but the little creature's caresses left Olenka untouched. That
+was not what she needed. What she needed was a love that would absorb
+her whole being, her reason, her whole soul, that would give her
+ideas, an object in life, that would warm her aging blood. And she
+shook the black kitten off her skirt angrily, saying:
+
+"Go away! What are you doing here?"
+
+And so day after day, year after year not a single joy, not a single
+opinion. Whatever Marva, the cook, said was all right.
+
+One hot day in July, towards evening, as the town cattle were being
+driven by, and the whole yard was filled with clouds of dust, there
+was suddenly a knocking at the gate. Olenka herself went to open it,
+and was dumbfounded to behold the veterinarian Smirnov. He had turned
+grey and was dressed as a civilian. All the old memories flooded into
+her soul, she could not restrain herself, she burst out crying, and
+laid her head on Smirnov's breast without saying a word. So overcome
+was she that she was totally unconscious of how they walked into the
+house and seated themselves to drink tea.
+
+"My darling!" she murmured, trembling with joy. "Vladimir Platonych,
+from where has God sent you?"
+
+"I want to settle here for good," he told her. "I have resigned my
+position and have come here to try my fortune as a free man and lead a
+settled life. Besides, it's time to send my boy to the gymnasium. He
+is grown up now. You know, my wife and I have become reconciled."
+
+"Where is she?" asked Olenka.
+
+"At the hotel with the boy. I am looking for lodgings."
+
+"Good gracious, bless you, take my house. Why won't my house do? Oh,
+dear! Why, I won't ask any rent of you," Olenka burst out in the
+greatest excitement, and began to cry again. "You live here, and the
+wing will be enough for me. Oh, Heavens, what a joy!"
+
+The very next day the roof was being painted and the walls
+whitewashed, and Olenka, arms akimbo, was going about the yard
+superintending. Her face brightened with her old smile. Her whole
+being revived and freshened, as though she had awakened from a long
+sleep. The veterinarian's wife and child arrived. She was a thin,
+plain woman, with a crabbed expression. The boy Sasha, small for his
+ten years of age, was a chubby child, with clear blue eyes and dimples
+in his cheeks. He made for the kitten the instant he entered the yard,
+and the place rang with his happy laughter.
+
+"Is that your cat, auntie?" he asked Olenka. "When she has little
+kitties, please give me one. Mamma is awfully afraid of mice."
+
+Olenka chatted with him, gave him tea, and there was a sudden warmth
+in her bosom and a soft gripping at her heart, as though the boy were
+her own son.
+
+In the evening, when he sat in the dining-room studying his lessons,
+she looked at him tenderly and whispered to herself:
+
+"My darling, my pretty. You are such a clever child, so good to look
+at."
+
+"An island is a tract of land entirely surrounded by water," he
+recited.
+
+"An island is a tract of land," she repeated--the first idea
+asseverated with conviction after so many years of silence and mental
+emptiness.
+
+She now had her opinions, and at supper discussed with Sasha's parents
+how difficult the studies had become for the children at the
+gymnasium, but how, after all, a classical education was better than a
+commercial course, because when you graduated from the gymnasium then
+the road was open to you for any career at all. If you chose to, you
+could become a doctor, or, if you wanted to, you could become an
+engineer.
+
+Sasha began to go to the gymnasium. His mother left on a visit to her
+sister in Kharkov and never came back. The father was away every day
+inspecting cattle, and sometimes was gone three whole days at a time,
+so that Sasha, it seemed to Olenka, was utterly abandoned, was treated
+as if he were quite superfluous, and must be dying of hunger. So she
+transferred him into the wing along with herself and fixed up a little
+room for him there.
+
+Every morning Olenka would come into his room and find him sound
+asleep with his hand tucked under his cheek, so quiet that he seemed
+not to be breathing. What a shame to have to wake him, she thought.
+
+"Sashenka," she said sorrowingly, "get up, darling. It's time to go to
+the gymnasium."
+
+He got up, dressed, said his prayers, then sat down to drink tea. He
+drank three glasses of tea, ate two large cracknels and half a
+buttered roll. The sleep was not yet out of him, so he was a little
+cross.
+
+"You don't know your fable as you should, Sashenka," said Olenka,
+looking at him as though he were departing on a long journey. "What a
+lot of trouble you are. You must try hard and learn, dear, and mind
+your teachers."
+
+"Oh, let me alone, please," said Sasha.
+
+Then he went down the street to the gymnasium, a little fellow wearing
+a large cap and carrying a satchel on his back. Olenka followed him
+noiselessly.
+
+"Sashenka," she called.
+
+He looked round and she shoved a date or a caramel into his hand. When
+he reached the street of the gymnasium, he turned around and said,
+ashamed of being followed by a tall, stout woman:
+
+"You had better go home, aunt. I can go the rest of the way myself."
+
+She stopped and stared after him until he had disappeared into the
+school entrance.
+
+Oh, how she loved him! Not one of her other ties had been so deep.
+Never before had she given herself so completely, so disinterestedly,
+so cheerfully as now that her maternal instincts were all aroused. For
+this boy, who was not hers, for the dimples in his cheeks and for his
+big cap, she would have given her life, given it with joy and with
+tears of rapture. Why? Ah, indeed, why?
+
+When she had seen Sasha off to the gymnasium, she returned home
+quietly, content, serene, overflowing with love. Her face, which had
+grown younger in the last half year, smiled and beamed. People who met
+her were pleased as they looked at her.
+
+"How are you, Olga Semyonovna, darling? How are you getting on,
+darling?"
+
+"The gymnasium course is very hard nowadays," she told at the market.
+"It's no joke. Yesterday the first class had a fable to learn by
+heart, a Latin translation, and a problem. How is a little fellow to
+do all that?"
+
+And she spoke of the teacher and the lessons and the text-books,
+repeating exactly what Sasha said about them.
+
+At three o'clock they had dinner. In the evening they prepared the
+lessons together, and Olenka wept with Sasha over the difficulties.
+When she put him to bed, she lingered a long time making the sign of
+the cross over him and muttering a prayer. And when she lay in bed,
+she dreamed of the far-away, misty future when Sasha would finish his
+studies and become a doctor or an engineer, have a large house of his
+own, with horses and a carriage, marry and have children. She would
+fall asleep still thinking of the same things, and tears would roll
+down her cheeks from her closed eyes. And the black cat would lie at
+her side purring: "Mrr, mrr, mrr."
+
+Suddenly there was a loud knocking at the gate. Olenka woke up
+breathless with fright, her heart beating violently. Half a minute
+later there was another knock.
+
+"A telegram from Kharkov," she thought, her whole body in a tremble.
+"His mother wants Sasha to come to her in Kharkov. Oh, great God!"
+
+She was in despair. Her head, her feet, her hands turned cold. There
+was no unhappier creature in the world, she felt. But another minute
+passed, she heard voices. It was the veterinarian coming home from the
+club.
+
+"Thank God," she thought. The load gradually fell from her heart, she
+was at ease again. And she went back to bed, thinking of Sasha who lay
+fast asleep in the next room and sometimes cried out in his sleep:
+
+"I'll give it to you! Get away! Quit your scrapping!"
+
+
+
+
+THE BET
+
+
+
+BY ANTON P. CHEKHOV
+
+
+I
+
+
+It was a dark autumn night. The old banker was pacing from corner to
+corner of his study, recalling to his mind the party he gave in the
+autumn fifteen years before. There were many clever people at the
+party and much interesting conversation. They talked among other
+things of capital punishment. The guests, among them not a few
+scholars and journalists, for the most part disapproved of capital
+punishment. They found it obsolete as a means of punishment, unfitted
+to a Christian State and immoral. Some of them thought that capital
+punishment should be replaced universally by life-imprisonment.
+
+"I don't agree with you," said the host. "I myself have experienced
+neither capital punishment nor life-imprisonment, but if one may judge
+_a priori_, then in my opinion capital punishment is more moral and
+more humane than imprisonment. Execution kills instantly,
+life-imprisonment kills by degrees. Who is the more humane
+executioner, one who kills you in a few seconds or one who draws the
+life out of you incessantly, for years?"
+
+"They're both equally immoral," remarked one of the guests, "because
+their purpose is the same, to take away life. The State is not God. It
+has no right to take away that which it cannot give back, if it should
+so desire."
+
+Among the company was a lawyer, a young man of about twenty-five. On
+being asked his opinion, he said:
+
+"Capital punishment and life-imprisonment are equally immoral; but if
+I were offered the choice between them, I would certainly choose the
+second. It's better to live somehow than not to live at all."
+
+There ensued a lively discussion. The banker who was then younger and
+more nervous suddenly lost his temper, banged his fist on the table,
+and turning to the young lawyer, cried out:
+
+"It's a lie. I bet you two millions you wouldn't stick in a cell even
+for five years."
+
+"If you mean it seriously," replied the lawyer, "then I bet I'll stay
+not five but fifteen."
+
+"Fifteen! Done!" cried the banker. "Gentlemen, I stake two millions."
+
+"Agreed. You stake two millions, I my freedom," said the lawyer.
+
+So this wild, ridiculous bet came to pass. The banker, who at that
+time had too many millions to count, spoiled and capricious, was
+beside himself with rapture. During supper he said to the lawyer
+jokingly:
+
+"Come to your senses, young roan, before it's too late. Two millions
+are nothing to me, but you stand to lose three or four of the best
+years of your life. I say three or four, because you'll never stick it
+out any longer. Don't forget either, you unhappy man, that voluntary
+is much heavier than enforced imprisonment. The idea that you have the
+right to free yourself at any moment will poison the whole of your
+life in the cell. I pity you."
+
+And now the banker, pacing from corner to corner, recalled all this
+and asked himself:
+
+"Why did I make this bet? What's the good? The lawyer loses fifteen
+years of his life and I throw away two millions. Will it convince
+people that capital punishment is worse or better than imprisonment
+for life? No, no! all stuff and rubbish. On my part, it was the
+caprice of a well-fed man; on the lawyer's pure greed of gold."
+
+He recollected further what happened after the evening party. It was
+decided that the lawyer must undergo his imprisonment under the
+strictest observation, in a garden wing of the banker's house. It was
+agreed that during the period he would be deprived of the right to
+cross the threshold, to see living people, to hear human voices, and
+to receive letters and newspapers. He was permitted to have a musical
+instrument, to read books, to write letters, to drink wine and smoke
+tobacco. By the agreement he could communicate, but only in silence,
+with the outside world through a little window specially constructed
+for this purpose. Everything necessary, books, music, wine, he could
+receive in any quantity by sending a note through the window. The
+agreement provided for all the minutest details, which made the
+confinement strictly solitary, and it obliged the lawyer to remain
+exactly fifteen years from twelve o'clock of November 14th, 1870, to
+twelve o'clock of November 14th, 1885. The least attempt on his part
+to violate the conditions, to escape if only for two minutes before
+the time freed the banker from the obligation to pay him the two
+millions.
+
+During the first year of imprisonment, the lawyer, as far as it was
+possible to judge from his short notes, suffered terribly from
+loneliness and boredom. From his wing day and night came the sound of
+the piano. He rejected wine and tobacco. "Wine," he wrote, "excites
+desires, and desires are the chief foes of a prisoner; besides,
+nothing is more boring than to drink good wine alone," and tobacco
+spoils the air in his room. During the first year the lawyer was sent
+books of a light character; novels with a complicated love interest,
+stories of crime and fantasy, comedies, and so on.
+
+In the second year the piano was heard no longer and the lawyer asked
+only for classics. In the fifth year, music was heard again, and the
+prisoner asked for wine. Those who watched him said that during the
+whole of that year he was only eating, drinking, and lying on his bed.
+He yawned often and talked angrily to himself. Books he did not read.
+Sometimes at nights he would sit down to write. He would write for a
+long time and tear it all up in the morning. More than once he was
+heard to weep.
+
+In the second half of the sixth year, the prisoner began zealously to
+study languages, philosophy, and history. He fell on these subjects so
+hungrily that the banker hardly had time to get books enough for him.
+In the space of four years about six hundred volumes were bought at
+his request. It was while that passion lasted that the banker received
+the following letter from the prisoner: "My dear gaoler, I am writing
+these lines in six languages. Show them to experts. Let them read
+them. If they do not find one single mistake, I beg you to give orders
+to have a gun fired off in the garden. By the noise I shall know that
+my efforts have not been in vain. The geniuses of all ages and
+countries speak in different languages; but in them all burns the same
+flame. Oh, if you knew my heavenly happiness now that I can understand
+them!" The prisoner's desire was fulfilled. Two shots were fired in
+the garden by the banker's order.
+
+Later on, after the tenth year, the lawyer sat immovable before his
+table and read only the New Testament. The banker found it strange
+that a man who in four years had mastered six hundred erudite volumes,
+should have spent nearly a year in reading one book, easy to
+understand and by no means thick. The New Testament was then replaced
+by the history of religions and theology.
+
+During the last two years of his confinement the prisoner read an
+extraordinary amount, quite haphazard. Now he would apply himself to
+the natural sciences, then he would read Byron or Shakespeare. Notes
+used to come from him in which he asked to be sent at the same time a
+book on chemistry, a text-book of medicine, a novel, and some treatise
+on philosophy or theology. He read as though he were swimming in the
+sea among broken pieces of wreckage, and in his desire to save his
+life was eagerly grasping one piece after another.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The banker recalled all this, and thought:
+
+"To-morrow at twelve o'clock he receives his freedom. Under the
+agreement, I shall have to pay him two millions. If I pay, it's all
+over with me. I am ruined for ever ..."
+
+Fifteen years before he had too many millions to count, but now he was
+afraid to ask himself which he had more of, money or debts. Gambling
+on the Stock-Exchange, risky speculation, and the recklessness of
+which he could not rid himself even in old age, had gradually brought
+his business to decay; and the fearless, self-confident, proud man of
+business had become an ordinary banker, trembling at every rise and
+fall in the market.
+
+"That cursed bet," murmured the old man clutching his head in
+despair... "Why didn't the man die? He's only forty years old. He will
+take away my last farthing, marry, enjoy life, gamble on the Exchange,
+and I will look on like an envious beggar and hear the same words from
+him every day: 'I'm obliged to you for the happiness of my life. Let
+me help you.' No, it's too much! The only escape from bankruptcy and
+disgrace--is that the man should die."
+
+The clock had just struck three. The banker was listening. In the
+house every one was asleep, and one could hear only the frozen trees
+whining outside the windows. Trying to make no sound, he took out of
+his safe the key of the door which had not been opened for fifteen
+years, put on his overcoat, and went out of the house. The garden was
+dark and cold. It was raining. A damp, penetrating wind howled in the
+garden and gave the trees no rest. Though he strained his eyes, the
+banker could see neither the ground, nor the white statues, nor the
+garden wing, nor the trees. Approaching the garden wing, he called the
+watchman twice. There was no answer. Evidently the watchman had taken
+shelter from the bad weather and was now asleep somewhere in the
+kitchen or the greenhouse.
+
+"If I have the courage to fulfil my intention," thought the old man,
+"the suspicion will fall on the watchman first of all."
+
+In the darkness he groped for the steps and the door and entered the
+hall of the garden-wing, then poked his way into a narrow passage and
+struck a match. Not a soul was there. Some one's bed, with no
+bedclothes on it, stood there, and an iron stove loomed dark in the
+corner. The seals on the door that led into the prisoner's room were
+unbroken.
+
+When the match went out, the old man, trembling from agitation, peeped
+into the little window.
+
+In the prisoner's room a candle was burning dimly. The prisoner
+himself sat by the table. Only his back, the hair on his head and his
+hands were visible. Open books were strewn about on the table, the two
+chairs, and on the carpet near the table.
+
+Five minutes passed and the prisoner never once stirred. Fifteen
+years' confinement had taught him to sit motionless. The banker tapped
+on the window with his finger, but the prisoner made no movement in
+reply. Then the banker cautiously tore the seals from the door and put
+the key into the lock. The rusty lock gave a hoarse groan and the door
+creaked. The banker expected instantly to hear a cry of surprise and
+the sound of steps. Three minutes passed and it was as quiet inside as
+it had been before. He made up his mind to enter.
+
+Before the table sat a man, unlike an ordinary human being. It was a
+skeleton, with tight-drawn skin, with long curly hair like a woman's,
+and a shaggy beard. The colour of his face was yellow, of an earthy
+shade; the cheeks were sunken, the back long and narrow, and the hand
+upon which he leaned his hairy head was so lean and skinny that it was
+painful to look upon. His hair was already silvering with grey, and no
+one who glanced at the senile emaciation of the face would have
+believed that he was only forty years old. On the table, before his
+bended head, lay a sheet of paper on which something was written in a
+tiny hand.
+
+"Poor devil," thought the banker, "he's asleep and probably seeing
+millions in his dreams. I have only to take and throw this half-dead
+thing on the bed, smother him a moment with the pillow, and the most
+careful examination will find no trace of unnatural death. But, first,
+let us read what he has written here."
+
+The banker took the sheet from the table and read:
+
+"To-morrow at twelve o'clock midnight, I shall obtain my freedom and
+the right to mix with people. But before I leave this room and see the
+sun I think it necessary to say a few words to you. On my own clear
+conscience and before God who sees me I declare to you that I despise
+freedom, life, health, and all that your books call the blessings of
+the world.
+
+"For fifteen years I have diligently studied earthly life. True, I saw
+neither the earth nor the people, but in your books I drank fragrant
+wine, sang songs, hunted deer and wild boar in the forests, loved
+women... And beautiful women, like clouds ethereal, created by the
+magic of your poets' genius, visited me by night and whispered to me
+wonderful tales, which made my head drunken. In your books I climbed
+the summits of Elbruz and Mont Blanc and saw from there how the sun
+rose in the morning, and in the evening suffused the sky, the ocean
+and the mountain ridges with a purple gold. I saw from there how above
+me lightnings glimmered cleaving the clouds; I saw green forests,
+fields, rivers, lakes, cities; I heard syrens singing, and the playing
+of the pipes of Pan; I touched the wings of beautiful devils who came
+flying to me to speak of God... In your books I cast myself into
+bottomless abysses, worked miracles, burned cities to the ground,
+preached new religions, conquered whole countries...
+
+"Your books gave me wisdom. All that unwearying human thought created
+in the centuries is compressed to a little lump in my skull. I know
+that I am cleverer than you all.
+
+"And I despise your books, despise all worldly blessings and wisdom.
+Everything is void, frail, visionary and delusive as a mirage. Though
+you be proud and wise and beautiful, yet will death wipe you from the
+face of the earth like the mice underground; and your posterity, your
+history, and the immortality of your men of genius will be as frozen
+slag, burnt down together with the terrestrial globe.
+
+"You are mad, and gone the wrong way. You take falsehood for truth and
+ugliness for beauty. You would marvel if suddenly apple and orange
+trees should bear frogs and lizards instead of fruit, and if roses
+should begin to breathe the odour of a sweating horse. So do I marvel
+at you, who have bartered heaven for earth. I do not want to
+understand you.
+
+"That I may show you in deed my contempt for that by which you live, I
+waive the two millions of which I once dreamed as of paradise, and
+which I now despise. That I may deprive myself of my right to them, I
+shall come out from here five minutes before the stipulated term, and
+thus shall violate the agreement."
+
+When he had read, the banker put the sheet on the table, kissed the
+head of the strange man, and began to weep. He went out of the wing.
+Never at any other time, not even after his terrible losses on the
+Exchange, had he felt such contempt for himself as now. Coming home,
+he lay down on his bed, but agitation and tears kept him a long time
+from sleeping...
+
+The next morning the poor watchman came running to him and told him
+that they had seen the man who lived in the wing climb through the
+window into the garden. He had gone to the gate and disappeared. The
+banker instantly went with his servants to the wing and established
+the escape of his prisoner. To avoid unnecessary rumours he took the
+paper with the renunciation from the table and, on his return, locked
+it in his safe.
+
+
+
+
+VANKA
+
+
+
+BY ANTON P. CHEKHOV
+
+
+Nine-year-old Vanka Zhukov, who had been apprentice to the shoemaker
+Aliakhin for three months, did not go to bed the night before
+Christmas. He waited till the master and mistress and the assistants
+had gone out to an early church-service, to procure from his
+employer's cupboard a small phial of ink and a penholder with a rusty
+nib; then, spreading a crumpled sheet of paper in front of him, he
+began to write.
+
+Before, however, deciding to make the first letter, he looked
+furtively at the door and at the window, glanced several times at the
+sombre ikon, on either side of which stretched shelves full of lasts,
+and heaved a heart-rending sigh. The sheet of paper was spread on a
+bench, and he himself was on his knees in front of it.
+
+"Dear Grandfather Konstantin Makarych," he wrote, "I am writing you a
+letter. I wish you a Happy Christmas and all God's holy best. I have
+no mamma or papa, you are all I have."
+
+Vanka gave a look towards the window in which shone the reflection of
+his candle, and vividly pictured to himself his grandfather,
+Konstantin Makarych, who was night-watchman at Messrs. Zhivarev. He
+was a small, lean, unusually lively and active old man of sixty-five,
+always smiling and blear-eyed. All day he slept in the servants'
+kitchen or trifled with the cooks. At night, enveloped in an ample
+sheep-skin coat, he strayed round the domain tapping with his cudgel.
+Behind him, each hanging its head, walked the old bitch Kashtanka, and
+the dog Viun, so named because of his black coat and long body and his
+resemblance to a loach. Viun was an unusually civil and friendly dog,
+looking as kindly at a stranger as at his masters, but he was not to
+be trusted. Beneath his deference and humbleness was hid the most
+inquisitorial maliciousness. No one knew better than he how to sneak
+up and take a bite at a leg, or slip into the larder or steal a
+muzhik's chicken. More than once they had nearly broken his hind-legs,
+twice he had been hung up, every week he was nearly flogged to death,
+but he always recovered.
+
+At this moment, for certain, Vanka's grandfather must be standing at
+the gate, blinking his eyes at the bright red windows of the village
+church, stamping his feet in their high-felt boots, and jesting with
+the people in the yard; his cudgel will be hanging from his belt, he
+will be hugging himself with cold, giving a little dry, old man's
+cough, and at times pinching a servant-girl or a cook.
+
+"Won't we take some snuff?" he asks, holding out his snuff-box to the
+women. The women take a pinch of snuff, and sneeze.
+
+The old man goes into indescribable ecstasies, breaks into loud
+laughter, and cries:
+
+"Off with it, it will freeze to your nose!"
+
+He gives his snuff to the dogs, too. Kashtanka sneezes, twitches her
+nose, and walks away offended. Viun deferentially refuses to sniff and
+wags his tail. It is glorious weather, not a breath of wind, clear,
+and frosty; it is a dark night, but the whole village, its white roofs
+and streaks of smoke from the chimneys, the trees silvered with
+hoar-frost, and the snowdrifts, you can see it all. The sky
+scintillates with bright twinkling stars, and the Milky Way stands out
+so clearly that it looks as if it had been polished and rubbed over
+with snow for the holidays...
+
+Vanka sighs, dips his pen in the ink, and continues to write:
+
+"Last night I got a thrashing, my master dragged me by my hair into
+the yard, and belaboured me with a shoe-maker's stirrup, because,
+while I was rocking his brat in its cradle, I unfortunately fell
+asleep. And during the week, my mistress told me to clean a herring,
+and I began by its tail, so she took the herring and stuck its snout
+into my face. The assistants tease me, send me to the tavern for
+vodka, make me steal the master's cucumbers, and the master beats me
+with whatever is handy. Food there is none; in the morning it's bread,
+at dinner gruel, and in the evening bread again. As for tea or
+sour-cabbage soup, the master and the mistress themselves guzzle that.
+They make me sleep in the vestibule, and when their brat cries, I
+don't sleep at all, but have to rock the cradle. Dear Grandpapa, for
+Heaven's sake, take me away from here, home to our village, I can't
+bear this any more... I bow to the ground to you, and will pray to God
+for ever and ever, take me from here or I shall die..."
+
+The corners of Vanka's mouth went down, he rubbed his eyes with his
+dirty fist, and sobbed.
+
+"I'll grate your tobacco for you," he continued, "I'll pray to God for
+you, and if there is anything wrong, then flog me like the grey goat.
+And if you really think I shan't find work, then I'll ask the manager,
+for Christ's sake, to let me clean the boots, or I'll go instead of
+Fedya as underherdsman. Dear Grandpapa, I can't bear this any more,
+it'll kill me... I wanted to run away to our village, but I have no
+boots, and I was afraid of the frost, and when I grow up I'll look
+after you, no one shall harm you, and when you die I'll pray for the
+repose of your soul, just like I do for mamma Pelagueya.
+
+"As for Moscow, it is a large town, there are all gentlemen's houses,
+lots of horses, no sheep, and the dogs are not vicious. The children
+don't come round at Christmas with a star, no one is allowed to sing
+in the choir, and once I saw in a shop window hooks on a line and
+fishing rods, all for sale, and for every kind of fish, awfully
+convenient. And there was one hook which would catch a sheat-fish
+weighing a pound. And there are shops with guns, like the master's,
+and I am sure they must cost 100 rubles each. And in the meat-shops
+there are woodcocks, partridges, and hares, but who shot them or where
+they come from, the shopman won't say.
+
+"Dear Grandpapa, and when the masters give a Christmas tree, take a
+golden walnut and hide it in my green box. Ask the young lady, Olga
+Ignatyevna, for it, say it's for Vanka."
+
+Vanka sighed convulsively, and again stared at the window. He
+remembered that his grandfather always went to the forest for the
+Christmas tree, and took his grandson with him. What happy times! The
+frost crackled, his grandfather crackled, and as they both did, Vanka
+did the same. Then before cutting down the Christmas tree his
+grandfather smoked his pipe, took a long pinch of snuff, and made fun
+of poor frozen little Vanka... The young fir trees, wrapt in
+hoar-frost, stood motionless, waiting for which of them would die.
+Suddenly a hare springing from somewhere would dart over the
+snowdrift... His grandfather could not help shouting:
+
+"Catch it, catch it, catch it! Ah, short-tailed devil!"
+
+When the tree was down, his grandfather dragged it to the master's
+house, and there they set about decorating it. The young lady, Olga
+Ignatyevna, Vanka's great friend, busied herself most about it. When
+little Vanka's mother, Pelagueya, was still alive, and was
+servant-woman in the house, Olga Ignatyevna used to stuff him with
+sugar-candy, and, having nothing to do, taught him to read, write,
+count up to one hundred, and even to dance the quadrille. When
+Pelagueya died, they placed the orphan Vanka in the kitchen with his
+grandfather, and from the kitchen he was sent to Moscow to Aliakhin,
+the shoemaker.
+
+"Come quick, dear Grandpapa," continued Vanka, "I beseech you for
+Christ's sake take me from here. Have pity on a poor orphan, for here
+they beat me, and I am frightfully hungry, and so sad that I can't
+tell you, I cry all the time. The other day the master hit me on the
+head with a last; I fell to the ground, and only just returned to
+life. My life is a misfortune, worse than any dog's... I send
+greetings to Aliona, to one-eyed Tegor, and the coachman, and don't
+let any one have my mouth-organ. I remain, your grandson, Ivan Zhukov,
+dear Grandpapa, do come."
+
+Vanka folded his sheet of paper in four, and put it into an envelope
+purchased the night before for a kopek. He thought a little, dipped
+the pen into the ink, and wrote the address:
+
+"The village, to my grandfather." He then scratched his head, thought
+again, and added: "Konstantin Makarych." Pleased at not having been
+interfered with in his writing, he put on his cap, and, without
+putting on his sheep-skin coat, ran out in his shirt-sleeves into the
+street.
+
+The shopman at the poulterer's, from whom he had inquired the night
+before, had told him that letters were to be put into post-boxes, and
+from there they were conveyed over the whole earth in mail troikas by
+drunken post-boys and to the sound of bells. Vanka ran to the first
+post-box and slipped his precious letter into the slit.
+
+An hour afterwards, lulled by hope, he was sleeping soundly. In his
+dreams he saw a stove, by the stove his grandfather sitting with his
+legs dangling down, barefooted, and reading a letter to the cooks, and
+Viun walking round the stove wagging his tail.
+
+
+
+
+HIDE AND SEEK
+
+
+
+BY FIODOR SOLOGUB
+
+
+Everything in Lelechka's nursery was bright, pretty, and cheerful.
+Lelechka's sweet voice charmed her mother. Lelechka was a delightful
+child. There was no other such child, there never had been, and there
+never would be. Lelechka's mother, Serafima Aleksandrovna, was sure of
+that. Lelechka's eyes were dark and large, her cheeks were rosy, her
+lips were made for kisses and for laughter. But it was not these
+charms in Lelechka that gave her mother the keenest joy. Lelechka was
+her mother's only child. That was why every movement of Lelechka's
+bewitched her mother. It was great bliss to hold Lelechka on her knees
+and to fondle her; to feel the little girl in her arms--a thing as
+lively and as bright as a little bird.
+
+To tell the truth, Serafima Aleksandrovna felt happy only in the
+nursery. She felt cold with her husband.
+
+Perhaps it was because he himself loved the cold--he loved to drink
+cold water, and to breathe cold air. He was always fresh and cool,
+with a frigid smile, and wherever he passed cold currents seemed to
+move in the air.
+
+The Nesletyevs, Sergey Modestovich and Serafima Aleksandrovna, had
+married without love or calculation, because it was the accepted
+thing. He was a young man of thirty-five, she a young woman of
+twenty-five; both were of the same circle and well brought up; he was
+expected to take a wife, and the time had come for her to take a
+husband.
+
+It even seemed to Serafima Aleksandrovna that she was in love with her
+future husband, and this made her happy. He looked handsome and
+well-bred; his intelligent grey eyes always preserved a dignified
+expression; and he fulfilled his obligations of a fiancé with
+irreproachable gentleness.
+
+The bride was also good-looking; she was a tall, dark-eyed,
+dark-haired girl, somewhat timid but very tactful. He was not after
+her dowry, though it pleased him to know that she had something. He
+had connexions, and his wife came of good, influential people. This
+might, at the proper opportunity, prove useful. Always irreproachable
+and tactful, Nesletyev got on in his position not so fast that any one
+should envy him, nor yet so slow that he should envy any one
+else--everything came in the proper measure and at the proper time.
+
+After their marriage there was nothing in the manner of Sergey
+Modestovich to suggest anything wrong to his wife. Later, however,
+when his wife was about to have a child, Sergey Modestovich
+established connexions elsewhere of a light and temporary nature.
+Serafima Aleksandrovna found this out, and, to her own astonishment,
+was not particularly hurt; she awaited her infant with a restless
+anticipation that swallowed every other feeling.
+
+A little girl was born; Serafima Aleksandrovna gave herself up to her.
+At the beginning she used to tell her husband, with rapture, of all
+the joyous details of Lelechka's existence. But she soon found that he
+listened to her without the slightest interest, and only from the
+habit of politeness. Serafima Aleksandrovna drifted farther and
+farther away from him. She loved her little girl with the ungratified
+passion that other women, deceived in their husbands, show their
+chance young lovers.
+
+"_Mamochka_, let's play _priatki_" (hide and seek), cried Lelechka,
+pronouncing the _r_ like the _l_, so that the word sounded "pliatki."
+
+This charming inability to speak always made Serafima Aleksandrovna
+smile with tender rapture. Lelechka then ran away, stamping with her
+plump little legs over the carpets, and hid herself behind the
+curtains near her bed.
+
+"_Tiu-tiu, mamochka!_" she cried out in her sweet, laughing voice, as
+she looked out with a single roguish eye.
+
+"Where is my baby girl?" the mother asked, as she looked for Lelechka
+and made believe that she did not see her.
+
+And Lelechka poured out her rippling laughter in her hiding place.
+Then she came out a little farther, and her mother, as though she had
+only just caught sight of her, seized her by her little shoulders and
+exclaimed joyously: "Here she is, my Lelechka!"
+
+Lelechka laughed long and merrily, her head close to her mother's
+knees, and all of her cuddled up between her mother's white hands. Her
+mother's eyes glowed with passionate emotion.
+
+"Now, _mamochka_, you hide," said Lelechka, as she ceased laughing.
+
+Her mother went to hide. Lelechka turned away as though not to see,
+but watched her _mamochka_ stealthily all the time. Mamma hid behind
+the cupboard, and exclaimed: "_Tiu-tiu_, baby girl!"
+
+Lelechka ran round the room and looked into all the corners, making
+believe, as her mother had done before, that she was seeking--though
+she really knew all the time where her _mamochka_ was standing.
+
+"Where's my _mamochka_?" asked Lelechka. "She's not here, and she's
+not here," she kept on repeating, as she ran from corner to corner.
+
+Her mother stood, with suppressed breathing, her head pressed against
+the wall, her hair somewhat disarranged. A smile of absolute bliss
+played on her red lips.
+
+The nurse, Fedosya, a good-natured and fine-looking, if somewhat
+stupid woman, smiled as she looked at her mistress with her
+characteristic expression, which seemed to say that it was not for her
+to object to gentlewomen's caprices. She thought to herself: "The
+mother is like a little child herself--look how excited she is."
+
+Lelechka was getting nearer her mother's corner. Her mother was
+growing more absorbed every moment by her interest in the game; her
+heart beat with short quick strokes, and she pressed even closer to
+the wall, disarranging her hair still more. Lelechka suddenly glanced
+toward her mother's corner and screamed with joy.
+
+"I've found 'oo," she cried out loudly and joyously, mispronouncing
+her words in a way that again made her mother happy.
+
+She pulled her mother by her hands to the middle of the room, they
+were merry and they laughed; and Lelechka again hid her head against
+her mother's knees, and went on lisping and lisping, without end, her
+sweet little words, so fascinating yet so awkward.
+
+Sergey Modestovich was coming at this moment toward the nursery.
+Through the half-closed doors he heard the laughter, the joyous
+outcries, the sound of romping. He entered the nursery, smiling his
+genial cold smile; he was irreproachably dressed, and he looked fresh
+and erect, and he spread round him an atmosphere of cleanliness,
+freshness and coldness. He entered in the midst of the lively game,
+and he confused them all by his radiant coldness. Even Fedosya felt
+abashed, now for her mistress, now for herself. Serafima Aleksandrovna
+at once became calm and apparently cold--and this mood communicated
+itself to the little girl, who ceased to laugh, but looked instead,
+silently and intently, at her father.
+
+Sergey Modestovich gave a swift glance round the room. He liked coming
+here, where everything was beautifully arranged; this was done by
+Serafima Aleksandrovna, who wished to surround her little girl, from
+her very infancy, only with the loveliest things. Serafima
+Aleksandrovna dressed herself tastefully; this, too, she did for
+Lelechka, with the same end in view. One thing Sergey Modestovich had
+not become reconciled to, and this was his wife's almost continuous
+presence in the nursery.
+
+"It's just as I thought... I knew that I'd find you here," he said
+with a derisive and condescending smile.
+
+They left the nursery together. As he followed his wife through the
+door Sergey Modestovich said rather indifferently, in an incidental
+way, laying no stress on his words: "Don't you think that it would be
+well for the little girl if she were sometimes without your company?
+Merely, you see, that the child should feel its own individuality," he
+explained in answer to Serafima Aleksandrovna's puzzled glance.
+
+"She's still so little," said Serafima Aleksandrovna.
+
+"In any case, this is but my humble opinion. I don't insist. It's your
+kingdom there."
+
+"I'll think it over," his wife answered, smiling, as he did, coldly
+but genially.
+
+Then they began to talk of something else.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Nurse Fedosya, sitting in the kitchen that evening, was telling the
+silent housemaid Darya and the talkative old cook Agathya about the
+young lady of the house, and how the child loved to play _priatki_
+with her mother--"She hides her little face, and cries '_tiutiu_'!"
+
+"And the mistress herself is like a little one," added Fedosya,
+smiling.
+
+Agathya listened and shook her head ominously; while her face became
+grave and reproachful.
+
+"That the mistress does it, well, that's one thing; but that the young
+lady does it, that's bad."
+
+"Why?" asked Fedosya with curiosity.
+
+This expression of curiosity gave her face the look of a wooden,
+roughly-painted doll.
+
+"Yes, that's bad," repeated Agathya with conviction. "Terribly bad!"
+
+"Well?" said Fedosya, the ludicrous expression of curiosity on her
+face becoming more emphatic.
+
+"She'll hide, and hide, and hide away," said Agathya, in a mysterious
+whisper, as she looked cautiously toward the door.
+
+"What are you saying?" exclaimed Fedosya, frightened.
+
+"It's the truth I'm saying, remember my words," Agathya went on with
+the same assurance and secrecy. "It's the surest sign."
+
+The old woman had invented this sign, quite suddenly, herself; and she
+was evidently very proud of it.
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Lelechka was asleep, and Serafima Aleksandrovna was sitting in her own
+room, thinking with joy and tenderness of Lelechka. Lelechka was in
+her thoughts, first a sweet, tiny girl, then a sweet, big girl, then
+again a delightful little girl; and so until the end she remained
+mamma's little Lelechka.
+
+Serafima Aleksandrovna did not even notice that Fedosya came up to her
+and paused before her. Fedosya had a worried, frightened look.
+
+"Madam, madam," she said quietly, in a trembling voice.
+
+Serafima Aleksandrovna gave a start. Fedosya's face made her anxious.
+
+"What is it, Fedosya?" she asked with great concern. "Is there
+anything wrong with Lelechka?"
+
+"No, madam," said Fedosya, as she gesticulated with her hands to
+reassure her mistress and to make her sit down. "Lelechka is asleep,
+may God be with her! Only I'd like to say something--you see--Lelechka
+is always hiding herself--that's not good."
+
+Fedosya looked at her mistress with fixed eyes, which had grown round
+from fright.
+
+"Why not good?" asked Serafima Aleksandrovna, with vexation,
+succumbing involuntarily to vague fears.
+
+"I can't tell you how bad it is," said Fedosya, and her face expressed
+the most decided confidence.
+
+"Please speak in a sensible way," observed Serafima Aleksandrovna
+dryly. "I understand nothing of what you are saying."
+
+"You see, madam, it's a kind of omen," explained Fedosya abruptly, in
+a shamefaced way.
+
+"Nonsense!" said Serafima Aleksandrovna.
+
+She did not wish to hear any further as to the sort of omen it was,
+and what it foreboded. But, somehow, a sense of fear and of sadness
+crept into her mood, and it was humiliating to feel that an absurd
+tale should disturb her beloved fancies, and should agitate her so
+deeply.
+
+"Of course I know that gentlefolk don't believe in omens, but it's a
+bad omen, madam," Fedosya went on in a doleful voice, "the young lady
+will hide, and hide..."
+
+Suddenly she burst into tears, sobbing out loudly: "She'll hide, and
+hide, and hide away, angelic little soul, in a damp grave," she
+continued, as she wiped her tears with her apron and blew her nose.
+
+"Who told you all this?" asked Serafima Aleksandrovna in an austere
+low voice.
+
+"Agathya says so, madam," answered Fedosya; "it's she that knows."
+
+"Knows!" exclaimed Serafima Aleksandrovna in irritation, as though she
+wished to protect herself somehow from this sudden anxiety. "What
+nonsense! Please don't come to me with any such notions in the future.
+Now you may go."
+
+Fedosya, dejected, her feelings hurt, left her mistress.
+
+"What nonsense! As though Lelechka could die!" thought Serafima
+Aleksandrovna to herself, trying to conquer the feeling of coldness
+and fear which took possession, of her at the thought of the possible
+death of Lelechka. Serafima Aleksandrovna, upon reflection, attributed
+these women's beliefs in omens to ignorance. She saw clearly that
+there could be no possible connexion between a child's quite ordinary
+diversion and the continuation of the child's life. She made a special
+effort that evening to occupy her mind with other matters, but her
+thoughts returned involuntarily to the fact that Lelechka loved to
+hide herself.
+
+When Lelechka was still quite small, and had learned to distinguish
+between her mother and her nurse, she sometimes, sitting in her
+nurse's arms, made a sudden roguish grimace, and hid her laughing face
+in the nurse's shoulder. Then she would look out with a sly glance.
+
+Of late, in those rare moments of the mistress' absence from the
+nursery, Fedosya had again taught Lelechka to hide; and when
+Lelechka's mother, on coming in, saw how lovely the child looked when
+she was hiding, she herself began to play hide and seek with her tiny
+daughter.
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+The next day Serafima Aleksandrovna, absorbed in her joyous cares for
+Lelechka, had forgotten Fedosya's words of the day before.
+
+But when she returned to the nursery, after having ordered the dinner,
+and she heard Lelechka suddenly cry _"Tiu-tiu!"_ from under the table,
+a feeling of fear suddenly took hold of her. Though she reproached
+herself at once for this unfounded, superstitious dread, nevertheless
+she could not enter wholeheartedly into the spirit of Lelechka's
+favourite game, and she tried to divert Lelechka's attention to
+something else.
+
+Lelechka was a lovely and obedient child. She eagerly complied with
+her mother's new wishes. But as she had got into the habit of hiding
+from her mother in some corner, and of crying out _"Tiu-tiu!"_ so even
+that day she returned more than once to the game.
+
+Serafima Aleksandrovna tried desperately to amuse Lelechka. This was
+not so easy because restless, threatening thoughts obtruded themselves
+constantly.
+
+"Why does Lelechka keep on recalling the _tiu-tiu_? Why does she not
+get tired of the same thing--of eternally closing her eyes, and of
+hiding her face? Perhaps," thought Serafima Aleksandrovna, "she is not
+as strongly drawn to the world as other children, who are attracted by
+many things. If this is so, is it not a sign of organic weakness? Is
+it not a germ of the unconscious non-desire to live?"
+
+Serafima Aleksandrovna was tormented by presentiments. She felt
+ashamed of herself for ceasing to play hide and seek with Lelechka
+before Fedosya. But this game had become agonising to her, all the
+more agonising because she had a real desire to play it, and because
+something drew her very strongly to hide herself from Lelechka and to
+seek out the hiding child. Serafima Aleksandrovna herself began the
+game once or twice, though she played it with a heavy heart. She
+suffered as though committing an evil deed with full consciousness.
+
+It was a sad day for Serafima Aleksandrovna.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+Lelechka was about to fall asleep. No sooner had she climbed into her
+little bed, protected by a network on all sides, than her eyes began
+to close from fatigue. Her mother covered her with a blue blanket.
+Lelechka drew her sweet little hands from under the blanket and
+stretched them out to embrace her mother. Her mother bent down.
+Lelechka, with a tender expression on her sleepy face, kissed her
+mother and let her head fall on the pillow. As her hands hid
+themselves under the blanket Lelechka whispered: "The hands
+_tiu-tiu!_"
+
+The mother's heart seemed to stop--Lelechka lay there so small, so
+frail, so quiet. Lelechka smiled gently, closed her eyes and said
+quietly: "The eyes _tiu-tiu!_"
+
+Then even more quietly: "Lelechka _tiu-tiu!_"
+
+With these words she fell asleep, her face pressing the pillow. She
+seemed so small and so frail under the blanket that covered her. Her
+mother looked at her with sad eyes.
+
+Serafima Aleksandrovna remained standing over Lelechka's bed a long
+while, and she kept looking at Lelechka with tenderness and fear.
+
+"I'm a mother: is it possible that I shouldn't be able to protect
+her?" she thought, as she imagined the various ills that might befall
+Lelechka.
+
+She prayed long that night, but the prayer did not relieve her
+sadness.
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+Several days passed. Lelechka caught cold. The fever came upon her at
+night. When Serafima Aleksandrovna, awakened by Fedosya, came to
+Lelechka and saw her looking so hot, so restless, and so tormented,
+she instantly recalled the evil omen, and a hopeless despair took
+possession of her from the first moments.
+
+A doctor was called, and everything was done that is usual on such
+occasions--but the inevitable happened. Serafima Aleksandrovna tried
+to console herself with the hope that Lelechka would get well, and
+would again laugh and play--yet this seemed to her an unthinkable
+happiness! And Lelechka grew feebler from hour to hour.
+
+All simulated tranquillity, so as not to frighten Serafima
+Aleksandrovna, but their masked faces only made her sad.
+
+Nothing made her so unhappy as the reiterations of Fedosya, uttered
+between sobs: "She hid herself and hid herself, our Lelechka!"
+
+But the thoughts of Serafima Aleksandrovna were confused, and she
+could not quite grasp what was happening.
+
+Fever was consuming Lelechka, and there were times when she lost
+consciousness and spoke in delirium. But when she returned to herself
+she bore her pain and her fatigue with gentle good nature; she smiled
+feebly at her _mamochka_, so that her _mamochka_ should not see how
+much she suffered. Three days passed, torturing like a nightmare.
+Lelechka grew quite feeble. She did not know that she was dying.
+
+She glanced at her mother with her dimmed eyes, and lisped in a
+scarcely audible, hoarse voice: "_Tiu-tiu, mamochka!_ Make _tiu-tiu,
+mamochka!_"
+
+Serafima Aleksandrovna hid her face behind the curtains near
+Lelechka's bed. How tragic!
+
+"_Mamochka!_" called Lelechka in an almost inaudible voice.
+
+Lelechka's mother bent over her, and Lelechka, her vision grown still
+more dim, saw her mother's pale, despairing face for the last time.
+
+"A white _mamochka_!" whispered Lelechka.
+
+_Mamochka's_ white face became blurred, and everything grew dark
+before Lelechka. She caught the edge of the bed-cover feebly with her
+hands and whispered: "_Tiu-tiu!_"
+
+Something rattled in her throat; Lelechka opened and again closed her
+rapidly paling lips, and died.
+
+Serafima Aleksandrovna was in dumb despair as she left Lelechka, and
+went out of the room. She met her husband.
+
+"Lelechka is dead," she said in a quiet, dull voice.
+
+Sergey Modestovich looked anxiously at her pale face. He was struck by
+the strange stupor in her formerly animated handsome features.
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+
+Lelechka was dressed, placed in a little coffin, and carried into the
+parlour. Serafima Aleksandrovna was standing by the coffin and looking
+dully at her dead child. Sergey Modestovich went to his wife and,
+consoling her with cold, empty words, tried to draw her away from the
+coffin. Serafima Aleksandrovna smiled.
+
+"Go away," she said quietly. "Lelechka is playing. She'll be up in a
+minute."
+
+"Sima, my dear, don't agitate yourself," said Sergey Modestovich in a
+whisper. "You must resign yourself to your fate."
+
+"She'll be up in a minute," persisted Serafima Aleksandrovna, her eyes
+fixed on the dead little girl.
+
+Sergey Modestovich looked round him cautiously: he was afraid of the
+unseemly and of the ridiculous.
+
+"Sima, don't agitate yourself," he repeated. "This would be a miracle,
+and miracles do not happen in the nineteenth century."
+
+No sooner had he said these words than Sergey Modestovich felt their
+irrelevance to what had happened. He was confused and annoyed.
+
+He took his wife by the arm, and cautiously led her away from the
+coffin. She did not oppose him.
+
+Her face seemed tranquil and her eyes were dry. She went into the
+nursery and began to walk round the room, looking into those places
+where Lelechka used to hide herself. She walked all about the room,
+and bent now and then to look under the table or under the bed, and
+kept on repeating cheerfully: "Where is my little one? Where is my
+Lelechka?"
+
+After she had walked round the room once she began to make her quest
+anew. Fedosya, motionless, with dejected face, sat in a corner, and
+looked frightened at her mistress; then she suddenly burst out
+sobbing, and she wailed loudly:
+
+"She hid herself, and hid herself, our Lelechka, our angelic little
+soul!"
+
+Serafima Aleksandrovna trembled, paused, cast a perplexed look at
+Fedosya, began to weep, and left the nursery quietly.
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+
+Sergey Modestovich hurried the funeral. He saw that Serafima
+Aleksandrovna was terribly shocked by her sudden misfortune, and as
+he feared for her reason he thought she would more readily be diverted
+and consoled when Lelechka was buried.
+
+Next morning Serafima Aleksandrovna dressed with particular care--for
+Lelechka. When she entered the parlour there were several people
+between her and Lelechka. The priest and deacon paced up and down the
+room; clouds of blue smoke drifted in the air, and there was a smell
+of incense. There was an oppressive feeling of heaviness in Serafima
+Aleksandrovna's head as she approached Lelechka. Lelechka lay there
+still and pale, and smiled pathetically. Serafima Aleksandrovna laid
+her cheek upon the edge of Lelechka's coffin, and whispered:
+"_Tiu-tiu_, little one!"
+
+The little one did not reply. Then there was some kind of stir and
+confusion around Serafima Aleksandrovna; strange, unnecessary faces
+bent over her, some one held her--and Lelechka was carried away
+somewhere.
+
+Serafima Aleksandrovna stood up erect, sighed in a lost way, smiled,
+and called loudly: "Lelechka!"
+
+Lelechka was being carried out. The mother threw herself after the
+coffin with despairing sobs, but she was held back. She sprang behind
+the door, through which Lelechka had passed, sat down there on the
+floor, and as she looked through the crevice, she cried out:
+"Lelechka, _tiu-tiu!_"
+
+Then she put her head out from behind the door, and began to laugh.
+
+Lelechka was quickly carried away from her mother, and those who
+carried her seemed to run rather than to walk.
+
+
+
+
+DETHRONED
+
+
+
+BY I.N. POTAPENKO
+
+
+"Well?" Captain Zarubkin's wife called out impatiently to her husband,
+rising from the sofa and turning to face him as he entered.
+
+"He doesn't know anything about it," he replied indifferently, as if
+the matter were of no interest to him. Then he asked in a businesslike
+tone: "Nothing for me from the office?"
+
+"Why should I know? Am I your errand boy?"
+
+"How they dilly-dally! If only the package doesn't come too late. It's
+so important!"
+
+"Idiot!"
+
+"Who's an idiot?"
+
+"You, with your indifference, your stupid egoism."
+
+The captain said nothing. He was neither surprised nor insulted. On
+the contrary, the smile on his face was as though he had received a
+compliment. These wifely animadversions, probably oft-heard, by no
+means interfered with his domestic peace.
+
+"It can't be that the man doesn't know when his wife is coming back
+home," Mrs. Zarubkin continued excitedly. "She's written to him every
+day of the four months that she's been away. The postmaster told me
+so."
+
+"Semyonov! Ho, Semyonov! Has any one from the office been here?"
+
+"I don't know, your Excellency," came in a loud, clear voice from back
+of the room.
+
+"Why don't you know? Where have you been?"
+
+"I went to Abramka, your Excellency."
+
+"The tailor again?"
+
+"Yes, your Excellency, the tailor Abramka."
+
+The captain spat in annoyance.
+
+"And where is Krynka?"
+
+"He went to market, your Excellency."
+
+"Was he told to go to market?"
+
+"Yes, your Excellency."
+
+The captain spat again.
+
+"Why do you keep spitting? Such vulgar manners!" his wife cried
+angrily. "You behave at home like a drunken subaltern. You haven't the
+least consideration for your wife. You are so coarse in your behaviour
+towards me! Do, please, go to your office."
+
+"Semyonov."
+
+"Your Excellency?"
+
+"If the package comes, please have it sent back to the office and say
+I've gone there. And listen! Some one must always be here. I won't
+have everybody out of the house at the same time. Do you hear?"
+
+"Yes, your Excellency."
+
+The captain put on his cap to go. In the doorway he turned and
+addressed his wife.
+
+"Please, Tasya, please don't send all the servants on your errands at
+the same time. Something important may turn up, and then there's
+nobody here to attend to it."
+
+He went out, and his wife remained reclining in the sofa corner as if
+his plea were no concern of hers. But scarcely had he left the house,
+when she called out:
+
+"Semyonov, come here. Quick!"
+
+A bare-footed unshaven man in dark blue pantaloons and cotton shirt
+presented himself. His stocky figure and red face made a wholesome
+appearance. He was the Captain's orderly.
+
+"At your service, your Excellency."
+
+"Listen, Semyonov, you don't seem to be stupid."
+
+"I don't know, your Excellency."
+
+"For goodness' sake, drop 'your Excellency.' I am not your superior
+officer."
+
+"Yes, your Excel--"
+
+"Idiot!"
+
+But the lady's manner toward the servant was far friendlier than
+toward her husband. Semyonov had it in his power to perform important
+services for her, while the captain had not come up to her
+expectations.
+
+"Listen, Semyonov, how do you and the doctor's men get along together?
+Are you friendly?"
+
+"Yes, your Excellency."
+
+"Intolerable!" cried the lady, jumping up. "Stop using that silly
+title. Can't you speak like a sensible man?"
+
+Semyonov had been standing in the stiff attitude of attention, with
+the palms of his hands at the seams of his trousers. Now he suddenly
+relaxed, and even wiped his nose with his fist.
+
+"That's the way we are taught to do," he said carelessly, with a
+clownish grin. "The gentlemen, the officers, insist on it."
+
+"Now, tell me, you are on good terms with the doctor's men?"
+
+"You mean Podmar and Shuchok? Of course, we're friends."
+
+"Very well, then go straight to them and try to find out when Mrs.
+Shaldin is expected back. They ought to know. They must be getting
+things ready against her return--cleaning her bedroom and fixing it
+up. Do you understand? But be careful to find out right. And also be
+very careful not to let on for whom you are finding it out. Do you
+understand?'
+
+"Of course, I understand."
+
+"Well, then, go. But one more thing. Since you're going out, you may
+as well stop at Abramka's again and tell him to come here right away.
+You understand?"
+
+"But his Excellency gave me orders to stay at home," said Semyonov,
+scratching himself behind his ears.
+
+"Please don't answer back. Just do as I tell you. Go on, now."
+
+"At your service." And the orderly, impressed by the lady's severe
+military tone, left the room.
+
+Mrs. Zarubkin remained reclining on the sofa for a while. Then she
+rose and walked up and down the room and finally went to her bedroom,
+where her two little daughters were playing in their nurse's care. She
+scolded them a bit and returned to her former place on the couch. Her
+every movement betrayed great excitement.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Tatyana Grigoryevna Zarubkin was one of the most looked-up to ladies
+of the S---- Regiment and even of the whole town of Chmyrsk, where the
+regiment was quartered. To be sure, you hardly could say that, outside
+the regiment, the town could boast any ladies at all. There were very
+respectable women, decent wives, mothers, daughters and widows of
+honourable citizens; but they all dressed in cotton and flannel, and
+on high holidays made a show of cheap Cashmere gowns over which they
+wore gay shawls with borders of wonderful arabesques. Their hats and
+other headgear gave not the faintest evidence of good taste. So they
+could scarcely be dubbed "ladies." They were satisfied to be called
+"women." Each one of them, almost, had the name of her husband's trade
+or position tacked to her name--Mrs. Grocer so-and-so, Mrs. Mayor
+so-and-so, Mrs. Milliner so-and-so, etc. Genuine _ladies_ in the
+Russian society sense had never come to the town before the
+S---- Regiment had taken up its quarters there; and it goes without
+saying that the ladies of the regiment had nothing in common, and
+therefore no intercourse with, the women of the town. They were so
+dissimilar that they were like creatures of a different species.
+
+There is no disputing that Tatyana Grigoryevna Zarubkin was one of the
+most looked-up-to of the ladies. She invariably played the most
+important part at all the regimental affairs--the amateur theatricals,
+the social evenings, the afternoon teas. If the captain's wife was not
+to be present, it was a foregone conclusion that the affair would not
+be a success.
+
+The most important point was that Mrs. Zarubkin had the untarnished
+reputation of being the best-dressed of all the ladies. She was always
+the most distinguished looking at the annual ball. Her gown for the
+occasion, ordered from Moscow, was always chosen with the greatest
+regard for her charms and defects, and it was always exquisitely
+beautiful. A new fashion could not gain admittance to the other ladies
+of the regiment except by way of the captain's wife. Thanks to her
+good taste in dressing, the stately blonde was queen at all the balls
+and in all the salons of Chmyrsk. Another advantage of hers was that
+although she was nearly forty she still looked fresh and youthful, so
+that the young officers were constantly hovering about her and paying
+her homage.
+
+November was a very lively month in the regiment's calendar. It was on
+the tenth of November that the annual ball took place. The ladies, of
+course, spent their best efforts in preparation for this event.
+Needless to say that in these arduous activities, Abramka Stiftik, the
+ladies' tailor, played a prominent role. He was the one man in Chmyrsk
+who had any understanding at all for the subtle art of the feminine
+toilet. Preparations had begun in his shop in August already. Within
+the last weeks his modest parlour--furnished with six shabby chairs
+placed about a round table, and a fly-specked mirror on the wall--the
+atmosphere heavy with a smell of onions and herring, had been filled
+from early morning to the evening hours with the most charming and
+elegant of the fairer sex. There was trying-on and discussion of
+styles and selection of material. It was all very nerve-racking for
+the ladies.
+
+The only one who had never appeared in this parlour was the captain's
+wife. That had been a thorn in Abramka's flesh. He had spent days and
+nights going over in his mind how he could rid this lady of the, in
+his opinion, wretched habit of ordering her clothes from Moscow. For
+this ball, however, as she herself had told him, she had not ordered a
+dress but only material from out of town, from which he deduced that
+he was to make the gown for her. But there was only one week left
+before the ball, and still she had not come to him. Abramka was in a
+state of feverishness. He longed once to make a dress for Mrs.
+Zarubkin. It would add to his glory. He wanted to prove that he
+understood his trade just as well as any tailor in Moscow, and that it
+was quite superfluous for her to order her gowns outside of Chmyrsk.
+He would come out the triumphant competitor of Moscow.
+
+As each day passed and Mrs. Zarubkin did not appear in his shop, his
+nervousness increased. Finally she ordered a dressing-jacket from
+him--but not a word said of a ball gown. What was he to think of it?
+
+So, when Semyonov told him that Mrs. Zarubkin was expecting him at her
+home, it goes without saying that he instantly removed the dozen pins
+in his mouth, as he was trying on a customer's dress, told one of his
+assistants to continue with the fitting, and instantly set off to call
+on the captain's wife. In this case, it was not a question of a mere
+ball gown, but of the acquisition of the best customer in town.
+
+Although Abramka wore a silk hat and a suit in keeping with the silk
+hat, still he was careful not to ring at the front entrance, but
+always knocked at the back door. At another time when the captain's
+orderly was not in the house--for the captain's orderly also performed
+the duties of the captain's cook--he might have knocked long and loud.
+On other occasions a cannon might have been shot off right next to
+Tatyana Grigoryevna's ears and she would not have lifted her fingers
+to open the door. But now she instantly caught the sound of the modest
+knocking and opened the back door herself for Abramka.
+
+"Oh!" she cried delightedly. "You, Abramka!"
+
+She really wanted to address him less familiarly, as was more
+befitting so dignified a man in a silk hat; but everybody called him
+"Abramka," and he would have been very much surprised had he been
+honoured with his full name, Abram Srulevich Stiftik. So she thought
+it best to address him as the others did.
+
+Mr. "Abramka" was tall and thin. There was always a melancholy
+expression in his pale face. He had a little stoop, a long and very
+heavy greyish beard. He had been practising his profession for thirty
+years. Ever since his apprenticeship he had been called "Abramka,"
+which did not strike him as at all derogatory or unfitting. Even his
+shingle read: "Ladies' Tailor: Abramka Stiftik"--the most valid proof
+that he deemed his name immaterial, but that the chief thing to him
+was his art. As a matter of fact, he had attained, if not perfection
+in tailoring, yet remarkable skill. To this all the ladies of the
+S---- Regiment could attest with conviction.
+
+Abramka removed his silk hat, stepped into the kitchen, and said
+gravely, with profound feeling:
+
+"Mrs. Zarubkin, I am entirely at your service."
+
+"Come into the reception room. I have something very important to
+speak to you about."
+
+Abramka followed in silence. He stepped softly on tiptoe, as if afraid
+of waking some one.
+
+"Sit down, Abramka, listen--but give me your word of honour, you won't
+tell any one?" Tatyana Grigoryevna began, reddening a bit. She was
+ashamed to have to let the tailor Abramka into her secret, but since
+there was no getting around it, she quieted herself and in an instant
+had regained her ease.
+
+"I don't know what you are speaking of, Mrs. Zarubkin," Abramka
+rejoined. He assumed a somewhat injured manner. "Have you ever heard
+of Abramka ever babbling anything out? You certainly know that in my
+profession--you know everybody has some secret to be kept."
+
+"Oh, you must have misunderstood me, Abramka. What sort of secrets do
+you mean?"
+
+"Well, one lady is a little bit one-sided, another lady"--he pointed
+to his breast--"is not quite full enough, another lady has scrawny
+arms--such things as that have to be covered up or filled out or laced
+in, so as to look better. That is where our art comes in. But we are
+in duty bound not to say anything about it."
+
+Tatyana Grigoryevna smiled.
+
+"Well, I can assure you I am all right that way. There is nothing
+about me that needs to be covered up or filled out."
+
+"Oh, as if I didn't know that! Everybody knows that Mrs. Zarubkin's
+figure is perfect," Abramka cried, trying to flatter his new customer.
+
+Mrs. Zarubkin laughed and made up her mind to remember "Everybody
+knows that Mrs. Zarubkin's figure is perfect." Then she said:
+
+"You know that the ball is to take place in a week."
+
+"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Zarubkin, in only one week; unfortunately, only one
+week," replied Abramka, sighing.
+
+"But you remember your promise to make my dress for me for the ball
+this time?"
+
+"Mrs. Zarubkin," Abramka cried, laying his hand on his heart. "Have I
+said that I was not willing to make it? No, indeed, I said it must be
+made and made right--for Mrs. Zarubkin, it must be better than for any
+one else. That's the way I feel about it."
+
+"Splendid! Just what I wanted to know."
+
+"But why don't you show me your material? Why don't you say to me,
+'Here, Abramka, here is the stuff, make a dress?' Abramka would work
+on it day and night."
+
+"Ahem, that's just it--I can't order it. That is where the trouble
+comes in. Tell me, Abramka, what is the shortest time you need for
+making the dress? Listen, the very shortest?"
+
+Abramka shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Well, is a week too much for a ball dress such as you will want? It's
+got to be sewed, it can't be pasted together, You, yourself, know
+that, Mrs. Zarubkin."
+
+"But supposing I order it only three days before the ball?"
+
+Abramka started.
+
+"Only three days before the ball? A ball dress? Am I a god, Mrs.
+Zarubkin? I am nothing but the ladies' tailor, Abramka Stiftik."
+
+"Well, then you are a nice tailor!" said Tatyana Grigoryevna,
+scornfully. "In Moscow they made a ball dress for me in two days."
+
+Abramka jumped up as if at a shot, and beat his breast.
+
+"Is that so? Then I say, Mrs. Zarubkin," he cried pathetically, "if
+they made a ball gown for you in Moscow in two days, very well, then I
+will make a ball gown for you, if I must, in one day. I will neither
+eat nor sleep, and I won't let my help off either for one minute. How
+does that suit you?"
+
+"Sit down, Abramka, thank you very much. I hope I shall not have to
+put such a strain on you. It really does not depend upon me, otherwise
+I should have ordered the dress from you long ago."
+
+"It doesn't depend upon you? Then upon whom does it depend?"
+
+"Ahem, it depends upon--but now, Abramka, remember this is just
+between you and me--it depends upon Mrs. Shaldin."
+
+"Upon Mrs. Shaldin, the doctor's wife? Why she isn't even here."
+
+"That's just it. That is why I have to wait. How is it that a clever
+man like you, Abramka, doesn't grasp the situation?"
+
+"Hm, hm! Let me see." Abramka racked his brains for a solution of the
+riddle. How could it be that Mrs. Shaldin, who was away, should have
+anything to do with Mrs. Zarubkin's order for a gown? No, that passed
+his comprehension.
+
+"She certainly will get back in time for the ball," said Mrs.
+Zarubkin, to give him a cue.
+
+"Well, yes."
+
+"And certainly will bring a dress back with her."
+
+"Certainly!"
+
+"A dress from abroad, something we have never seen here--something
+highly original."
+
+"Mrs. Zarubkin!" Abramka cried, as if a truth of tremendous import had
+been revealed to him. "Mrs. Zarubkin, I understand. Why certainly!
+Yes, but that will be pretty hard."
+
+"That's just it."
+
+Abramka reflected a moment, then said:
+
+"I assure you, Mrs. Zarubkin, you need not be a bit uneasy. I will
+make a dress for you that will be just as grand as the one from
+abroad. I assure you, your dress will be the most elegant one at the
+ball, just as it always has been. I tell you, my name won't be Abramka
+Stiftik if--"
+
+His eager asseverations seemed not quite to satisfy the captain's
+wife. Her mind was not quite set at ease. She interrupted him.
+
+"But the style, Abramka, the style! You can't possibly guess what the
+latest fashion is abroad."
+
+"Why shouldn't I know what the latest fashion is, Mrs. Zarubkin? In
+Kiev I have a friend who publishes fashion-plates. I will telegraph to
+him, and he will immediately send me pictures of the latest French
+models. The telegram will cost only eighty cents, Mrs. Zarubkin, and I
+swear to you I will copy any dress he sends. Mrs. Shaldin can't
+possibly have a dress like that."
+
+"All very well and good, and that's what we'll do. Still we must wait
+until Mrs. Shaldin comes back. Don't you see, Abramka, I must have
+exactly the same style that she has? Can't you see, so that nobody can
+say that she is in the latest fashion?"
+
+At this point Semyonov entered the room cautiously. He was wearing the
+oddest-looking jacket and the captain's old boots. His hair was
+rumpled, and his eyes were shining suspiciously. There was every sign
+that he had used the renewal of friendship with the doctor's men as a
+pretext for a booze.
+
+"I had to stand them some brandy, your Excellency," he said saucily,
+but catching his mistress's threatening look, he lowered his head
+guiltily.
+
+"Idiot," she yelled at him, "face about. Be off with you to the
+kitchen."
+
+In his befuddlement, Semyonov had not noticed Abramka's presence. Now
+he became aware of him, faced about and retired to the kitchen
+sheepishly.
+
+"What an impolite fellow," said Abramka reproachfully.
+
+"Oh, you wouldn't believe--" said the captain's wife, but instantly
+followed Semyonov into the kitchen.
+
+Semyonov aware of his awful misdemeanour, tried to stand up straight
+and give a report.
+
+"She will come back, your Excellency, day after to-morrow toward
+evening. She sent a telegram."
+
+"Is that true now?"
+
+"I swear it's true. Shuchok saw it himself."
+
+"All right, very good. You will get something for this."
+
+"Yes, your Excellency."
+
+"Silence, you goose. Go on, set the table."
+
+Abramka remained about ten minutes longer with the captain's wife, and
+on leaving said:
+
+"Let me assure you once again, Mrs. Zarubkin, you needn't worry; just
+select the style, and I will make a gown for you that the best tailor
+in Paris can't beat." He pressed his hand to his heart in token of his
+intention to do everything in his power for Mrs. Zarubkin.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was seven o'clock in the evening. Mrs. Shaldin and her trunk had
+arrived hardly half an hour before, yet the captain's wife was already
+there paying visit; which was a sign of the warm friendship that
+existed between the two women. They kissed each other and fell to
+talking. The doctor, a tall man of forty-five, seemed discomfited by
+the visit, and passed unfriendly side glances at his guest. He had
+hoped to spend that evening undisturbed with his wife, and he well
+knew that when the ladies of the regiment came to call upon each other
+"for only a second," it meant a whole evening of listening to idle
+talk.
+
+"You wouldn't believe me, dear, how bored I was the whole time you
+were away, how I longed for you, Natalie Semyonovna. But you probably
+never gave us a thought."
+
+"Oh, how can you say anything like that. I was thinking of you every
+minute, every second. If I hadn't been obliged to finish the cure, I
+should have returned long ago. No matter how beautiful it may be away
+from home, still the only place to live is among those that are near
+and dear to you."
+
+These were only the preliminary soundings. They lasted with variations
+for a quarter of an hour. First Mrs. Shaldin narrated a few incidents
+of the trip, then Mrs. Zarubkin gave a report of some of the chief
+happenings in the life of the regiment. When the conversation was in
+full swing, and the samovar was singing on the table, and the pancakes
+were spreading their appetising odour, the captain's wife suddenly
+cried:
+
+"I wonder what the fashions are abroad now. I say, you must have
+feasted your eyes on them!"
+
+Mrs. Shaldin simply replied with a scornful gesture.
+
+"Other people may like them, but I don't care for them one bit. I am
+glad we here don't get to see them until a year later. You know,
+Tatyana Grigoryevna, you sometimes see the ugliest styles."
+
+"Really?" asked the captain's wife eagerly, her eyes gleaming with
+curiosity. The great moment of complete revelation seemed to have
+arrived.
+
+"Perfectly hideous, I tell you. Just imagine, you know how nice the
+plain skirts were. Then why change them? But no, to be in style now,
+the skirts have to be draped. Why? It is just a sign of complete lack
+of imagination. And in Lyons they got out a new kind of silk--but that
+is still a French secret."
+
+"Why a secret? The silk is certainly being worn already?"
+
+"Yes, one does see it being worn already, but when it was first
+manufactured, the greatest secret was made of it. They were afraid the
+Germans would imitate. You understand?"
+
+"Oh, but what is the latest style?"
+
+"I really can't explain it to you. All I know is, it is something
+awful."
+
+"She can't explain! That means she doesn't want to explain. Oh, the
+cunning one. What a sly look she has in her eyes." So thought the
+captain's wife. From the very beginning of the conversation, the two
+warm friends, it need scarcely be said, were mutually distrustful.
+Each had the conviction that everything the other said was to be taken
+in the very opposite sense. They were of about the same age, Mrs.
+Shaldin possibly one or two years younger than Mrs. Zarubkin. Mrs.
+Zarubkin was rather plump, and had heavy light hair. Her appearance
+was blooming. Mrs. Shaldin was slim, though well proportioned. She was
+a brunette with a pale complexion and large dark eyes. They were two
+types of beauty very likely to divide the gentlemen of the regiment
+into two camps of admirers. But women are never content with halves.
+Mrs. Zarubkin wanted to see all the officers of the regiment at her
+feet, and so did Mrs. Shaldin. It naturally led to great rivalry
+between the two women, of which they were both conscious, though they
+always had the friendliest smiles for each other.
+
+Mrs. Shaldin tried to give a different turn to the conversation.
+
+"Do you think the ball will be interesting this year?"
+
+"Why should it be interesting?" rejoined the captain's wife
+scornfully. "Always the same people, the same old humdrum jog-trot."
+
+"I suppose the ladies have been besieging our poor Abramka?"
+
+"I really can't tell you. So far as I am concerned, I have scarcely
+looked at what he made for me."
+
+"Hm, how's that? Didn't you order your dress from Moscow again?"
+
+"No, it really does not pay. I am sick of the bother of it all. Why
+all that trouble? For whom? Our officers don't care a bit how one
+dresses. They haven't the least taste."
+
+"Hm, there's something back of that," thought Mrs. Shaldin.
+
+The captain's wife continued with apparent indifference:
+
+"I can guess what a gorgeous dress you had made abroad. Certainly in
+the latest fashion?"
+
+"I?" Mrs. Shaldin laughed innocently. "How could I get the time during
+my cure to think of a dress? As a matter of fact, I completely forgot
+the ball, thought of it at the last moment, and bought the first piece
+of goods I laid my hands on."
+
+"Pink?"
+
+"Oh, no. How can you say pink!"
+
+"Light blue, then?"
+
+"You can't call it exactly light blue. It is a very undefined sort of
+colour. I really wouldn't know what to call it."
+
+"But it certainly must have some sort of a shade?"
+
+"You may believe me or not if you choose, but really I don't know.
+It's a very indefinite shade."
+
+"Is it Sura silk?"
+
+"No, I can't bear Sura. It doesn't keep the folds well."
+
+"I suppose it is crêpe de Chine?"
+
+"Heavens, no! Crêpe de Chine is much too expensive for me."
+
+"Then what can it be?"
+
+"Oh, wait a minute, what _is_ the name of that goods? You know there
+are so many funny new names now. They don't make any sense."
+
+"Then show me your dress, dearest. Do please show me your dress."
+
+Mrs. Shaldin seemed to be highly embarrassed.
+
+"I am so sorry I can't. It is way down at the bottom of the trunk.
+There is the trunk. You see yourself I couldn't unpack it now."
+
+The trunk, close to the wall, was covered with oil cloth and tied
+tight with heavy cords. The captain's wife devoured it with her eyes.
+She would have liked to see through and through it. She had nothing to
+say in reply, because it certainly was impossible to ask her friend,
+tired out from her recent journey, to begin to unpack right away and
+take out all her things just to show her her new dress. Yet she could
+not tear her eyes away from the trunk. There was a magic in it that
+held her enthralled. Had she been alone she would have begun to unpack
+it herself, nor even have asked the help of a servant to undo the
+knots. Now there was nothing left for her but to turn her eyes
+sorrowfully away from the fascinating object and take up another topic
+of conversation to which she would be utterly indifferent. But she
+couldn't think of anything else to talk about. Mrs. Shaldin must have
+prepared herself beforehand. She must have suspected something. So now
+Mrs. Zarubkin pinned her last hope to Abramka's inventiveness. She
+glanced at the clock.
+
+"Dear me," she exclaimed, as if surprised at the lateness of the hour.
+"I must be going. I don't want to disturb you any longer either,
+dearest. You must be very tired. I hope you rest well."
+
+She shook hands with Mrs. Shaldin, kissed her and left.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Abramka Stiftik had just taken off his coat and was doing some ironing
+in his shirt sleeves, when a peculiar figure appeared in his shop. It
+was that of a stocky orderly in a well-worn uniform without buttons
+and old galoshes instead of boots. His face was gloomy-looking and was
+covered with a heavy growth of hair. Abramka knew this figure well. It
+seemed always just to have been awakened from the deepest sleep.
+
+"Ah, Shuchok, what do you want?"
+
+"Mrs. Shaldin would like you to call upon her," said Shuchok. He
+behaved as if he had come on a terribly serious mission.
+
+"Ah, that's so, your lady has come back. I heard about it. You see I
+am very busy. Still you may tell her I am coming right away. I just
+want to finish ironing Mrs. Konopotkin's dress."
+
+Abramka simply wanted to keep up appearances, as always when he was
+sent for. But his joy at the summons to Mrs. Shaldin was so great that
+to the astonishment of his helpers and Shuchok he left immediately.
+
+He found Mrs. Shaldin alone. She had not slept well the two nights
+before and had risen late that morning. Her husband had left long
+before for the Military Hospital. She was sitting beside her open
+trunk taking her things out very carefully.
+
+"How do you do, Mrs. Shaldin? Welcome back to Chmyrsk. I congratulate
+you on your happy arrival."
+
+"Oh, how do you do, Abramka?" said Mrs. Shaldin delightedly; "we
+haven't seen each other for a long time, have we? I was rather
+homesick for you."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Shaldin, you must have had a very good time abroad. But what
+do you need me for? You certainly brought a dress back with you?"
+
+"Abramka always comes in handy," said Mrs. Shaldin jestingly. "We
+ladies of the regiment are quite helpless without Abramka. Take a
+seat."
+
+Abramka seated himself. He felt much more at ease in Mrs. Shaldin's
+home than in Mrs. Zarubkin's. Mrs. Shaldin did not order her clothes
+from Moscow. She was a steady customer of his. In this room he had
+many a time circled about the doctor's wife with a yard measure, pins,
+chalk and scissors, had kneeled down beside her, raised himself to his
+feet, bent over again and stood puzzling over some difficult problem
+of dressmaking--how low to cut the dress out at the neck, how long to
+make the train, how wide the hem, and so on. None of the ladies of the
+regiment ordered as much from him as Mrs. Shaldin. Her grandmother
+would send her material from Kiev or the doctor would go on a
+professional trip to Chernigov and always bring some goods back with
+him; or sometimes her aunt in Voronesh would make her a gift of some
+silk.
+
+"Abramka is always ready to serve Mrs. Shaldin first," said the
+tailor, though seized with a little pang, as if bitten by a guilty
+conscience.
+
+"Are you sure you are telling the truth? Is Abramka always to be
+depended upon? Eh, is he?" She looked at him searchingly from beneath
+drooping lids.
+
+"What a question," rejoined Abramka. His face quivered slightly. His
+feeling of discomfort was waxing. "Has Abramka ever--"
+
+"Oh, things can happen. But, all right, never mind. I brought a dress
+along with me. I had to have it made in a great hurry, and there is
+just a little more to be done on it. Now if I give you this dress to
+finish, can I be sure that you positively won't tell another soul how
+it is made?"
+
+"Mrs. Shaldin, oh, Mrs. Shaldin," said Abramka reproachfully.
+Nevertheless, the expression of his face was not so reassuring as
+usual.
+
+"You give me your word of honour?"
+
+"Certainly! My name isn't Abramka Stiftik if I--"
+
+"Well, all right, I will trust you. But be careful. You know of whom
+you must be careful?"
+
+"Who is that, Mrs. Shaldin?"
+
+"Oh, you know very well whom I mean. No, you needn't put your hand on
+your heart. She was here to see me yesterday and tried in every way
+she could to find out how my dress is made. But she couldn't get it
+out of me." Abramka sighed. Mrs. Shaldin seemed to suspect his
+betrayal. "I am right, am I not? She has not had her dress made yet,
+has she? She waited to see my dress, didn't she? And she told you to
+copy the style, didn't she?" Mrs, Shaldin asked with honest naïveté.
+"But I warn you, Abramka, if you give away the least little thing
+about my dress, then all is over between you and me. Remember that."
+
+Abramka's hand went to his heart again, and the gesture carried the
+same sense of conviction as of old.
+
+"Mrs. Shaldin, how can you speak like that?"
+
+"Wait a moment."
+
+Mrs. Shaldin left the room. About ten minutes passed during which
+Abramka had plenty of time to reflect. How could he have given the
+captain's wife a promise like that so lightly? What was the captain's
+wife to him as compared with the doctor's wife? Mrs. Zarubkin had
+never given him a really decent order--just a few things for the house
+and some mending. Supposing he were now to perform this great service
+for her, would that mean that he could depend upon her for the future?
+Was any woman to be depended upon? She would wear this dress out and
+go back to ordering her clothes from Moscow again. But _Mrs. Shaldin_,
+she was very different. He could forgive her having brought this one
+dress along from abroad. What woman in Russia would have refrained,
+when abroad, from buying a new dress? Mrs. Shaldin would continue to
+be his steady customer all the same.
+
+The door opened. Abramka rose involuntarily, and clasped his hands in
+astonishment.
+
+"Well," he exclaimed rapturously, "that is a dress, that is--My, my!"
+He was so stunned he could find nothing more to say. And how charming
+Mrs. Shaldin looked in her wonderful gown! Her tall slim figure seemed
+to have been made for it. What simple yet elegant lines. At first
+glance you would think it was nothing more than an ordinary
+house-gown, but only at first glance. If you looked at it again, you
+could tell right away that it met all the requirements of a fancy
+ball-gown. What struck Abramka most was that it had no waist line,
+that it did not consist of bodice and skirt. That was strange. It was
+just caught lightly together under the bosom, which it brought out in
+relief. Draped over the whole was a sort of upper garment of exquisite
+old-rose lace embroidered with large silk flowers, which fell from the
+shoulders and broadened out in bold superb lines. The dress was cut
+low and edged with a narrow strip of black down around the bosom,
+around the bottom of the lace drapery, and around the hem of the
+skirt. A wonderful fan of feathers to match the down edging gave the
+finishing touch.
+
+"Well, how do you like it, Abramka!" asked Mrs. Shaldin with a
+triumphant smile.
+
+"Glorious, glorious! I haven't the words at my command. What a dress!
+No, I couldn't make a dress like that. And how beautifully it fits
+you, as if you had been born in it, Mrs. Shaldin. What do you call the
+style?"
+
+"Empire."
+
+"Ampeer?" he queried. "Is that a new style? Well, well, what people
+don't think of. Tailors like us might just as well throw our needles
+and scissors away."
+
+"Now, listen, Abramka, I wouldn't have shown it to you if there were
+not this sewing to be done on it. You are the only one who will have
+seen it before the ball. I am not even letting my husband look at it."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Shaldin, you can rely upon me as upon a rock. But after the
+ball may I copy it?"
+
+"Oh, yes, after the ball copy it as much as you please, but not now,
+not for anything in the world."
+
+There were no doubts in Abramka's mind when he left the doctor's
+house. He had arrived at his decision. That superb creation had
+conquered him. It would be a piece of audacity on his part, he felt,
+even to think of imitating such a gown. Why, it was not a gown. It was
+a dream, a fantastic vision--without a bodice, without puffs or frills
+or tawdry trimmings of any sort. Simplicity itself and yet so chic.
+
+Back in his shop he opened the package of fashion-plates that had just
+arrived from Kiev. He turned the pages and stared in astonishment.
+What was that? Could he trust his eyes? An Empire gown. There it was,
+with the broad voluptuous drapery of lace hanging from the shoulders
+and the edging of down. Almost exactly the same thing as Mrs.
+Shaldin's.
+
+He glanced up and saw Semyonov outside the window. He had certainly
+come to fetch him to the captain's wife, who must have ordered him to
+watch the tailor's movements, and must have learned that he had just
+been at Mrs. Shaldin's. Semyonov entered and told him his mistress
+wanted to see him right away.
+
+Abramka slammed the fashion magazine shut as if afraid that Semyonov
+might catch a glimpse of the new Empire fashion and give the secret
+away.
+
+"I will come immediately," he said crossly.
+
+He picked up his fashion plates, put the yard measure in his pocket,
+rammed his silk hat sorrowfully on his head and set off for the
+captain's house. He found Mrs. Zarubkin pacing the room excitedly,
+greeted her, but carefully avoided meeting her eyes.
+
+"Well, what did you find out?"
+
+"Nothing, Mrs. Zarubkin," said Abramka dejectedly. "Unfortunately I
+couldn't find out a thing."
+
+"Idiot! I have no patience with you. Where are the fashion plates?"
+
+"Here, Mrs. Zarubkin."
+
+She turned the pages, looked at one picture after the other, and
+suddenly her eyes shone and her cheeks reddened.
+
+"Oh, Empire! The very thing. Empire is the very latest. Make this one
+for me," she cried commandingly.
+
+Abramka turned pale.
+
+"Ampeer, Mrs. Zarubkin? I can't make that Ampeer dress for you," he
+murmured.
+
+"Why not?" asked the captain's wife, giving him a searching look.
+
+"Because--because--I can't."
+
+"Oh--h--h, you can't? You know why you can't. Because that is the
+style of Mrs. Shaldin's dress. So that is the reliability you boast so
+about? Great!"
+
+"Mrs. Zarubkin, I will make any other dress you choose, but it is
+absolutely impossible for me to make this one."
+
+"I don't need your fashion plates, do you hear me? Get out of here,
+and don't ever show your face again."
+
+"Mrs. Zarubkin, I--"
+
+"Get out of here," repeated the captain's wife, quite beside herself.
+
+The poor tailor stuck his yard measure, which he had already taken
+out, back into his pocket and left.
+
+Half an hour later the captain's wife was entering a train for Kiev,
+carrying a large package which contained material for a dress. The
+captain had accompanied her to the station with a pucker in his
+forehead. That was five days before the ball.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the ball two expensive Empire gowns stood out conspicuously from
+among the more or less elegant gowns which had been finished in the
+shop of Abramka Stiftik, Ladies' Tailor. The one gown adorned Mrs.
+Shaldin's figure, the other the figure of the captain's wife.
+
+Mrs. Zarubkin had bought her gown ready made at Kiev, and had returned
+only two hours before the beginning of the ball. She had scarcely had
+time to dress. Perhaps it would have been better had she not appeared
+at this one of the annual balls, had she not taken that fateful trip
+to Kiev. For in comparison with the make and style of Mrs. Shaldin's
+dress, which had been brought abroad, hers was like the botched
+imitation of an amateur.
+
+That was evident to everybody, though the captain's wife had her
+little group of partisans, who maintained with exaggerated eagerness
+that she looked extraordinarily fascinating in her dress and Mrs.
+Shaldin still could not rival her. But there was no mistaking it,
+there was little justice in this contention. Everybody knew better;
+what was worst of all, Mrs. Zarubkin herself knew better. Mrs.
+Shaldin's triumph was complete.
+
+The two ladies gave each other the same friendly smiles as always, but
+one of them was experiencing the fine disdain and the derision of the
+conqueror, while the other was burning inside with the furious
+resentment of a dethroned goddess--goddess of the annual ball.
+
+From that time on Abramka cautiously avoided passing the captain's
+house.
+
+
+
+
+THE SERVANT
+
+
+
+BY S.T. SEMYONOV
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+Gerasim returned to Moscow just at a time when it was hardest to find
+work, a short while before Christmas, when a man sticks even to a poor
+job in the expectation of a present. For three weeks the peasant lad
+had been going about in vain seeking a position.
+
+He stayed with relatives and friends from his village, and although he
+had not yet suffered great want, it disheartened him that he, a strong
+young man, should go without work.
+
+Gerasim had lived in Moscow from early boyhood. When still a mere
+child, he had gone to work in a brewery as bottle-washer, and later as
+a lower servant in a house. In the last two years he had been in a
+merchant's employ, and would still have held that position, had he not
+been summoned back to his village for military duty. However, he had
+not been drafted. It seemed dull to him in the village, he was not
+used to the country life, so he decided he would rather count the
+stones in Moscow than stay there.
+
+Every minute it was getting to be more and more irksome for him to be
+tramping the streets in idleness. Not a stone did he leave unturned in
+his efforts to secure any sort of work. He plagued all of his
+acquaintances, he even held up people on the street and asked them if
+they knew of a situation--all in vain.
+
+Finally Gerasim could no longer bear being a burden on his people.
+Some of them were annoyed by his coming to them; and others had
+suffered unpleasantness from their masters on his account. He was
+altogether at a loss what to do. Sometimes he would go a whole day
+without eating.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+One day Gerasim betook himself to a friend from his village, who lived
+at the extreme outer edge of Moscow, near Sokolnik. The man was
+coachman to a merchant by the name of Sharov, in whose service he had
+been for many years. He had ingratiated himself with his master, so
+that Sharov trusted him absolutely and gave every sign of holding him
+in high favour. It was the man's glib tongue, chiefly, that had gained
+him his master's confidence. He told on all the servants, and Sharov
+valued him for it.
+
+Gerasim approached and greeted him. The coachman gave his guest a
+proper reception, served him with tea and something to eat, and asked
+him how he was doing.
+
+"Very badly, Yegor Danilych," said Gerasim. "I've been without a job
+for weeks."
+
+"Didn't you ask your old employer to take you back?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"He wouldn't take you again?"
+
+"The position was filled already."
+
+"That's it. That's the way you young fellows are. You serve your
+employers so-so, and when you leave your jobs, you usually have
+muddied up the way back to them. You ought to serve your masters so
+that they will think a lot of you, and when you come again, they will
+not refuse you, but rather dismiss the man who has taken your place."
+
+"How can a man do that? In these days there aren't any employers like
+that, and we aren't exactly angels, either."
+
+"What's the use of wasting words? I just want to tell you about
+myself. If for some reason or other I should ever have to leave this
+place and go home, not only would Mr. Sharov, if I came back, take me
+on again without a word, but he would be glad to, too."
+
+Gerasim sat there downcast. He saw his friend was boasting, and it
+occurred to him to gratify him.
+
+"I know it," he said. "But it's hard to find men like you, Yegor
+Danilych. If you were a poor worker, your master would not have kept
+you twelve years."
+
+Yegor smiled. He liked the praise.
+
+"That's it," he said. "If you were to live and serve as I do, you
+wouldn't be out of work for months and months."
+
+Gerasim made no reply.
+
+Yegor was summoned to his master.
+
+"Wait a moment," he said to Gerasim. "I'll be right back."
+
+"Very well."
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Yegor came back and reported that inside of half an hour he would have
+to have the horses harnessed, ready to drive his master to town. He
+lighted his pipe and took several turns in the room. Then he came to a
+halt in front of Gerasim.
+
+"Listen, my boy," he said, "if you want, I'll ask my master to take
+you as a servant here."
+
+"Does he need a man?"
+
+"We have one, but he's not much good. He's getting old, and it's very
+hard for him to do the work. It's lucky for us that the neighbourhood
+isn't a lively one and the police don't make a fuss about things being
+kept just so, else the old man couldn't manage to keep the place clean
+enough for them."
+
+"Oh, if you can, then please do say a word for me, Yegor Danilych.
+I'll pray for you all my life. I can't stand being without work any
+longer."
+
+"All right, I'll speak for you. Come again to-morrow, and in the
+meantime take this ten-kopek piece. It may come in handy."
+
+"Thanks, Yegor Danilych. Then you _will_ try for me? Please do me the
+favour."
+
+"All right. I'll try for you."
+
+Gerasim left, and Yegor harnessed up his horses. Then he put on his
+coachman's habit, and drove up to the front door. Mr. Sharov stepped
+out of the house, seated himself in the sleigh, and the horses
+galloped off. He attended to his business in town and returned home.
+Yegor, observing that his master was in a good humour, said to him:
+
+"Yegor Fiodorych, I have a favour to ask of you."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"There's a young man from my village here, a good boy. He's without a
+job."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Wouldn't you take him?"
+
+"What do I want him for?"
+
+"Use him as man of all work round the place."
+
+"How about Polikarpych?"
+
+"What good is he? It's about time you dismissed him."
+
+"That wouldn't be fair. He has been with me so many years. I can't let
+him go just so, without any cause."
+
+"Supposing he _has_ worked for you for years. He didn't work for
+nothing. He got paid for it. He's certainly saved up a few dollars for
+his old age."
+
+"Saved up! How could he? From what? He's not alone in the world. He
+has a wife to support, and she has to eat and drink also."
+
+"His wife earns money, too, at day's work as charwoman."
+
+"A lot she could have made! Enough for _kvas_."
+
+"Why should you care about Polikarpych and his wife? To tell you the
+truth, he's a very poor servant. Why should you throw your money away
+on him? He never shovels the snow away on time, or does anything
+right. And when it comes his turn to be night watchman, he slips away
+at least ten times a night. It's too cold for him. You'll see, some
+day, because of him, you will have trouble with the police. The
+quarterly inspector will descend on us, and it won't be so agreeable
+for you to be responsible for Polikarpych."
+
+"Still, it's pretty rough. He's been with me fifteen years. And to
+treat him that way in his old age--it would be a sin."
+
+"A sin! Why, what harm would you be doing him? He won't starve. He'll
+go to the almshouse. It will be better for him, too, to be quiet in
+his old age."
+
+Sharov reflected.
+
+"All right," he said finally. "Bring your friend here. I'll see what I
+can do."
+
+"Do take him, sir. I'm so sorry for him. He's a good boy, and he's
+been without work for such a long time. I know he'll do his work well
+and serve you faithfully. On account of having to report for military
+duty, he lost his last position. If it hadn't been for that, his
+master would never have let him go."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+The next evening Gerasim came again and asked:
+
+"Well, could you do anything for me?"
+
+"Something, I believe. First let's have some tea. Then we'll go see my
+master."
+
+Even tea had no allurements for Gerasim. He was eager for a decision;
+but under the compulsion of politeness to his host, he gulped down two
+glasses of tea, and then they betook themselves to Sharov.
+
+Sharov asked Gerasim where he had lived before and what work he could
+do. Then he told him he was prepared to engage him as man of all work,
+and he should come back the next day ready to take the place.
+
+Gerasim was fairly stunned by the great stroke of fortune. So
+overwhelming was his joy that his legs would scarcely carry him. He
+went to the coachman's room, and Yegor said to him:
+
+"Well, my lad, see to it that you do your work right, so that I shan't
+have to be ashamed of you. You know what masters are like. If you go
+wrong once, they'll be at you forever after with their fault-finding,
+and never give you peace."
+
+"Don't worry about that, Yegor Danilych."
+
+"Well--well."
+
+Gerasim took leave, crossing the yard to go out by the gate.
+Polikarpych's rooms gave on the yard, and a broad beam of light from
+the window fell across Gerasim's way. He was curious to get a glimpse
+of his future home, but the panes were all frosted over, and it was
+impossible to peep through. However, he could hear what the people
+inside were saying.
+
+"What will we do now?" was said in a woman's voice.
+
+"I don't know, I don't know," a man, undoubtedly Polikarpych, replied.
+"Go begging, I suppose."
+
+"That's all we can do. There's nothing else left," said the woman.
+"Oh, we poor people, what a miserable life we lead. We work and work
+from early morning till late at night, day after day, and when we get
+old, then it's, 'Away with you!'"
+
+"What can we do? Our master is not one of us. It wouldn't be worth the
+while to say much to him about it. He cares only for his own
+advantage."
+
+"All the masters are so mean. They don't think of any one but
+themselves. It doesn't occur to them that we work for them honestly
+and faithfully for years, and use up our best strength in their
+service. They're afraid to keep us a year longer, even though we've
+got all the strength we need to do their work. If we weren't strong
+enough, we'd go of our own accord."
+
+"The master's not so much to blame as his coachman. Yegor Danilych
+wants to get a good position for his friend."
+
+"Yes, he's a serpent. He knows how to wag his tongue. You wait, you
+foul-mouthed beast, I'll get even with you. I'll go straight to the
+master and tell him how the fellow deceives him, how he steals the hay
+and fodder. I'll put it down in writing, and he can convince himself
+how the fellow lies about us all."
+
+"Don't, old woman. Don't sin."
+
+"Sin? Isn't what I said all true? I know to a dot what I'm saying, and
+I mean to tell it straight out to the master. He should see with his
+own eyes. Why not? What can we do now anyhow? Where shall we go? He's
+ruined us, ruined us."
+
+The old woman burst out sobbing.
+
+Gerasim heard all that, and it stabbed him like a dagger. He realised
+what misfortune he would be bringing the old people, and it made him
+sick at heart. He stood there a long while, saddened, lost in thought,
+then he turned and went back into the coachman's room.
+
+"Ah, you forgot something?"
+
+"No, Yegor Danilych." Gerasim stammered out, "I've come--listen--I
+want to thank you ever and ever so much--for the way you received
+me--and--and all the trouble you took for me--but--I can't take the
+place."
+
+"What! What does that mean?"
+
+"Nothing. I don't want the place. I will look for another one for
+myself."
+
+Yegor flew into a rage.
+
+"Did you mean to make a fool of me, did you, you idiot? You come here
+so meek--'Try for me, do try for me'--and then you refuse to take the
+place. You rascal, you have disgraced me!"
+
+Gerasim found nothing to say in reply. He reddened, and lowered his
+eyes. Yegor turned his back scornfully and said nothing more.
+
+Then Gerasim quietly picked up his cap and left the coachman's room.
+He crossed the yard rapidly, went out by the gate, and hurried off
+down the street. He felt happy and lighthearted.
+
+
+
+
+ONE AUTUMN NIGHT
+
+
+
+BY MAXIM GORKY
+
+
+Once in the autumn I happened to be in a very unpleasant and
+inconvenient position. In the town where I had just arrived and where
+I knew not a soul, I found myself without a farthing in my pocket and
+without a night's lodging.
+
+Having sold during the first few days every part of my costume without
+which it was still possible to go about, I passed from the town into
+the quarter called "Yste," where were the steamship wharves--a quarter
+which during the navigation season fermented with boisterous,
+laborious life, but now was silent and deserted, for we were in the
+last days of October.
+
+Dragging my feet along the moist sand, and obstinately scrutinising it
+with the desire to discover in it any sort of fragment of food, I
+wandered alone among the deserted buildings and warehouses, and
+thought how good it would be to get a full meal.
+
+In our present state of culture hunger of the mind is more quickly
+satisfied than hunger of the body. You wander about the streets, you
+are surrounded by buildings not bad-looking from the outside and--you
+may safely say it--not so badly furnished inside, and the sight of
+them may excite within you stimulating ideas about architecture,
+hygiene, and many other wise and high-flying subjects. You may meet
+warmly and neatly dressed folks--all very polite, and turning away
+from you tactfully, not wishing offensively to notice the lamentable
+fact of your existence. Well, well, the mind of a hungry man is always
+better nourished and healthier than the mind of the well-fed man; and
+there you have a situation from which you may draw a very ingenious
+conclusion in favour of the ill fed.
+
+The evening was approaching, the rain was falling, and the wind blew
+violently from the north. It whistled in the empty booths and shops,
+blew into the plastered window-panes of the taverns, and whipped into
+foam the wavelets of the river which splashed noisily on the sandy
+shore, casting high their white crests, racing one after another into
+the dim distance, and leaping impetuously over one another's
+shoulders. It seemed as if the river felt the proximity of winter, and
+was running at random away from the fetters of ice which the north
+wind might well have flung upon her that very night. The sky was heavy
+and dark; down from it swept incessantly scarcely visible drops of
+rain, and the melancholy elegy in nature all around me was emphasised
+by a couple of battered and misshapen willow-trees and a boat, bottom
+upwards, that was fastened to their roots.
+
+The overturned canoe with its battered keel and the miserable old
+trees rifled by the cold wind--everything around me was bankrupt,
+barren, and dead, and the sky flowed with undryable tears...
+Everything around was waste and gloomy ... it seemed as if everything
+were dead, leaving me alone among the living, and for me also a cold
+death waited.
+
+I was then eighteen years old--a good time!
+
+I walked and walked along the cold wet sand, making my chattering
+teeth warble in honour of cold and hunger, when suddenly, as I was
+carefully searching for something to eat behind one of the empty
+crates, I perceived behind it, crouching on the ground, a figure in
+woman's clothes dank with the rain and clinging fast to her stooping
+shoulders. Standing over her, I watched to see what she was doing. It
+appeared that she was digging a trench in the sand with her
+hands--digging away under one of the crates.
+
+"Why are you doing that?" I asked, crouching down on my heels quite
+close to her.
+
+She gave a little scream and was quickly on her legs again. Now that
+she stood there staring at me, with her wide-open grey eyes full of
+terror, I perceived that it was a girl of my own age, with a very
+pleasant face embellished unfortunately by three large blue marks.
+This spoilt her, although these blue marks had been distributed with a
+remarkable sense of proportion, one at a time, and all were of equal
+size--two under the eyes, and one a little bigger on the forehead just
+over the bridge of the nose. This symmetry was evidently the work of
+an artist well inured to the business of spoiling the human
+physiognomy.
+
+The girl looked at me, and the terror in her eyes gradually died
+out... She shook the sand from her hands, adjusted her cotton
+head-gear, cowered down, and said:
+
+"I suppose you too want something to eat? Dig away then! My hands are
+tired. Over there"--she nodded her head in the direction of a
+booth--"there is bread for certain ... and sausages too... That booth
+is still carrying on business."
+
+I began to dig. She, after waiting a little and looking at me, sat
+down beside me and began to help me.
+
+We worked in silence. I cannot say now whether I thought at that
+moment of the criminal code, of morality, of proprietorship, and all
+the other things about which, in the opinion of many experienced
+persons, one ought to think every moment of one's life. Wishing to
+keep as close to the truth as possible, I must confess that apparently
+I was so deeply engaged in digging under the crate that I completely
+forgot about everything else except this one thing: What could be
+inside that crate?
+
+The evening drew on. The grey, mouldy, cold fog grew thicker and
+thicker around us. The waves roared with a hollower sound than before,
+and the rain pattered down on the boards of that crate more loudly and
+more frequently. Somewhere or other the night-watchman began springing
+his rattle.
+
+"Has it got a bottom or not?" softly inquired my assistant. I did not
+understand what she was talking about, and I kept silence.
+
+"I say, has the crate got a bottom? If it has we shall try in vain to
+break into it. Here we are digging a trench, and we may, after all,
+come upon nothing but solid boards. How shall we take them off? Better
+smash the lock; it is a wretched lock."
+
+Good ideas rarely visit the heads of women, but, as you see, they do
+visit them sometimes. I have always valued good ideas, and have always
+tried to utilise them as far as possible.
+
+Having found the lock, I tugged at it and wrenched off the whole
+thing. My accomplice immediately stooped down and wriggled like a
+serpent into the gaping-open, four cornered cover of the crate whence
+she called to me approvingly, in a low tone:
+
+"You're a brick!"
+
+Nowadays a little crumb of praise from a woman is dearer to me than a
+whole dithyramb from a man, even though he be more eloquent than all
+the ancient and modern orators put together. Then, however, I was less
+amiably disposed than I am now, and, paying no attention to the
+compliment of my comrade, I asked her curtly and anxiously:
+
+"Is there anything?"
+
+In a monotonous tone she set about calculating our discoveries.
+
+"A basketful of bottles--thick furs--a sunshade--an iron pail."
+
+All this was uneatable. I felt that my hopes had vanished... But
+suddenly she exclaimed vivaciously:
+
+"Aha! here it is!"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Bread ... a loaf ... it's only wet ... take it!"
+
+A loaf flew to my feet and after it herself, my valiant comrade. I had
+already bitten off a morsel, stuffed it in my mouth, and was chewing
+it...
+
+"Come, give me some too!... And we mustn't stay here... Where shall we
+go?" she looked inquiringly about on all sides... It was dark, wet,
+and boisterous.
+
+"Look! there's an upset canoe yonder ... let us go there."
+
+"Let us go then!" And off we set, demolishing our booty as we went,
+and filling our mouths with large portions of it... The rain grew more
+violent, the river roared; from somewhere or other resounded a
+prolonged mocking whistle--just as if Someone great who feared nobody
+was whistling down all earthly institutions and along with them this
+horrid autumnal wind and us its heroes. This whistling made my heart
+throb painfully, in spite of which I greedily went on eating, and in
+this respect the girl, walking on my left hand, kept even pace with
+me.
+
+"What do they call you?" I asked her--why I know not.
+
+"Natasha," she answered shortly, munching loudly.
+
+I stared at her. My heart ached within me; and then I stared into the
+mist before me, and it seemed to me as if the inimical countenance of
+my Destiny was smiling at me enigmatically and coldly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The rain scourged the timbers of the skiff incessantly, and its soft
+patter induced melancholy thoughts, and the wind whistled as it flew
+down into the boat's battered bottom through a rift, where some loose
+splinters of wood were rattling together--a disquieting and depressing
+sound. The waves of the river were splashing on the shore, and sounded
+so monotonous and hopeless, just as if they were telling something
+unbearably dull and heavy, which was boring them into utter disgust,
+something from which they wanted to run away and yet were obliged to
+talk about all the same. The sound of the rain blended with their
+splashing, and a long-drawn sigh seemed to be floating above the
+overturned skiff--the endless, labouring sigh of the earth, injured
+and exhausted by the eternal changes from the bright and warm summer
+to the cold misty and damp autumn. The wind blew continually over the
+desolate shore and the foaming river--blew and sang its melancholy
+songs...
+
+Our position beneath the shelter of the skiff was utterly devoid of
+comfort; it was narrow and damp, tiny cold drops of rain dribbled
+through the damaged bottom; gusts of wind penetrated it. We sat in
+silence and shivered with cold. I remembered that I wanted to go to
+sleep. Natasha leaned her back against the hull of the boat and curled
+herself up into a tiny ball. Embracing her knees with her hands, and
+resting her chin upon them, she stared doggedly at the river with
+wide-open eyes; on the pale patch of her face they seemed immense,
+because of the blue marks below them. She never moved, and this
+immobility and silence--I felt it--gradually produced within me a
+terror of my neighbour. I wanted to talk to her, but I knew not how to
+begin.
+
+It was she herself who spoke.
+
+"What a cursed thing life is!" she exclaimed plainly, abstractedly,
+and in a tone of deep conviction.
+
+But this was no complaint. In these words there was too much of
+indifference for a complaint. This simple soul thought according to
+her understanding--thought and proceeded to form a certain conclusion
+which she expressed aloud, and which I could not confute for fear of
+contradicting myself. Therefore I was silent, and she, as if she had
+not noticed me, continued to sit there immovable.
+
+"Even if we croaked ... what then...?" Natasha began again, this time
+quietly and reflectively, and still there was not one note of
+complaint in her words. It was plain that this person, in the course
+of her reflections on life, was regarding her own case, and had
+arrived at the conviction that in order to preserve herself from the
+mockeries of life, she was not in a position to do anything else but
+simply "croak"--to use her own expression.
+
+The clearness of this line of thought was inexpressibly sad and
+painful to me, and I felt that if I kept silence any longer I was
+really bound to weep... And it would have been shameful to have done
+this before a woman, especially as she was not weeping herself. I
+resolved to speak to her.
+
+"Who was it that knocked you about?" I asked. For the moment I could
+not think of anything more sensible or more delicate.
+
+"Pashka did it all," she answered in a dull and level tone.
+
+"And who is he?"
+
+"My lover... He was a baker."
+
+"Did he beat you often?"
+
+"Whenever he was drunk he beat me... Often!"
+
+And suddenly, turning towards me, she began to talk about herself,
+Pashka, and their mutual relations. He was a baker with red moustaches
+and played very well on the banjo. He came to see her and greatly
+pleased her, for he was a merry chap and wore nice clean clothes. He
+had a vest which cost fifteen rubles and boots with dress tops. For
+these reasons she had fallen in love with him, and he became her
+"creditor." And when he became her creditor he made it his business to
+take away from her the money which her other friends gave to her for
+bonbons, and, getting drunk on this money, he would fall to beating
+her; but that would have been nothing if he hadn't also begun to "run
+after" other girls before her very eyes.
+
+"Now, wasn't that an insult? I am not worse than the others. Of course
+that meant that he was laughing at me, the blackguard. The day before
+yesterday I asked leave of my mistress to go out for a bit, went to
+him, and there I found Dimka sitting beside him drunk. And he, too,
+was half seas over. I said, 'You scoundrel, you!' And he gave me a
+thorough hiding. He kicked me and dragged me by the hair. But that was
+nothing to what came after. He spoiled everything I had on--left me
+just as I am now! How could I appear before my mistress? He spoiled
+everything ... my dress and my jacket too--it was quite a new one; I
+gave a fiver for it ... and tore my kerchief from my head... Oh, Lord!
+What will become of me now?" she suddenly whined in a lamentable
+overstrained voice.
+
+The wind howled, and became ever colder and more boisterous... Again
+my teeth began to dance up and down, and she, huddled up to avoid the
+cold, pressed as closely to me as she could, so that I could see the
+gleam of her eyes through the darkness.
+
+"What wretches all you men are! I'd burn you all in an oven; I'd cut
+you in pieces. If any one of you was dying I'd spit in his mouth, and
+not pity him a bit. Mean skunks! You wheedle and wheedle, you wag your
+tails like cringing dogs, and we fools give ourselves up to you, and
+it's all up with us! Immediately you trample us underfoot... Miserable
+loafers"
+
+She cursed us up and down, but there was no vigour, no malice, no
+hatred of these "miserable loafers" in her cursing that I could hear.
+The tone of her language by no means corresponded with its
+subject-matter, for it was calm enough, and the gamut of her voice was
+terribly poor.
+
+Yet all this made a stronger impression on me than the most eloquent
+and convincing pessimistic books and speeches, of which I had read a
+good many and which I still read to this day. And this, you see, was
+because the agony of a dying person is much more natural and violent
+than the most minute and picturesque descriptions of death.
+
+I felt really wretched--more from cold than from the words of my
+neighbour. I groaned softly and ground my teeth.
+
+Almost at the same moment I felt two little arms about me--one of them
+touched my neck and the other lay upon my face--and at the same time
+an anxious, gentle, friendly voice uttered the question:
+
+"What ails you?"
+
+I was ready to believe that some one else was asking me this and not
+Natasha, who had just declared that all men were scoundrels, and
+expressed a wish for their destruction. But she it was, and now she
+began speaking quickly, hurriedly.
+
+"What ails you, eh? Are you cold? Are you frozen? Ah, what a one you
+are, sitting there so silent like a little owl! Why, you should have
+told me long ago that you were cold. Come ... lie on the ground ...
+stretch yourself out and I will lie ... there! How's that? Now put
+your arms round me?... tighter! How's that? You shall be warm very
+soon now... And then we'll lie back to back... The night will pass so
+quickly, see if it won't. I say ... have you too been drinking?...
+Turned out of your place, eh?... It doesn't matter."
+
+And she comforted me... She encouraged me.
+
+May I be thrice accursed! What a world of irony was in this single
+fact for me! Just imagine! Here was I, seriously occupied at this very
+time with the destiny of humanity, thinking of the re-organisation of
+the social system, of political revolutions, reading all sorts of
+devilishly-wise books whose abysmal profundity was certainly
+unfathomable by their very authors--at this very time, I say, I was
+trying with all my might to make of myself "a potent active social
+force." It even seemed to me that I had partially accomplished my
+object; anyhow, at this time, in my ideas about myself, I had got so
+far as to recognise that I had an exclusive right to exist, that I had
+the necessary greatness to deserve to live my life, and that I was
+fully competent to play a great historical part therein. And a woman
+was now warming me with her body, a wretched, battered, hunted
+creature, who had no place and no value in life, and whom I had never
+thought of helping till she helped me herself, and whom I really would
+not have known how to help in any way even if the thought of it had
+occurred to me.
+
+Ah! I was ready to think that all this was happening to me in a
+dream--in a disagreeable, an oppressive dream.
+
+But, ugh! it was impossible for me to think that, for cold drops of
+rain were dripping down upon me, the woman was pressing close to me,
+her warm breath was fanning my face, and--despite a slight odor of
+vodka--it did me good. The wind howled and raged, the rain smote upon
+the skiff, the waves splashed, and both of us, embracing each other
+convulsively, nevertheless shivered with cold. All this was only too
+real, and I am certain that nobody ever dreamed such an oppressive and
+horrid dream as that reality.
+
+But Natasha was talking all the time of something or other, talking
+kindly and sympathetically, as only women can talk. Beneath the
+influence of her voice and kindly words a little fire began to burn up
+within me, and something inside my heart thawed in consequence.
+
+Then tears poured from my eyes like a hailstorm, washing away from my
+heart much that was evil, much that was stupid, much sorrow and dirt
+which had fastened upon it before that night. Natasha comforted me.
+
+"Come, come, that will do, little one! Don't take on! That'll do! God
+will give you another chance ... you will right yourself and stand in
+your proper place again ... and it will be all right..."
+
+And she kept kissing me ... many kisses did she give me ... burning
+kisses ... and all for nothing...
+
+Those were the first kisses from a woman that had ever been bestowed
+upon me, and they were the best kisses too, for all the subsequent
+kisses cost me frightfully dear, and really gave me nothing at all in
+exchange.
+
+"Come, don't take on so, funny one! I'll manage for you to-morrow if
+you cannot find a place." Her quiet persuasive whispering sounded in
+my ears as if it came through a dream...
+
+There we lay till dawn...
+
+And when the dawn came, we crept from behind the skiff and went into
+the town... Then we took friendly leave of each other and never met
+again, although for half a year I searched in every hole and corner
+for that kind Natasha, with whom I spent the autumn night just
+described.
+
+If she be already dead--and well for her if it were so--may she rest
+in peace! And if she be alive ... still I say "Peace to her soul!" And
+may the consciousness of her fall never enter her soul ... for that
+would be a superfluous and fruitless suffering if life is to be
+lived...
+
+
+
+
+HER LOVER
+
+
+
+BY MAXIM GORKY
+
+
+An acquaintance of mine once told me the following story.
+
+When I was a student at Moscow I happened to live alongside one of
+those ladies whose repute is questionable. She was a Pole, and they
+called her Teresa. She was a tallish, powerfully-built brunette, with
+black, bushy eyebrows and a large coarse face as if carved out by a
+hatchet--the bestial gleam of her dark eyes, her thick bass voice, her
+cabman-like gait and her immense muscular vigour, worthy of a
+fishwife, inspired me with horror. I lived on the top flight and her
+garret was opposite to mine. I never left my door open when I knew her
+to be at home. But this, after all, was a very rare occurrence.
+Sometimes I chanced to meet her on the staircase or in the yard, and
+she would smile upon me with a smile which seemed to me to be sly and
+cynical. Occasionally, I saw her drunk, with bleary eyes, tousled
+hair, and a particularly hideous grin. On such occasions she would
+speak to me.
+
+"How d'ye do, Mr. Student!" and her stupid laugh would still further
+intensify my loathing of her. I should have liked to have changed my
+quarters in order to have avoided such encounters and greetings; but
+my little chamber was a nice one, and there was such a wide view from
+the window, and it was always so quiet in the street below--so I
+endured.
+
+And one morning I was sprawling on my couch, trying to find some sort
+of excuse for not attending my class, when the door opened, and the
+bass voice of Teresa the loathsome resounded from my threshold:
+
+"Good health to you, Mr. Student!"
+
+"What do you want?" I said. I saw that her face was confused and
+supplicatory... It was a very unusual sort of face for her.
+
+"Sir! I want to beg a favour of you. Will you grant it me?"
+
+I lay there silent, and thought to myself:
+
+"Gracious!... Courage, my boy!"
+
+"I want to send a letter home, that's what it is," she said; her voice
+was beseeching, soft, timid.
+
+"Deuce take you!" I thought; but up I jumped, sat down at my table,
+took a sheet of paper, and said:
+
+"Come here, sit down, and dictate!"
+
+She came, sat down very gingerly on a chair, and looked at me with a
+guilty look.
+
+"Well, to whom do you want to write?"
+
+"To Boleslav Kashput, at the town of Svieptziana, on the Warsaw
+Road..."
+
+"Well, fire away!"
+
+"My dear Boles ... my darling ... my faithful lover. May the Mother of
+God protect thee! Thou heart of gold, why hast thou not written for
+such a long time to thy sorrowing little dove, Teresa?"
+
+I very nearly burst out laughing. "A sorrowing little dove!" more than
+five feet high, with fists a stone and more in weight, and as black a
+face as if the little dove had lived all its life in a chimney, and
+had never once washed itself! Restraining myself somehow, I asked:
+
+"Who is this Bolest?"
+
+"Boles, Mr. Student," she said, as if offended with me for blundering
+over the name, "he is Boles--my young man."
+
+"Young man!"
+
+"Why are you so surprised, sir? Cannot I, a girl, have a young man?"
+
+She? A girl? Well!
+
+"Oh, why not?" I said. "All things are possible. And has he been your
+young man long?"
+
+"Six years."
+
+"Oh, ho!" I thought. "Well, let us write your letter..."
+
+And I tell you plainly that I would willingly have changed places with
+this Boles if his fair correspondent had been not Teresa but something
+less than she.
+
+"I thank you most heartily, sir, for your kind services," said Teresa
+to me, with a curtsey. "Perhaps _I_ can show _you_ some service, eh?"
+
+"No, I most humbly thank you all the same."
+
+"Perhaps, sir, your shirts or your trousers may want a little
+mending?"
+
+I felt that this mastodon in petticoats had made me grow quite red
+with shame, and I told her pretty sharply that I had no need whatever
+of her services.
+
+She departed.
+
+A week or two passed away. It was evening. I was sitting at my window
+whistling and thinking of some expedient for enabling me to get away
+from myself. I was bored; the weather was dirty. I didn't want to go
+out, and out of sheer ennui I began a course of self-analysis and
+reflection. This also was dull enough work, but I didn't care about
+doing anything else. Then the door opened. Heaven be praised! Some one
+came in.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Student, you have no pressing business, I hope?"
+
+It was Teresa. Humph!
+
+"No. What is it?"
+
+"I was going to ask you, sir, to write me another letter."
+
+"Very well! To Boles, eh?"
+
+"No, this time it is from him."
+
+"Wha-at?"
+
+"Stupid that I am! It is not for me, Mr. Student, I beg your pardon.
+It is for a friend of mine, that is to say, not a friend but an
+acquaintance--a man acquaintance. He has a sweetheart just like me
+here, Teresa. That's how it is. Will you, sir, write a letter to this
+Teresa?"
+
+I looked at her--her face was troubled, her fingers were trembling. I
+was a bit fogged at first--and then I guessed how it was.
+
+"Look here, my lady," I said, "there are no Boleses or Teresas at all,
+and you've been telling me a pack of lies. Don't you come sneaking
+about me any longer. I have no wish whatever to cultivate your
+acquaintance. Do you understand?"
+
+And suddenly she grew strangely terrified and distraught; she began to
+shift from foot to foot without moving from the place, and spluttered
+comically, as if she wanted to say something and couldn't. I waited to
+see what would come of all this, and I saw and felt that, apparently,
+I had made a great mistake in suspecting her of wishing to draw me
+from the path of righteousness. It was evidently something very
+different.
+
+"Mr. Student!" she began, and suddenly, waving her hand, she turned
+abruptly towards the door and went out. I remained with a very
+unpleasant feeling in my mind. I listened. Her door was flung
+violently to--plainly the poor wench was very angry... I thought it
+over, and resolved to go to her, and, inviting her to come in here,
+write everything she wanted.
+
+I entered her apartment. I looked round. She was sitting at the table,
+leaning on her elbows, with her head in her hands.
+
+"Listen to me," I said.
+
+Now, whenever I come to this point in my story, I always feel horribly
+awkward and idiotic. Well, well!
+
+"Listen to me," I said.
+
+She leaped from her seat, came towards me with flashing eyes, and
+laying her hands on my shoulders, began to whisper, or rather to hum
+in her peculiar bass voice:
+
+"Look you, now! It's like this. There's no Boles at all, and there's
+no Teresa either. But what's that to you? Is it a hard thing for you
+to draw your pen over paper? Eh? Ah, and _you_, too! Still such a
+little fair-haired boy! There's nobody at all, neither Boles, nor
+Teresa, only me. There you have it, and much good may it do you!"
+
+"Pardon me!" said I, altogether flabbergasted by such a reception,
+"what is it all about? There's no Boles, you say?"
+
+"No. So it is."
+
+"And no Teresa either?"
+
+"And no Teresa. I'm Teresa."
+
+I didn't understand it at all. I fixed my eyes upon her, and tried to
+make out which of us was taking leave of his or her senses. But she
+went again to the table, searched about for something, came back to
+me, and said in an offended tone:
+
+"If it was so hard for you to write to Boles, look, there's your
+letter, take it! Others will write for me."
+
+I looked. In her hand was my letter to Boles. Phew!
+
+"Listen, Teresa! What is the meaning of all this? Why must you get
+others to write for you when I have already written it, and you
+haven't sent it?"
+
+"Sent it where?"
+
+"Why, to this--Boles."
+
+"There's no such person."
+
+I absolutely did not understand it. There was nothing for me but to
+spit and go. Then she explained.
+
+"What is it?" she said, still offended. "There's no such person, I
+tell you," and she extended her arms as if she herself did not
+understand why there should be no such person. "But I wanted him to
+be... Am I then not a human creature like the rest of them? Yes, yes,
+I know, I know, of course... Yet no harm was done to any one by my
+writing to him that I can see..."
+
+"Pardon me--to whom?"
+
+"To Boles, of course."
+
+"But he doesn't exist."
+
+"Alas! alas! But what if he doesn't? He doesn't exist, but he _might!_
+I write to him, and it looks as if he did exist. And Teresa--that's
+me, and he replies to me, and then I write to him again..."
+
+I understood at last. And I felt so sick, so miserable, so ashamed,
+somehow. Alongside of me, not three yards away, lived a human creature
+who had nobody in the world to treat her kindly, affectionately, and
+this human being had invented a friend for herself!
+
+"Look, now! you wrote me a letter to Boles, and I gave it to some one
+else to read it to me; and when they read it to me I listened and
+fancied that Boles was there. And I asked you to write me a letter
+from Boles to Teresa--that is to me. When they write such a letter for
+me, and read it to me, I feel quite sure that Boles is there. And life
+grows easier for me in consequence."
+
+"Deuce take you for a blockhead!" said I to myself when I heard this.
+
+And from thenceforth, regularly, twice a week, I wrote a letter to
+Boles, and an answer from Boles to Teresa. I wrote those answers
+well... She, of course, listened to them, and wept like anything,
+roared, I should say, with her bass voice. And in return for my thus
+moving her to tears by real letters from the imaginary Boles, she
+began to mend the holes I had in my socks, shirts, and other articles
+of clothing. Subsequently, about three months after this history
+began, they put her in prison for something or other. No doubt by this
+time she is dead.
+
+My acquaintance shook the ash from his cigarette, looked pensively up
+at the sky, and thus concluded:
+
+Well, well, the more a human creature has tasted of bitter things the
+more it hungers after the sweet things of life. And we, wrapped round
+in the rags of our virtues, and regarding others through the mist of
+our self-sufficiency, and persuaded of our universal impeccability, do
+not understand this.
+
+And the whole thing turns out pretty stupidly--and very cruelly. The
+fallen classes, we say. And who are the fallen classes, I should like
+to know? They are, first of all, people with the same bones, flesh,
+and blood and nerves as ourselves. We have been told this day after
+day for ages. And we actually listen--and the devil only knows how
+hideous the whole thing is. Or are we completely depraved by the loud
+sermonising of humanism? In reality, we also are fallen folks, and, so
+far as I can see, very deeply fallen into the abyss of
+self-sufficiency and the conviction of our own superiority. But enough
+of this. It is all as old as the hills--so old that it is a shame to
+speak of it. Very old indeed--yes, that's what it is!
+
+
+
+
+LAZARUS
+
+
+
+BY LEONID ANDREYEV
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+When Lazarus rose from the grave, after three days and nights in the
+mysterious thraldom of death, and returned alive to his home, it was a
+long time before any one noticed the evil peculiarities in him that
+were later to make his very name terrible. His friends and relatives
+were jubilant that he had come back to life. They surrounded him with
+tenderness, they were lavish of their eager attentions, spending the
+greatest care upon his food and drink and the new garments they made
+for him. They clad him gorgeously in the glowing colours of hope and
+laughter, and when, arrayed like a bridegroom, he sat at table with
+them again, ate again, and drank again, they wept fondly and summoned
+the neighbours to look upon the man miraculously raised from the dead.
+
+The neighbours came and were moved with joy. Strangers arrived from
+distant cities and villages to worship the miracle. They burst into
+stormy exclamations, and buzzed around the house of Mary and Martha,
+like so many bees.
+
+That which was new in Lazarus' face and gestures they explained
+naturally, as the traces of his severe illness and the shock he had
+passed through. It was evident that the disintegration of the body had
+been halted by a miraculous power, but that the restoration had not
+been complete; that death had left upon his face and body the effect
+of an artist's unfinished sketch seen through a thin glass. On his
+temples, under his eyes, and in the hollow of his cheek lay a thick,
+earthy blue. His fingers were blue, too, and under his nails, which
+had grown long in the grave, the blue had turned livid. Here and there
+on his lips and body, the skin, blistered in the grave, had burst open
+and left reddish glistening cracks, as if covered with a thin, glassy
+slime. And he had grown exceedingly stout. His body was horribly
+bloated and suggested the fetid, damp smell of putrefaction. But the
+cadaverous, heavy odour that clung to his burial garments and, as it
+seemed, to his very body, soon wore off, and after some time the blue
+of his hands and face softened, and the reddish cracks of his skin
+smoothed out, though they never disappeared completely. Such was the
+aspect of Lazarus in his second life. It looked natural only to those
+who had seen him buried.
+
+Not merely Lazarus' face, but his very character, it seemed, had
+changed; though it astonished no one and did not attract the attention
+it deserved. Before his death Lazarus had been cheerful and careless,
+a lover of laughter and harmless jest. It was because of his good
+humour, pleasant and equable, his freedom from meanness and gloom,
+that he had been so beloved by the Master. Now he was grave and
+silent; neither he himself jested nor did he laugh at the jests of
+others; and the words he spoke occasionally were simple, ordinary and
+necessary words--words as much devoid of sense and depth as are the
+sounds with which an animal expresses pain and pleasure, thirst and
+hunger. Such words a man may speak all his life and no one would ever
+know the sorrows and joys that dwelt within him.
+
+Thus it was that Lazarus sat at the festive table among his friends
+and relatives--his face the face of a corpse over which, for three
+days, death had reigned in darkness, his garments gorgeous and
+festive, glittering with gold, bloody-red and purple; his mien heavy
+and silent. He was horribly changed and strange, but as yet
+undiscovered. In high waves, now mild, now stormy, the festivities
+went on around him. Warm glances of love caressed his face, still cold
+with the touch of the grave; and a friend's warm hand patted his
+bluish, heavy hand. And the music played joyous tunes mingled of the
+sounds of the tympanum, the pipe, the zither and the dulcimer. It was
+as if bees were humming, locusts buzzing and birds singing over the
+happy home of Mary and Martha.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Some one recklessly lifted the veil. By one breath of an uttered word
+he destroyed the serene charm, and uncovered the truth in its ugly
+nakedness. No thought was clearly defined in his mind, when his lips
+smilingly asked: "Why do you not tell us, Lazarus, what was There?"
+And all became silent, struck with the question. Only now it seemed to
+have occurred to them that for three days Lazarus had been dead; and
+they looked with curiosity, awaiting an answer. But Lazarus remained
+silent.
+
+"You will not tell us?" wondered the inquirer. "Is it so terrible
+There?"
+
+Again his thought lagged behind his words. Had it preceded them, he
+would not have asked the question, for, at the very moment he uttered
+it, his heart sank with a dread fear. All grew restless; they awaited
+the words of Lazarus anxiously. But he was silent, cold and severe,
+and his eyes were cast down. And now, as if for the first time, they
+perceived the horrible bluishness of his face and the loathsome
+corpulence of his body. On the table, as if forgotten by Lazarus, lay
+his livid blue hand, and all eyes were riveted upon it, as though
+expecting the desired answer from that hand. The musicians still
+played; then silence fell upon them, too, and the gay sounds died
+down, as scattered coals are extinguished by water. The pipe became
+mute, and the ringing tympanum and the murmuring dulcimer; and as
+though a chord were broken, as though song itself were dying, the
+zither echoed a trembling broken sound. Then all was quiet.
+
+"You will not?" repeated the inquirer, unable to restrain his babbling
+tongue. Silence reigned, and the livid blue hand lay motionless. It
+moved slightly, and the company sighed with relief and raised their
+eyes. Lazarus, risen from the dead, was looking straight at them,
+embracing all with one glance, heavy and terrible.
+
+This was on the third day after Lazarus had arisen from the grave.
+Since then many had felt that his gaze was the gaze of destruction,
+but neither those who had been forever crushed by it, nor those who in
+the prime of life (mysterious even as death) had found the will to
+resist his glance, could ever explain the terror that lay immovable in
+the depths of his black pupils. He looked quiet and simple. One felt
+that he had no intention to hide anything, but also no intention to
+tell anything. His look was cold, as of one who is entirely
+indifferent to all that is alive. And many careless people who pressed
+around him, and did not notice him, later learned with wonder and fear
+the name of this stout, quiet man who brushed against them with his
+sumptuous, gaudy garments. The sun did not stop shining when he
+looked, neither did the fountain cease playing, and the Eastern sky
+remained cloudless and blue as always; but the man who fell under his
+inscrutable gaze could no longer feel the sun, nor hear the fountain,
+nor recognise his native sky. Sometimes he would cry bitterly,
+sometimes tear his hair in despair and madly call for help; but
+generally it happened that the men thus stricken by the gaze of
+Lazarus began to fade away listlessly and quietly and pass into a slow
+death lasting many long years. They died in the presence of everybody,
+colourless, haggard and gloomy, like trees withering on rocky ground.
+Those who screamed in madness sometimes came back to life; but the
+others, never.
+
+"So you will not tell us, Lazarus, what you saw There?" the inquirer
+repeated for the third time. But now his voice was dull, and a dead,
+grey weariness looked stupidly from out his eyes. The faces of all
+present were also covered by the same dead grey weariness like a mist.
+The guests stared at one another stupidly, not knowing why they had
+come together or why they sat around this rich table. They stopped
+talking, and vaguely felt it was time to leave; but they could not
+overcome the lassitude that spread through their muscles. So they
+continued to sit there, each one isolated, like little dim lights
+scattered in the darkness of night.
+
+The musicians were paid to play, and they again took up the
+instruments, and again played gay or mournful airs. But it was music
+made to order, always the same tunes, and the guests listened
+wonderingly. Why was this music necessary, they thought, why was it
+necessary and what good did it do for people to pull at strings and
+blow their cheeks into thin pipes, and produce varied and
+strange-sounding noises?
+
+"How badly they play!" said some one.
+
+The musicians were insulted and left. Then the guests departed one by
+one, for it was nearing night. And when the quiet darkness enveloped
+them, and it became easier to breathe, the image of Lazarus suddenly
+arose before each one in stern splendour. There he stood, with the
+blue face of a corpse and the raiment of a bridegroom, sumptuous and
+resplendent, in his eyes that cold stare in the depths of which lurked
+_The Horrible!_ They stood still as if turned into stone. The darkness
+surrounded them, and in the midst of this darkness flamed up the
+horrible apparition, the supernatural vision, of the one who for three
+days had lain under the measureless power of death. Three days he had
+been dead. Thrice had the sun risen and set--and he had lain dead. The
+children had played, the water had murmured as it streamed over the
+rocks, the hot dust had clouded the highway--and he had been dead. And
+now he was among men again--touched them--looked at them--_looked at
+them!_ And through the black rings of his pupils, as through dark
+glasses, the unfathomable _There_ gazed upon humanity.
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+No one took care of Lazarus, and no friends or kindred remained with
+him. Only the great desert, enfolding the Holy City, came close to the
+threshold of his abode. It entered his home, and lay down on his couch
+like a spouse, and put out all the fires. No one cared for Lazarus.
+One after the other went away, even his sisters, Mary and Martha. For
+a long while Martha did not want to leave him, for she knew not who
+would nurse him or take care of him; and she cried and prayed. But one
+night, when the wind was roaming about the desert, and the rustling
+cypress trees were bending over the roof, she dressed herself quietly,
+and quietly went away. Lazarus probably heard how the door was
+slammed--it had not shut properly and the wind kept knocking it
+continually against the post--but he did not rise, did not go out, did
+not try to find out the reason. And the whole night until the morning
+the cypress trees hissed over his head, and the door swung to and fro,
+allowing the cold, greedily prowling desert to enter his dwelling.
+Everybody shunned him as though he were a leper. They wanted to put a
+bell on his neck to avoid meeting him. But some one, turning pale,
+remarked it would be terrible if at night, under the windows, one
+should happen to hear Lazarus' bell, and all grew pale and assented.
+
+Since he did nothing for himself, he would probably have starved had
+not his neighbours, in trepidation, saved some food for him. Children
+brought it to him. They did not fear him, neither did they laugh at
+him in the innocent cruelty in which children often laugh at
+unfortunates. They were indifferent to him, and Lazarus showed the
+same indifference to them. He showed no desire to thank them for their
+services; he did not try to pat the dark hands and look into the
+simple shining little eyes. Abandoned to the ravages of time and the
+desert, his house was falling to ruins, and his hungry, bleating goats
+had long been scattered among his neighbours. His wedding garments had
+grown old. He wore them without changing them, as he had donned them
+on that happy day when the musicians played. He did not see the
+difference between old and new, between torn and whole. The brilliant
+colours were burnt and faded; the vicious dogs of the city and the
+sharp thorns of the desert had rent the fine clothes to shreds.
+
+During the day, when the sun beat down mercilessly upon all living
+things, and even the scorpions hid under the stones, convulsed with a
+mad desire to sting, he sat motionless in the burning rays, lifting
+high his blue face and shaggy wild beard.
+
+While yet the people were unafraid to speak to him, same one had asked
+him: "Poor Lazarus! Do you find it pleasant to sit so, and look at the
+sun?" And he answered: "Yes, it is pleasant."
+
+The thought suggested itself to people that the cold of the three days
+in the grave had been so intense, its darkness so deep, that there was
+not in all the earth enough heat or light to warm Lazarus and lighten
+the gloom of his eyes; and inquirers turned away with a sigh.
+
+And when the setting sun, flat and purple-red, descended to earth,
+Lazarus went into the desert and walked straight toward it, as though
+intending to reach it. Always he walked directly toward the sun, and
+those who tried to follow him and find out what he did at night in the
+desert had indelibly imprinted upon their mind's vision the black
+silhouette of a tall, stout man against the red background of an
+immense disk. The horrors of the night drove them away, and so they
+never found out what Lazarus did in the desert; but the image of the
+black form against the red was burned forever into their brains. Like
+an animal with a cinder in its eye which furiously rubs its muzzle
+against its paws, they foolishly rubbed their eyes; but the impression
+left by Lazarus was ineffaceable, forgotten only in death.
+
+There were people living far away who never saw Lazarus and only heard
+of him. With an audacious curiosity which is stronger than fear and
+feeds on fear, with a secret sneer in their hearts, some of them came
+to him one day as he basked in the sun, and entered into conversation
+with him. At that time his appearance had changed for the better and
+was not so frightful. At first the visitors snapped their fingers and
+thought disapprovingly of the foolish inhabitants of the Holy City.
+But when the short talk came to an end and they went home, their
+expression was such that the inhabitants of the Holy City at once knew
+their errand and said: "Here go some more madmen at whom Lazarus has
+looked." The speakers raised their hands in silent pity.
+
+Other visitors came, among them brave warriors in clinking armour, who
+knew not fear, and happy youths who made merry with laughter and song.
+Busy merchants, jingling their coins, ran in for awhile, and proud
+attendants at the Temple placed their staffs at Lazarus' door. But no
+one returned the same as he came. A frightful shadow fell upon their
+souls, and gave a new appearance to the old familiar world.
+
+Those who felt any desire to speak, after they had been stricken by
+the gaze of Lazarus, described the change that had come over them
+somewhat like this:
+
+_All objects seen by the eye and palpable to the hand became empty,
+light and transparent, as though they were light shadows in the
+darkness; and this darkness enveloped the whole universe. It was
+dispelled neither by the sun, nor by the moon, nor by the stars, but
+embraced the earth like a mother, and clothed it in a boundless black
+veil_.
+
+_Into all bodies it penetrated, even into iron and stone; and the
+particles of the body lost their unity and became lonely. Even to the
+heart of the particles it penetrated, and the particles of the
+particles became lonely_.
+
+_The vast emptiness which surrounds the universe, was not filled with
+things seen, with sun or moon or stars; it stretched boundless,
+penetrating everywhere, disuniting everything, body from body,
+particle from particle_.
+
+_In emptiness the trees spread their roots, themselves empty; in
+emptiness rose phantom temples, palaces and houses--all empty; and in
+the emptiness moved restless Man, himself empty and light, like a
+shadow_.
+
+_There was no more a sense of time; the beginning of all things and
+their end merged into one. In the very moment when a building was
+being erected and one could hear the builders striking with their
+hammers, one seemed already to see its ruins, and then emptiness where
+the ruins were_.
+
+_A man was just born, and funeral candles were already lighted at his
+head, and then were extinguished; and soon there was emptiness where
+before had been the man and the candles._
+
+_And surrounded by Darkness and Empty Waste, Man trembled hopelessly
+before the dread of the Infinite_.
+
+So spoke those who had a desire to speak. But much more could probably
+have been told by those who did not want to talk, and who died in
+silence.
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+At that time there lived in Rome a celebrated sculptor by the name of
+Aurelius. Out of clay, marble and bronze he created forms of gods and
+men of such beauty that this beauty was proclaimed immortal. But he
+himself was not satisfied, and said there was a supreme beauty that he
+had never succeeded in expressing in marble or bronze. "I have not yet
+gathered the radiance of the moon," he said; "I have not yet caught
+the glare of the sun. There is no soul in my marble, there is no life
+in my beautiful bronze." And when by moonlight he would slowly wander
+along the roads, crossing the black shadows of the cypress-trees, his
+white tunic flashing in the moonlight, those he met used to laugh
+good-naturedly and say: "Is it moonlight that you are gathering,
+Aurelius? Why did you not bring some baskets along?"
+
+And he, too, would laugh and point to his eyes and say: "Here are the
+baskets in which I gather the light of the moon and the radiance of
+the sun."
+
+And that was the truth. In his eyes shone moon and sun. But he could
+not transmit the radiance to marble. Therein lay the greatest tragedy
+of his life. He was a descendant of an ancient race of patricians, had
+a good wife and children, and except in this one respect, lacked
+nothing.
+
+When the dark rumour about Lazarus reached him, he consulted his wife
+and friends and decided to make the long voyage to Judea, in order
+that he might look upon the man miraculously raised from the dead. He
+felt lonely in those days and hoped on the way to renew his jaded
+energies. What they told him about Lazarus did not frighten him. He
+had meditated much upon death. He did not like it, nor did he like
+those who tried to harmonise it with life. On this side, beautiful
+life; on the other, mysterious death, he reasoned, and no better lot
+could befall a man than to live--to enjoy life and the beauty of
+living. And he already had conceived a desire to convince Lazarus of
+the truth of this view and to return his soul to life even as his body
+had been returned. This task did not appear impossible, for the
+reports about Lazarus, fearsome and strange as they were, did not tell
+the whole truth about him, but only carried a vague warning against
+something awful.
+
+Lazarus was getting up from a stone to follow in the path of the
+setting sun, on the evening when the rich Roman, accompanied by an
+armed slave, approached him, and in a ringing voice called to him:
+"Lazarus!"
+
+Lazarus saw a proud and beautiful face, made radiant by fame, and
+white garments and precious jewels shining in the sunlight. The ruddy
+rays of the sun lent to the head and face a likeness to dimly shining
+bronze--that was what Lazarus saw. He sank back to his seat
+obediently, and wearily lowered his eyes.
+
+"It is true you are not beautiful, my poor Lazarus," said the Roman
+quietly, playing with his gold chain. "You are even frightful, my poor
+friend; and death was not lazy the day when you so carelessly fell
+into its arms. But you are as fat as a barrel, and 'Fat people are not
+bad,' as the great Cæsar said. I do not understand why people are so
+afraid of you. You will permit me to stay with you over night? It is
+already late, and I have no abode."
+
+Nobody had ever asked Lazarus to be allowed to pass the night with
+him.
+
+"I have no bed," said he.
+
+"I am somewhat of a warrior and can sleep sitting," replied the Roman.
+"We shall make a light."
+
+"I have no light."
+
+"Then we will converse in the darkness like two friends. I suppose you
+have some wine?"
+
+"I have no wine."
+
+The Roman laughed.
+
+"Now I understand why you are so gloomy and why you do not like your
+second life. No wine? Well, we shall do without. You know there are
+words that go to one's head even as Falernian wine."
+
+With a motion of his head he dismissed the slave, and they were alone.
+And again the sculptor spoke, but it seemed as though the sinking sun
+had penetrated into his words. They faded, pale and empty, as if
+trembling on weak feet, as if slipping and falling, drunk with the
+wine of anguish and despair. And black chasms appeared between the two
+men--like remote hints of vast emptiness and vast darkness.
+
+"Now I am your guest and you will not ill-treat me, Lazarus!" said the
+Roman. "Hospitality is binding even upon those who have been three
+days dead. Three days, I am told, you were in the grave. It must have
+been cold there... and it is from there that you have brought this bad
+habit of doing without light and wine. I like a light. It gets dark so
+quickly here. Your eyebrows and forehead have an interesting line:
+even as the ruins of castles covered with the ashes of an earthquake.
+But why in such strange, ugly clothes? I have seen the bridegrooms of
+your country, they wear clothes like that--such ridiculous
+clothes--such awful garments... Are you a bridegroom?"
+
+Already the sun had disappeared. A gigantic black shadow was
+approaching fast from the west, as if prodigious bare feet were
+rustling over the sand. And the chill breezes stole up behind.
+
+"In the darkness you seem even bigger, Lazarus, as though you had
+grown stouter in these few minutes. Do you feed on darkness,
+perchance?... And I would like a light... just a small light... just a
+small light. And I am cold. The nights here are so barbarously cold...
+If it were not so dark, I should say you were looking at me, Lazarus.
+Yes, it seems, you are looking. You are looking. _You are looking at
+me!_... I feel it--now you are smiling."
+
+The night had come, and a heavy blackness filled the air.
+
+"How good it will be when the sun rises again to-morrow... You know I
+am a great sculptor... so my friends call me. I create, yes, they say
+I create, but for that daylight is necessary. I give life to cold
+marble. I melt the ringing bronze in the fire, in a bright, hot fire.
+Why did you touch me with your hand?"
+
+"Come," said Lazarus, "you are my guest." And they went into the
+house. And the shadows of the long evening fell on the earth...
+
+The slave at last grew tired waiting for his master, and when the sun
+stood high he came to the house. And he saw, directly under its
+burning rays, Lazarus and his master sitting close together. They
+looked straight up and were silent.
+
+The slave wept and cried aloud: "Master, what ails you, Master!"
+
+The same day Aurelius left for Rome. The whole way he was thoughtful
+and silent, attentively examining everything, the people, the ship,
+and the sea, as though endeavouring to recall something. On the sea a
+great storm overtook them, and all the while Aurelius remained on deck
+and gazed eagerly at the approaching and falling waves. When he
+reached home his family were shocked at the terrible change in his
+demeanour, but he calmed them with the words: "I have found it!"
+
+In the dusty clothes which he had worn during the entire journey and
+had not changed, he began his work, and the marble ringingly responded
+to the resounding blows of the hammer. Long and eagerly he worked,
+admitting no one. At last, one morning, he announced that the work was
+ready, and gave instructions that all his friends, and the severe
+critics and judges of art, be called together. Then he donned gorgeous
+garments, shining with gold, glowing with the purple of the byssin.
+
+"Here is what I have created," he said thoughtfully.
+
+His friends looked, and immediately the shadow of deep sorrow covered
+their faces. It was a thing monstrous, possessing none of the forms
+familiar to the eye, yet not devoid of a hint of some new unknown
+form. On a thin tortuous little branch, or rather an ugly likeness of
+one, lay crooked, strange, unsightly, shapeless heaps of something
+turned outside in, or something turned inside out--wild fragments
+which seemed to be feebly trying to get away from themselves. And,
+accidentally, under one of the wild projections, they noticed a
+wonderfully sculptured butterfly, with transparent wings, trembling as
+though with a weak longing to fly.
+
+"Why that wonderful butterfly, Aurelius?" timidly asked some one.
+
+"I do not know," answered the sculptor.
+
+The truth had to be told, and one of his friends, the one who loved
+Aurelius best, said: "This is ugly, my poor friend. It must be
+destroyed. Give me the hammer." And with two blows he destroyed the
+monstrous mass, leaving only the wonderfully sculptured butterfly.
+
+After that Aurelius created nothing. He looked with absolute
+indifference at marble and at bronze and at his own divine creations,
+in which dwelt immortal beauty. In the hope of breathing into him once
+again the old flame of inspiration, with the idea of awakening his
+dead soul, his friends led him to see the beautiful creations of
+others, but he remained indifferent and no smile warmed his closed
+lips. And only after they spoke to him much and long of beauty, he
+would reply wearily:
+
+"But all this is--a lie."
+
+And in the daytime, when the sun was shining, he would go into his
+rich and beautifully laid-out garden, and finding a place where there
+was no shadow, would expose his bare head and his dull eyes to the
+glitter and burning heat of the sun. Red and white butterflies
+fluttered around; down into the marble cistern ran splashing water
+from the crooked mouth of a blissfully drunken Satyr; but he sat
+motionless, like a pale shadow of that other one who, in a far land,
+at the very gates of the stony desert, also sat motionless under the
+fiery sun.
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+And it came about finally that Lazarus was summoned to Rome by the
+great Augustus.
+
+They dressed him in gorgeous garments as though it had been ordained
+that he was to remain a bridegroom to an unknown bride until the very
+day of his death. It was as if an old coffin, rotten and falling
+apart, were regilded over and over, and gay tassels were hung on it.
+And solemnly they conducted him in gala attire, as though in truth it
+were a bridal procession, the runners loudly sounding the trumpet that
+the way be made for the ambassadors of the Emperor. But the roads
+along which he passed were deserted. His entire native land cursed the
+execrable name of Lazarus, the man miraculously brought to life, and
+the people scattered at the mere report of his horrible approach. The
+trumpeters blew lonely blasts, and only the desert answered with a
+dying echo.
+
+Then they carried him across the sea on the saddest and most gorgeous
+ship that was ever mirrored in the azure waves of the Mediterranean.
+There were many people aboard, but the ship was silent and still as a
+coffin, and the water seemed to moan as it parted before the short
+curved prow. Lazarus sat lonely, baring his head to the sun, and
+listening in silence to the splashing of the waters. Further away the
+seamen and the ambassadors gathered like a crowd of distressed
+shadows. If a thunderstorm had happened to burst upon them at that
+time or the wind had overwhelmed the red sails, the ship would
+probably have perished, for none of those who were on her had strength
+or desire enough to fight for life. With supreme effort some went to
+the side of the ship and eagerly gazed at the blue, transparent abyss.
+Perhaps they imagined they saw a naiad flashing a pink shoulder
+through the waves, or an insanely joyous and drunken centaur galloping
+by, splashing up the water with his hoofs. But the sea was deserted
+and mute, and so was the watery abyss.
+
+Listlessly Lazarus set foot on the streets of the Eternal City, as
+though all its riches, all the majesty of its gigantic edifices, all
+the lustre and beauty and music of refined life, were simply the echo
+of the wind in the desert, or the misty images of hot running sand.
+Chariots whirled by; the crowd of strong, beautiful, haughty men
+passed on, builders of the Eternal City and proud partakers of its
+life; songs rang out; fountains laughed; pearly laughter of women
+filled the air, while the drunkard philosophised and the sober ones
+smilingly listened; horseshoes rattled on the pavement. And surrounded
+on all sides by glad sounds, a fat, heavy man moved through the centre
+of the city like a cold spot of silence, sowing in his path grief,
+anger and vague, carking distress. Who dared to be sad in Rome?
+indignantly demanded frowning citizens; and in two days the
+swift-tongued Rome knew of Lazarus, the man miraculously raised from
+the grave, and timidly evaded him.
+
+There were many brave men ready to try their strength, and at their
+senseless call Lazarus came obediently. The Emperor was so engrossed
+with state affairs that he delayed receiving the visitor, and for
+seven days Lazarus moved among the people.
+
+A jovial drunkard met him with a smile on his red lips. "Drink,
+Lazarus, drink!" he cried, "Would not Augustus laugh to see you
+drink!" And naked, besotted women laughed, and decked the blue hands
+of Lazarus with rose-leaves. But the drunkard looked into the eyes of
+Lazarus--and his joy ended forever. Thereafter he was always drunk. He
+drank no more, but was drunk all the time, shadowed by fearful dreams,
+instead of the joyous reveries that wine gives. Fearful dreams became
+the food of his broken spirit. Fearful dreams held him day and night
+in the mists of monstrous fantasy, and death itself was no more
+fearful than the apparition of its fierce precursor.
+
+Lazarus came to a youth and his lass who loved each other and were
+beautiful in their love. Proudly and strongly holding in his arms his
+beloved one, the youth said, with gentle pity: "Look at us, Lazarus,
+and rejoice with us. Is there anything stronger than love?"
+
+And Lazarus looked at them. And their whole life they continued to
+love one another, but their love became mournful and gloomy, even as
+those cypress trees over the tombs that feed their roots on the
+putrescence of the grave, and strive in vain in the quiet evening hour
+to touch the sky with their pointed tops. Hurled by fathomless
+life-forces into each other's arms, they mingled their kisses with
+tears, their joy with pain, and only succeeded in realising the more
+vividly a sense of their slavery to the silent Nothing. Forever
+united, forever parted, they flashed like sparks, and like sparks went
+out in boundless darkness.
+
+Lazarus came to a proud sage, and the sage said to him: "I already
+know all the horrors that you may tell me, Lazarus. With what else can
+you terrify me?"
+
+Only a few moments passed before the sage realised that the knowledge
+of the horrible is not the horrible, and that the sight of death is
+not death. And he felt that in the eyes of the Infinite wisdom and
+folly are the same, for the Infinite knows them not. And the
+boundaries between knowledge and ignorance, between truth and
+falsehood, between top and bottom, faded and his shapeless thought was
+suspended in emptiness. Then he grasped his grey head in his hands and
+cried out insanely: "I cannot think! I cannot think!"
+
+Thus it was that under the cool gaze of Lazarus, the man miraculously
+raised from the dead, all that serves to affirm life, its sense and
+its joys, perished. And people began to say it was dangerous to allow
+him to see the Emperor; that it were better to kill him and bury him
+secretly, and swear he had disappeared. Swords were sharpened and
+youths devoted to the welfare of the people announced their readiness
+to become assassins, when Augustus upset the cruel plans by demanding
+that Lazarus appear before him.
+
+Even though Lazarus could not be kept away, it was felt that the heavy
+impression conveyed by his face might be somewhat softened. With that
+end in view expert painters, barbers and artists were secured who
+worked the whole night on Lazarus' head. His beard was trimmed and
+curled. The disagreeable and deadly bluishness of his hands and face
+was covered up with paint; his hands were whitened, his cheeks rouged.
+The disgusting wrinkles of suffering that ridged his old face were
+patched up and painted, and on the smooth surface, wrinkles of
+good-nature and laughter, and of pleasant, good-humoured cheeriness,
+were laid on artistically with fine brushes.
+
+Lazarus submitted indifferently to all they did with him, and soon was
+transformed into a stout, nice-looking old man, for all the world a
+quiet and good-humoured grandfather of numerous grandchildren. He
+looked as though the smile with which he told funny stories had not
+left his lips, as though a quiet tenderness still lay hidden in the
+corner of his eyes. But the wedding-dress they did not dare to take
+off; and they could not change his eyes--the dark, terrible eyes from
+out of which stared the incomprehensible _There_.
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+Lazarus was untouched by the magnificence of the imperial apartments.
+He remained stolidly indifferent, as though he saw no contrast between
+his ruined house at the edge of the desert and the solid, beautiful
+palace of stone. Under his feet the hard marble of the floor took on
+the semblance of the moving sands of the desert, and to his eyes the
+throngs of gaily dressed, haughty men were as unreal as the emptiness
+of the air. They looked not into his face as he passed by, fearing to
+come under the awful bane of his eyes; but when the sound of his heavy
+steps announced that he had passed, heads were lifted, and eyes
+examined with timid curiosity the figure of the corpulent, tall,
+slightly stooping old man, as he slowly passed into the heart of the
+imperial palace. If death itself had appeared men would not have
+feared it so much; for hitherto death had been known to the dead only,
+and life to the living only, and between these two there had been no
+bridge. But this strange being knew death, and that knowledge of his
+was felt to be mysterious and cursed. "He will kill our great, divine
+Augustus," men cried with horror, and they hurled curses after him.
+Slowly and stolidly he passed them by, penetrating ever deeper into
+the palace.
+
+Caesar knew already who Lazarus was, and was prepared to meet him. He
+was a courageous man; he felt his power was invincible, and in the
+fateful encounter with the man "wonderfully raised from the dead" he
+refused to lean on other men's weak help. Man to man, face to face, he
+met Lazarus.
+
+"Do not fix your gaze on me, Lazarus," he commanded. "I have heard
+that your head is like the head of Medusa, and turns into stone all
+upon whom you look. But I should like to have a close look at you, and
+to talk to you before I turn into stone," he added in a spirit of
+playfulness that concealed his real misgivings.
+
+Approaching him, he examined closely Lazarus' face and his strange
+festive clothes. Though his eyes were sharp and keen, he was deceived
+by the skilful counterfeit.
+
+"Well, your appearance is not terrible, venerable sir. But all the
+worse for men, when the terrible takes on such a venerable and
+pleasant appearance. Now let us talk."
+
+Augustus sat down, and as much by glance as by words began the
+discussion. "Why did you not salute me when you entered?"
+
+Lazarus answered indifferently: "I did not know it was necessary."
+
+"You are a Christian?"
+
+"No."
+
+Augustus nodded approvingly. "That is good. I do not like the
+Christians. They shake the tree of life, forbidding it to bear fruit,
+and they scatter to the wind its fragrant blossoms. But who are you?"
+
+With some effort Lazarus answered: "I was dead."
+
+"I heard about that. But who are you now?"
+
+Lazarus' answer came slowly. Finally he said again, listlessly and
+indistinctly: "I was dead."
+
+"Listen to me, stranger," said the Emperor sharply, giving expression
+to what had been in his mind before. "My empire is an empire of the
+living; my people are a people of the living and not of the dead. You
+are superfluous here. I do not know who you are, I do not know what
+you have seen There, but if you lie, I hate your lies, and if you tell
+the truth, I hate your truth. In my heart I feel the pulse of life; in
+my hands I feel power, and my proud thoughts, like eagles, fly through
+space. Behind my back, under the protection of my authority, under the
+shadow of the laws I have created, men live and labour and rejoice. Do
+you hear this divine harmony of life? Do you hear the war cry that men
+hurl into the face of the future, challenging it to strife?"
+
+Augustus extended his arms reverently and solemnly cried out: "Blessed
+art thou, Great Divine Life!"
+
+But Lazarus was silent, and the Emperor continued more severely: "You
+are not wanted here. Pitiful remnant, half devoured of death, you fill
+men with distress and aversion to life. Like a caterpillar on the
+fields, you are gnawing away at the full seed of joy, exuding the
+slime of despair and sorrow. Your truth is like a rusted sword in the
+hands of a night assassin, and I shall condemn you to death as an
+assassin. But first I want to look into your eyes. Mayhap only cowards
+fear them, and brave men are spurred on to struggle and victory. Then
+will you merit not death but a reward. Look at me, Lazarus."
+
+At first it seemed to divine Augustus as if a friend were looking at
+him, so soft, so alluring, so gently fascinating was the gaze of
+Lazarus. It promised not horror but quiet rest, and the Infinite dwelt
+there as a fond mistress, a compassionate sister, a mother. And ever
+stronger grew its gentle embrace, until he felt, as it were, the
+breath of a mouth hungry for kisses... Then it seemed as if iron bones
+protruded in a ravenous grip, and closed upon him in an iron band; and
+cold nails touched his heart, and slowly, slowly sank into it.
+
+"It pains me," said divine Augustus, growing pale; "but look, Lazarus,
+look!"
+
+Ponderous gates, shutting off eternity, appeared to be slowly swinging
+open, and through the growing aperture poured in, coldly and calmly,
+the awful horror of the Infinite. Boundless Emptiness and Boundless
+Gloom entered like two shadows, extinguishing the sun, removing the
+ground from under the feet, and the cover from over the head. And the
+pain in his icy heart ceased.
+
+"Look at me, look at me, Lazarus!" commanded Augustus, staggering...
+
+Time ceased and the beginning of things came perilously near to the
+end. The throne of Augustus, so recently erected, fell to pieces, and
+emptiness took the place of the throne and of Augustus. Rome fell
+silently into ruins. A new city rose in its place, and it too was
+erased by emptiness. Like phantom giants, cities, kingdoms, and
+countries swiftly fell and disappeared into emptiness--swallowed up in
+the black maw of the Infinite...
+
+"Cease," commanded the Emperor. Already the accent of indifference was
+in his voice. His arms hung powerless, and his eagle eyes flashed and
+were dimmed again, struggling against overwhelming darkness.
+
+"You have killed me, Lazarus," he said drowsily.
+
+These words of despair saved him. He thought of the people, whose
+shield he was destined to be, and a sharp, redeeming pang pierced his
+dull heart. He thought of them doomed to perish, and he was filled
+with anguish. First they seemed bright shadows in the gloom of the
+Infinite.--How terrible! Then they appeared as fragile vessels with
+life-agitated blood, and hearts that knew both sorrow and great
+joy.--And he thought of them with tenderness.
+
+And so thinking and feeling, inclining the scales now to the side of
+life, now to the side of death, he slowly returned to life, to find in
+its suffering and joy a refuge from the gloom, emptiness and fear of
+the Infinite.
+
+"No, you did not kill me, Lazarus," said he firmly. "But I will kill
+you. Go!"
+
+Evening came and divine Augustus partook of food and drink with great
+joy. But there were moments when his raised arm would remain suspended
+in the air, and the light of his shining, eager eyes was dimmed. It
+seemed as if an icy wave of horror washed against his feet. He was
+vanquished but not killed, and coldly awaited his doom, like a black
+shadow. His nights were haunted by horror, but the bright days still
+brought him the joys, as well as the sorrows, of life.
+
+Next day, by order of the Emperor, they burned out Lazarus' eyes with
+hot irons and sent him home. Even Augustus dared not kill him.
+
+      *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lazarus returned to the desert and the desert received him with the
+breath of the hissing wind and the ardour of the glowing sun. Again he
+sat on the stone with matted beard uplifted; and two black holes,
+where the eyes had once been, looked dull and horrible at the sky. In
+the distance the Holy City surged and roared restlessly, but near him
+all was deserted and still. No one approached the place where Lazarus,
+miraculously raised from the dead, passed his last days, for his
+neighbours had long since abandoned their homes. His cursed knowledge,
+driven by the hot irons from his eyes deep into the brain, lay there
+in ambush; as if from ambush it might spring out upon men with a
+thousand unseen eyes. No one dared to look at Lazarus.
+
+And in the evening, when the sun, swollen crimson and growing larger,
+bent its way toward the west, blind Lazarus slowly groped after it. He
+stumbled against stones and fell; corpulent and feeble, he rose
+heavily and walked on; and against the red curtain of sunset his dark
+form and outstretched arms gave him the semblance of a cross.
+
+It happened once that he went and never returned. Thus ended the
+second life of Lazarus, who for three days had been in the mysterious
+thraldom of death and then was miraculously raised from the dead.
+
+
+
+
+THE REVOLUTIONIST
+
+
+
+BY MICHAÏL P. ARTZYBASHEV
+
+
+I
+
+
+Gabriel Andersen, the teacher, walked to the edge of the school
+garden, where he paused, undecided what to do. Off in the distance,
+two miles away, the woods hung like bluish lace over a field of pure
+snow. It was a brilliant day. A hundred tints glistened on the white
+ground and the iron bars of the garden railing. There was a lightness
+and transparency in the air that only the days of early spring
+possess. Gabriel Andersen turned his steps toward the fringe of blue
+lace for a tramp in the woods.
+
+"Another spring in my life," he said, breathing deep and peering up at
+the heavens through his spectacles. Andersen was rather given to
+sentimental poetising. He walked with his hands folded behind him,
+dangling his cane.
+
+He had gone but a few paces when he noticed a group of soldiers and
+horses on the road beyond the garden rail. Their drab uniforms stood
+out dully against the white of the snow, but their swords and horses'
+coats tossed back the light. Their bowed cavalry legs moved awkwardly
+on the snow. Andersen wondered what they were doing there. Suddenly the
+nature of their business flashed upon him. It was an ugly errand they
+were upon, an instinct rather that his reason told him. Something
+unusual and terrible was to happen. And the same instinct told him he
+must conceal himself from the soldiers. He turned to the left quickly,
+dropped on his knees, and crawled on the soft, thawing, crackling snow
+to a low haystack, from behind which, by craning his neck, he could
+watch what the soldiers were doing.
+
+There were twelve of them, one a stocky young officer in a grey cloak
+caught in prettily at the waist by a silver belt. His face was so red
+that even at that distance Andersen caught the odd, whitish gleam of
+his light protruding moustache and eyebrows against the vivid colour
+of his skin. The broken tones of his raucous voice reached distinctly
+to where the teacher, listening intently, lay hidden.
+
+"I know what I am about. I don't need anybody's advice," the officer
+cried. He clapped his arms akimbo and looked down at some one among
+the group of bustling soldiers. "I'll show you how to be a rebel, you
+damned skunk."
+
+Andersen's heart beat fast. "Good heavens!" he thought. "Is it
+possible?" His head grew chill as if struck by a cold wave.
+
+"Officer," a quiet, restrained, yet distinct voice came from among the
+soldiers, "you have no right--It's for the court to decide--you aren't
+a judge--it's plain murder, not--" "Silence!" thundered the officer,
+his voice choking with rage. "I'll give you a court. Ivanov, go
+ahead."
+
+He put the spurs to his horse and rode away. Gabriel Andersen
+mechanically observed how carefully the horse picked its way, placing
+its feet daintily as if for the steps of a minuet. Its ears were
+pricked to catch every sound. There was momentary bustle and
+excitement among the soldiers. Then they dispersed in different
+directions, leaving three persons in black behind, two tall men and
+one very short and frail. Andersen could see the hair of the short
+one's head. It was very light. And he saw his rosy ears sticking out
+on each side.
+
+Now he fully understood what was to happen. But it was a thing so out
+of the ordinary, so horrible, that he fancied he was dreaming.
+
+"It's so bright, so beautiful--the snow, the field, the woods, the
+sky. The breath of spring is upon everything. Yet people are going to
+be killed. How can it be? Impossible!" So his thoughts ran in
+confusion. He had the sensation of a man suddenly gone insane, who
+finds he sees, hears and feels what he is not accustomed to, and ought
+not hear, see and feel.
+
+The three men in black stood next to one another hard by the railing,
+two quite close together, the short one some distance away.
+
+"Officer!" one of them cried in a desperate voice--Andersen could not
+see which it was--"God sees us! Officer!"
+
+Eight soldiers dismounted quickly, their spurs and sabres catching
+awkwardly. Evidently they were in a hurry, as if doing a thief's job.
+
+Several seconds passed in silence until the soldiers placed themselves
+in a row a few feet from the black figures and levelled their guns. In
+doing so one soldier knocked his cap from his head. He picked it up
+and put it on again without brushing off the wet snow.
+
+The officer's mount still kept dancing on one spot with his ears
+pricked, while the other horses, also with sharp ears erect to catch
+every sound, stood motionless looking at the men in black, their long
+wise heads inclined to one side.
+
+"Spare the boy at least!" another voice suddenly pierced the air. "Why
+kill a child, damn you! What has the child done?"
+
+"Ivanov, do what I told you to do," thundered the officer, drowning
+the other voice. His face turned as scarlet as a piece of red flannel.
+
+There followed a scene savage and repulsive in its gruesomeness. The
+short figure in black, with the light hair and the rosy ears, uttered
+a wild shriek in a shrill child's tones and reeled to one side.
+Instantly it was caught up by two or three soldiers. But the boy began
+to struggle, and two more soldiers ran up.
+
+"Ow-ow-ow-ow!" the boy cried. "Let me go, let me go! Ow-ow!"
+
+His shrill voice cut the air like the yell of a stuck porkling not
+quite done to death. Suddenly he grew quiet. Some one must have struck
+him. An unexpected, oppressive silence ensued. The boy was being
+pushed forward. Then there came a deafening report. Andersen started
+back all in a tremble. He saw distinctly, yet vaguely as in a dream,
+the dropping of two dark bodies, the flash of pale sparks, and a light
+smoke rising in the clean, bright atmosphere. He saw the soldiers
+hastily mounting their horses without even glancing at the bodies. He
+saw them galloping along the muddy road, their arms clanking, their
+horses' hoofs clattering.
+
+He saw all this, himself now standing in the middle of the road, not
+knowing when and why he had jumped from behind the haystack. He was
+deathly pale. His face was covered with dank sweat, his body was
+aquiver. A physical sadness smote and tortured him. He could not make
+out the nature of the feeling. It was akin to extreme sickness, though
+far more nauseating and terrible.
+
+After the soldiers had disappeared beyond the bend toward the woods,
+people came hurrying to the spot of the shooting, though till then not
+a soul had been in sight.
+
+The bodies lay at the roadside on the other side of the railing, where
+the snow was clean, brittle and untrampled and glistened cheerfully in
+the bright atmosphere. There were three dead bodies, two men and a
+boy. The boy lay with his long soft neck stretched on the snow. The
+face of the man next to the boy was invisible. He had fallen face
+downward in a pool of blood. The third was a big man with a black
+beard and huge, muscular arms. He lay stretched out to the full length
+of his big body, his arms extended over a large area of blood-stained
+snow.
+
+The three men who had been shot lay black against the white snow,
+motionless. From afar no one could have told the terror that was in
+their immobility as they lay there at the edge of the narrow road
+crowded with people.
+
+That night Gabriel Andersen in his little room in the schoolhouse did
+not write poems as usual. He stood at the window and looked at the
+distant pale disk of the moon in the misty blue sky, and thought. And
+his thoughts were confused, gloomy, and heavy as if a cloud had
+descended upon his brain.
+
+Indistinctly outlined in the dull moonlight he saw the dark railing,
+the trees, the empty garden. It seemed to him that he beheld them--the
+three men who had been shot, two grown up, one a child. They were
+lying there now at the roadside, in the empty, silent field, looking
+at the far-off cold moon with their dead, white eyes as he with his
+living eyes.
+
+"The time will come some day," he thought, "when the killing of people
+by others will be an utter impossibility. The time will come when even
+the soldiers and officers who killed these three men will realise what
+they have done and will understand that what they killed them for is
+just as necessary, important, and dear to them--to the officers and
+soldiers--as to those whom they killed."
+
+"Yes," he said aloud and solemnly, his eyes moistening, "that time
+will come. They will understand." And the pale disk of the moon was
+blotted out by the moisture in his eyes.
+
+A large pity pierced his heart for the three victims whose eyes looked
+at the moon, sad and unseeing. A feeling of rage cut him as with a
+sharp knife and took possession of him.
+
+But Gabriel Andersen quieted his heart, whispering softly, "They know
+not what they do." And this old and ready phrase gave him the strength
+to stifle his rage and indignation.
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The day was as bright and white, but the spring was already advanced.
+The wet soil smelt of spring. Clear cold water ran everywhere from
+under the loose, thawing snow. The branches of the trees were springy
+and elastic. For miles and miles around, the country opened up in
+clear azure stretches.
+
+Yet the clearness and the joy of the spring day were not in the
+village. They were somewhere outside the village, where there were no
+people--in the fields, the woods and the mountains. In the village the
+air was stifling, heavy and terrible as in a nightmare.
+
+Gabriel Andersen stood in the road near a crowd of dark, sad,
+absent-minded people and craned his neck to see the preparations for
+the flogging of seven peasants.
+
+They stood in the thawing snow, and Gabriel Andersen could not
+persuade himself that they were people whom he had long known and
+understood. By that which was about to happen to them, the shameful,
+terrible, ineradicable thing that was to happen to them, they were
+separated from all the rest of the world, and so were unable to feel
+what he, Gabriel Andersen, felt, just as he was unable to feel what
+they felt. Round them were the soldiers, confidently and beautifully
+mounted on high upon their large steeds, who tossed their wise heads
+and turned their dappled wooden faces slowly from side to side,
+looking contemptuously at him, Gabriel Andersen, who was soon to
+behold this horror, this disgrace, and would do nothing, would not
+dare to do anything. So it seemed to Gabriel Andersen; and a sense of
+cold, intolerable shame gripped him as between two clamps of ice
+through which he could see everything without being able to move, cry
+out or utter a groan.
+
+They took the first peasant. Gabriel Andersen saw his strange,
+imploring, hopeless look. His lips moved, but no sound was heard, and
+his eyes wandered. There was a bright gleam in them as in the eyes of
+a madman. His mind, it was evident, was no longer able to comprehend
+what was happening.
+
+And so terrible was that face, at once full of reason and of madness,
+that Andersen felt relieved when they put him face downward on the
+snow and, instead of the fiery eyes, he saw his bare back
+glistening--a senseless, shameful, horrible sight.
+
+The large, red-faced soldier in a red cap pushed toward him, looked
+down at his body with seeming delight, and then cried in a clear
+voice:
+
+"Well, let her go, with God's blessing!"
+
+Andersen seemed not to see the soldiers, the sky, the horses or the
+crowd. He did not feel the cold, the terror or the shame. He did not
+hear the swish of the knout in the air or the savage howl of pain and
+despair. He only saw the bare back of a man's body swelling up and
+covered over evenly with white and purple stripes. Gradually the bare
+back lost the semblance of human flesh. The blood oozed and squirted,
+forming patches, drops and rivulets, which ran down on the white,
+thawing snow.
+
+Terror gripped the soul of Gabriel Andersen as he thought of the
+moment when the man would rise and face all the people who had seen
+his body bared out in the open and reduced to a bloody pulp. He closed
+his eyes. When he opened them, he saw four soldiers in uniform and red
+hats forcing another man down on the snow, his back bared just as
+shamefully, terribly and absurdly--a ludicrously tragic sight.
+
+Then came the third, the fourth, and so on, to the end.
+
+And Gabriel Andersen stood on the wet, thawing snow, craning his neck,
+trembling and stuttering, though he did not say a word. Dank sweat
+poured from his body. A sense of shame permeated his whole being. It
+was a humiliating feeling, having to escape being noticed so that they
+should not catch him and lay him there on the snow and strip him
+bare--him, Gabriel Andersen.
+
+The soldiers pressed and crowded, the horses tossed their heads, the
+knout swished in the air, and the bare, shamed human flesh swelled up,
+tore, ran over with blood, and curled like a snake. Oaths, wild
+shrieks rained upon the village through the clean white air of that
+spring day.
+
+Andersen now saw five men's faces at the steps of the town hall, the
+faces of those men who had already undergone their shame. He quickly
+turned his eyes away. After seeing this a man must die, he thought.
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+There were seventeen of them, fifteen soldiers, a subaltern and a
+young beardless officer. The officer lay in front of the fire looking
+intently into the flames. The soldiers were tinkering with the
+firearms in the wagon.
+
+Their grey figures moved about quietly on the black thawing ground,
+and occasionally stumbled across the logs sticking out from the
+blazing fire.
+
+Gabriel Andersen, wearing an overcoat and carrying his cane behind his
+back, approached them. The subaltern, a stout fellow with a moustache,
+jumped up, turned from the fire, and looked at him.
+
+"Who are you? What do you want?" he asked excitedly. From his tone it
+was evident that the soldiers feared everybody in that district,
+through which they went scattering death, destruction and torture.
+
+"Officer," he said, "there is a man here I don't know."
+
+The officer looked at Andersen without speaking.
+
+"Officer," said Andersen in a thin, strained voice, "my name is
+Michelson. I am a business man here, and I am going to the village on
+business. I was afraid I might be mistaken for some one else--you
+know."
+
+"Then what are you nosing about here for?" the officer said angrily,
+and turned away.
+
+"A business man," sneered a soldier. "He ought to be searched, this
+business man ought, so as not to be knocking about at night. A good
+one in the jaw is what he needs."
+
+"He's a suspicious character, officer," said the subaltern. "Don't you
+think we'd better arrest him, what?"
+
+"Don't," answered the officer lazily. "I'm sick of them, damn 'em."
+
+Gabriel Andersen stood there without saying anything. His eyes flashed
+strangely in the dark by the firelight. And it was strange to see his
+short, substantial, clean, neat figure in the field at night among the
+soldiers, with his overcoat and cane and glasses glistening in the
+firelight.
+
+The soldiers left him and walked away. Gabriel Andersen remained
+standing for a while. Then he turned and left, rapidly disappearing in
+the darkness.
+
+The night was drawing to a close. The air turned chilly, and the tops
+of the bushes defined themselves more clearly in the dark. Gabriel
+Andersen went again to the military post. But this time he hid,
+crouching low as he made his way under the cover of the bushes. Behind
+him people moved about quietly and carefully, bending the bushes,
+silent as shadows. Next to Gabriel, on his right, walked a tall man
+with a revolver in his hand.
+
+The figure of a soldier on the hill outlined itself strangely,
+unexpectedly, not where they had been looking for it. It was faintly
+illumined by the gleam from the dying fire. Gabriel Andersen
+recognised the soldier. It was the one who had proposed that he should
+be searched. Nothing stirred in Andersen's heart. His face was cold
+and motionless, as of a man who is asleep. Round the fire the soldiers
+lay stretched out sleeping, all except the subaltern, who sat with his
+head drooping over his knees.
+
+The tall thin man on Andersen's right raised the revolver and pulled
+the trigger. A momentary blinding flash, a deafening report.
+
+Andersen saw the guard lift his hands and then sit down on the ground
+clasping his bosom. From all directions short, crackling sparks
+flashed up which combined into one riving roar. The subaltern jumped
+up and dropped straight into the fire. Grey soldiers' figures moved
+about in all directions like apparitions, throwing up their hands and
+falling and writhing on the black earth. The young officer ran past
+Andersen, fluttering his hands like some strange, frightened bird.
+Andersen, as if he were thinking of something else, raised his cane.
+With all his strength he hit the officer on the head, each blow
+descending with a dull, ugly thud. The officer reeled in a circle,
+struck a bush, and sat down after the second blow, covering his head
+with both hands, as children do. Some one ran up and discharged a
+revolver as if from Andersen's own hand. The officer sank together in
+a heap and lunged with great force head foremost on the ground. His
+legs twitched for a while, then he curled up quietly.
+
+The shots ceased. Black men with white faces, ghostly grey in the
+dark, moved about the dead bodies of the soldiers, taking away their
+arms and ammunition.
+
+Andersen watched all this with a cold, attentive stare. When all was
+over, he went up, took hold of the burned subaltern's legs, and tried
+to remove the body from the fire. But it was too heavy for him, and he
+let it go.
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+Andersen sat motionless on the steps of the town hall, and thought. He
+thought of how he, Gabriel Andersen, with his spectacles, cane,
+overcoat and poems, had lied and betrayed fifteen men. He thought it
+was terrible, yet there was neither pity, shame nor regret in his
+heart. Were he to be set free, he knew that he, Gabriel Andersen, with
+the spectacles and poems, would go straightway and do it again. He
+tried to examine himself, to see what was going on inside his soul.
+But his thoughts were heavy and confused. For some reason it was more
+painful for him to think of the three men lying on the snow, looking
+at the pale disk of the far-off moon with their dead, unseeing eyes,
+than of the murdered officer whom he had struck two dry, ugly blows on
+the head. Of his own death he did not think. It seemed to him that he
+had done with everything long, long ago. Something had died, had gone
+out and left him empty, and he must not think about it.
+
+And when they grabbed him by the shoulder and he rose, and they
+quickly led him through the garden where the cabbages raised their dry
+heads, he could not formulate a single thought.
+
+He was conducted to the road and placed at the railing with his back
+to one of the iron bars. He fixed his spectacles, put his hands behind
+him, and stood there with his neat, stocky body, his head slightly
+inclined to one side.
+
+At the last moment he looked in front of him and saw rifle barrels
+pointing at his head, chest and stomach, and pale faces with trembling
+lips. He distinctly saw how one barrel levelled at his forehead
+suddenly dropped.
+
+Something strange and incomprehensible, as if no longer of this world,
+no longer earthly, passed through Andersen's mind. He straightened
+himself to the full height of his short body and threw back his head
+in simple pride. A strange indistinct sense of cleanness, strength and
+pride filled his soul, and everything--the sun and the sky and the
+people and the field and death--seemed to him insignificant, remote
+and useless.
+
+The bullets hit him in the chest, in the left eye, in the stomach,
+went through his clean coat buttoned all the way up. His glasses
+shivered into bits. He uttered a shriek, circled round, and fell with
+his face against one of the iron bars, his one remaining eye wide
+open. He clawed the ground with his outstretched hands as if trying to
+support himself.
+
+The officer, who had turned green, rushed toward him, and senselessly
+thrust the revolver against his neck, and fired twice. Andersen
+stretched out on the ground.
+
+The soldiers left quickly. But Andersen remained pressed flat to the
+ground. The index finger of his left hand continued to quiver for
+about ten seconds.
+
+
+
+
+THE OUTRAGE--A TRUE STORY
+
+
+
+BY ALEKSANDR I. KUPRIN
+
+
+It was five o'clock on a July afternoon. The heat was terrible. The
+whole of the huge stone-built town breathed out heat like a glowing
+furnace. The glare of the white-walled house was insufferable. The
+asphalt pavements grew soft and burned the feet. The shadows of the
+acacias spread over the cobbled road, pitiful and weary. They too
+seemed hot. The sea, pale in the sunlight, lay heavy and immobile as
+one dead. Over the streets hung a white dust.
+
+In the foyer of one of the private theatres a small committee of local
+barristers who had undertaken to conduct the cases of those who had
+suffered in the last pogrom against the Jews was reaching the end of
+its daily task. There were nineteen of them, all juniors, young,
+progressive and conscientious men. The sitting was without formality,
+and white suits of duck, flannel and alpaca were in the majority. They
+sat anywhere, at little marble tables, and the chairman stood in front
+of an empty counter where chocolates were sold in the winter.
+
+The barristers were quite exhausted by the heat which poured in
+through the windows, with the dazzling sunlight and the noise of the
+streets. The proceedings went lazily and with a certain irritation.
+
+A tall young man with a fair moustache and thin hair was in the chair.
+He was dreaming voluptuously how he would be off in an instant on his
+new-bought bicycle to the bungalow. He would undress quickly, and
+without waiting to cool, still bathed in sweat, would fling himself
+into the clear, cold, sweet-smelling sea. His whole body was enervated
+and tense, thrilled by the thought. Impatiently moving the papers
+before him, he spoke in a drowsy voice.
+
+"So, Joseph Moritzovich will conduct the case of Rubinchik... Perhaps
+there is still a statement to be made on the order of the day?"
+
+His youngest colleague, a short, stout Karaite, very black and lively,
+said in a whisper so that every one could hear: "On the order of the
+day, the best thing would be iced _kvas_..."
+
+The chairman gave him a stern side-glance, but could not restrain a
+smile. He sighed and put both his hands on the table to raise himself
+and declare the meeting closed, when the doorkeeper, who stood at the
+entrance to the theatre, suddenly moved forward and said: "There are
+seven people outside, sir. They want to come in."
+
+The chairman looked impatiently round the company.
+
+"What is to be done, gentlemen?"
+
+Voices were heard.
+
+"Next time. _Basta!_"
+
+"Let 'em put it in writing."
+
+"If they'll get it over quickly... Decide it at once."
+
+"Let 'em go to the devil. Phew! It's like boiling pitch."
+
+"Let them in." The chairman gave a sign with his head, annoyed. "Then
+bring me a Vichy, please. But it must be cold."
+
+The porter opened the door and called down the corridor: "Come in.
+They say you may."
+
+Then seven of the most surprising and unexpected individuals filed
+into the foyer. First appeared a full-grown, confident man in a smart
+suit, of the colour of dry sea-sand, in a magnificent pink shirt with
+white stripes and a crimson rose in his buttonhole. From the front his
+head looked like an upright bean, from the side like a horizontal
+bean. His face was adorned with a strong, bushy, martial moustache. He
+wore dark blue pince-nez on his nose, on his hands straw-coloured
+gloves. In his left hand he held a black walking-stick with a silver
+mount, in his right a light blue handkerchief.
+
+The other six produced a strange, chaotic, incongruous impression,
+exactly as though they had all hastily pooled not merely their
+clothes, but their hands, feet and heads as well. There was a man with
+the splendid profile of a Roman senator, dressed in rags and tatters.
+Another wore an elegant dress waistcoat, from the deep opening of
+which a dirty Little-Russian shirt leapt to the eye. Here were the
+unbalanced faces of the criminal type, but looking with a confidence
+that nothing could shake. All these men, in spite of their apparent
+youth, evidently possessed a large experience of life, an easy manner,
+a bold approach, and some hidden, suspicious cunning.
+
+The gentleman in the sandy suit bowed just his head, neatly and
+easily, and said with a half-question in his voice: "Mr. Chairman?"
+
+"Yes. I am the chairman. What is your business?"
+
+"We--all whom you see before you," the gentleman began in a quiet
+voice and turned round to indicate his companions, "we come as
+delegates from the United Rostov-Kharkov-and-Odessa-Nikolayev
+Association of Thieves."
+
+The barristers began to shift in their seats.
+
+The chairman flung himself back and opened his eyes wide. "Association
+of _what_?" he said, perplexed.
+
+"The Association of Thieves," the gentleman in the sandy suit coolly
+repeated. "As for myself, my comrades did me the signal honour of
+electing me as the spokesman of the deputation."
+
+"Very ... pleased," the chairman said uncertainly.
+
+"Thank you. All seven of us are ordinary thieves--naturally of
+different departments. The Association has authorised us to put before
+your esteemed Committee"--the gentleman again made an elegant
+bow--"our respectful demand for assistance."
+
+"I don't quite understand ... quite frankly ... what is the
+connection..." The chairman waved his hands helplessly. "However,
+please go on."
+
+"The matter about which we have the courage and the honour to apply to
+you, gentlemen, is very clear, very simple, and very brief. It will
+take only six or seven minutes. I consider it my duty to warn you of
+this beforehand, in view of the late hour and the 115 degrees that
+Fahrenheit marks in the shade." The orator expectorated slightly and
+glanced at his superb gold watch. "You see, in the reports that have
+lately appeared in the local papers of the melancholy and terrible
+days of the last pogrom, there have very often been indications that
+among the instigators of the pogrom who were paid and organised by the
+police--the dregs of society, consisting of drunkards, tramps,
+souteneurs, and hooligans from the slums--thieves were also to be
+found. At first we were silent, but finally we considered ourselves
+under the necessity of protesting against such an unjust and serious
+accusation, before the face of the whole of intellectual society. I
+know well that in the eye of the law we are offenders and enemies of
+society. But imagine only for a moment, gentlemen, the situation of
+this enemy of society when he is accused wholesale of an offence which
+he not only never committed, but which he is ready to resist with the
+whole strength of his soul. It goes without saying that he will feel
+the outrage of such an injustice more keenly than a normal, average,
+fortunate citizen. Now, we declare that the accusation brought against
+us is utterly devoid of all basis, not merely of fact but even of
+logic. I intend to prove this in a few words if the honourable
+committee will kindly listen."
+
+"Proceed," said the chairman.
+
+"Please do ... Please ..." was heard from the barristers, now
+animated.
+
+"I offer you my sincere thanks in the name of all my comrades. Believe
+me, you will never repent your attention to the representatives of our
+... well, let us say, slippery, but nevertheless difficult,
+profession. 'So we begin,' as Giraldoni sings in the prologue to
+_Pagliacci_.
+
+"But first I would ask your permission, Mr. Chairman, to quench my
+thirst a little... Porter, bring me a lemonade and a glass of English
+bitter, there's a good fellow. Gentlemen, I will not speak of the
+moral aspect of our profession nor of its social importance. Doubtless
+you know better than I the striking and brilliant paradox of Proudhon:
+_La propriete c'est le vol_--a paradox if you like, but one that has
+never yet been refuted by the sermons of cowardly bourgeois or fat
+priests. For instance: a father accumulates a million by energetic and
+clever exploitation, and leaves it to his son--a rickety, lazy,
+ignorant, degenerate idiot, a brainless maggot, a true parasite.
+Potentially a million rubles is a million working days, the absolutely
+irrational right to labour, sweat, life, and blood of a terrible
+number of men. Why? What is the ground of reason? Utterly unknown.
+Then why not agree with the proposition, gentlemen, that our
+profession is to some extent as it were a correction of the excessive
+accumulation of values in the hands of individuals, and serves as a
+protest against all the hardships, abominations, arbitrariness,
+violence, and negligence of the human personality, against all the
+monstrosities created by the bourgeois capitalistic organisation of
+modern society? Sooner or later, this order of things will assuredly
+be overturned by the social revolution. Property will pass away into
+the limbo of melancholy memories and with it, alas! we will disappear
+from the face of the earth, we, _les braves chevaliers d'industrie_."
+
+The orator paused to take the tray from the hands of the porter, and
+placed it near to his hand on the table.
+
+"Excuse me, gentlemen... Here, my good man, take this,... and by the
+way, when you go out shut the door close behind you."
+
+"Very good, your Excellency!" the porter bawled in jest.
+
+The orator drank off half a glass and continued: "However, let us
+leave aside the philosophical, social, and economic aspects of the
+question. I do not wish to fatigue your attention. I must nevertheless
+point out that our profession very closely approaches the idea of that
+which is called art. Into it enter all the elements which go to form
+art--vocation, inspiration, fantasy, inventiveness, ambition, and a
+long and arduous apprenticeship to the science. From it is absent
+virtue alone, concerning which the great Karamzin wrote with such
+stupendous and fiery fascination. Gentlemen, nothing is further from
+my intention than to trifle with you and waste your precious time with
+idle paradoxes; but I cannot avoid expounding my idea briefly. To an
+outsider's ear it sounds absurdly wild and ridiculous to speak of the
+vocation of a thief. However, I venture to assure you that this
+vocation is a reality. There are men who possess a peculiarly strong
+visual memory, sharpness and accuracy of eye, presence of mind,
+dexterity of hand, and above all a subtle sense of touch, who are as
+it were born into God's world for the sole and special purpose of
+becoming distinguished card-sharpers. The pickpockets' profession
+demands extraordinary nimbleness and agility, a terrific certainty of
+movement, not to mention a ready wit, a talent for observation and
+strained attention. Some have a positive vocation for breaking open
+safes: from their tenderest childhood they are attracted by the
+mysteries of every kind of complicated mechanism--bicycles, sewing
+machines, clock-work toys and watches. Finally, gentlemen, there are
+people with an hereditary animus against private property. You may
+call this phenomenon degeneracy. But I tell you that you cannot entice
+a true thief, and thief by vocation, into the prose of honest
+vegetation by any gingerbread reward, or by the offer of a secure
+position, or by the gift of money, or by a woman's love: because there
+is here a permanent beauty of risk, a fascinating abyss of danger, the
+delightful sinking of the heart, the impetuous pulsation of life, the
+ecstasy! You are armed with the protection of the law, by locks,
+revolvers, telephones, police and soldiery; but we only by our own
+dexterity, cunning and fearlessness. We are the foxes, and society--is
+a chicken-run guarded by dogs. Are you aware that the most artistic
+and gifted natures in our villages become horse-thieves and poachers?
+What would you have? Life is so meagre, so insipid, so intolerably
+dull to eager and high-spirited souls!
+
+"I pass on to inspiration. Gentlemen, doubtless you have had to read
+of thefts that were supernatural in design and execution. In the
+headlines of the newspapers they are called 'An Amazing Robbery,' or
+'An Ingenious Swindle,' or again 'A Clever Ruse of the Gangsters.' In
+such cases our bourgeois paterfamilias waves his hands and exclaims:
+'What a terrible thing! If only their abilities were turned to
+good--their inventiveness, their amazing knowledge of human
+psychology, their self-possession, their fearlessness, their
+incomparable histrionic powers! What extraordinary benefits they would
+bring to the country!' But it is well known that the bourgeois
+paterfamilias was specially devised by Heaven to utter commonplaces
+and trivialities. I myself sometimes--we thieves are sentimental
+people, I confess--I myself sometimes admire a beautiful sunset in
+Aleksandra Park or by the sea-shore. And I am always certain
+beforehand that some one near me will say with infallible _aplomb_:
+'Look at it. If it were put into picture no one would ever believe
+it!' I turn round and naturally I see a self-satisfied, full-fed
+paterfamilias, who delights in repeating some one else's silly
+statement as though it were his own. As for our dear country, the
+bourgeois paterfamilias looks upon it as though it were a roast
+turkey. If you've managed to cut the best part of the bird for
+yourself, eat it quietly in a comfortable corner and praise God. But
+he's not really the important person. I was led away by my detestation
+of vulgarity and I apologise for the digression. The real point is
+that genius and inspiration, even when they are not devoted to the
+service of the Orthodox Church, remain rare and beautiful things.
+Progress is a law--and theft too has its creation.
+
+"Finally, our profession is by no means as easy and pleasant as it
+seems to the first glance. It demands long experience, constant
+practice, slow and painful apprenticeship. It comprises in itself
+hundreds of supple, skilful processes that the cleverest juggler
+cannot compass. That I may not give you only empty words, gentlemen, I
+will perform a few experiments before you now. I ask you to have every
+confidence in the demonstrators. We are all at present in the
+enjoyment of legal freedom, and though we are usually watched, and
+every one of us is known by face, and our photographs adorn the albums
+of all detective departments, for the time being we are not under the
+necessity of hiding ourselves from anybody. If any one of you should
+recognise any of us in the future under different circumstances, we
+ask you earnestly always to act in accordance with your professional
+duties and your obligations as citizens. In grateful return for your
+kind attention we have decided to declare your property inviolable,
+and to invest it with a thieves' taboo. However, I proceed to
+business."
+
+The orator turned round and gave an order: "Sesoi the Great, will you
+come this way!"
+
+An enormous fellow with a stoop, whose hands reached to his knees,
+without a forehead or a neck, like a big, fair Hercules, came forward.
+He grinned stupidly and rubbed his left eyebrow in his confusion.
+
+"Can't do nothin' here," he said hoarsely.
+
+The gentleman in the sandy suit spoke for him, turning to the
+committee.
+
+"Gentlemen, before you stands a respected member of our association.
+His specialty is breaking open safes, iron strong boxes, and other
+receptacles for monetary tokens. In his night work he sometimes avails
+himself of the electric current of the lighting installation for
+fusing metals. Unfortunately he has nothing on which he can
+demonstrate the best items of his repertoire. He will open the most
+elaborate lock irreproachably... By the way, this door here, it's
+locked, is it not?"
+
+Every one turned to look at the door, on which a printed notice hung:
+"Stage Door. Strictly Private."
+
+"Yes, the door's locked, evidently," the chairman agreed.
+
+"Admirable. Sesoi the Great, will you be so kind?"
+
+"'Tain't nothin' at all," said the giant leisurely.
+
+He went close to the door, shook it cautiously with his hand, took out
+of his pocket a small bright instrument, bent down to the keyhole,
+made some almost imperceptible movements with the tool, suddenly
+straightened and flung the door wide in silence. The chairman had his
+watch in his hands. The whole affair took only ten seconds.
+
+"Thank you, Sesoi the Great," said the gentleman in the sandy suit
+politely. "You may go back to your seat."
+
+But the chairman interrupted in some alarm: "Excuse me. This is all
+very interesting and instructive, but ... is it included in your
+esteemed colleague's profession to be able to lock the door again?"
+
+"Ah, _mille pardons_." The gentleman bowed hurriedly. "It slipped my
+mind. Sesoi the Great, would you oblige?"
+
+The door was locked with the same adroitness and the same silence. The
+esteemed colleague waddled back to his friends, grinning.
+
+"Now I will have the honour to show you the skill of one of our
+comrades who is in the line of picking pockets in theatres and
+railway-stations," continued the orator. "He is still very young, but
+you may to some extent judge from the delicacy of his present work of
+the heights he will attain by diligence. Yasha!" A swarthy youth in a
+blue silk blouse and long glacé boots, like a gipsy, came forward with
+a swagger, fingering the tassels of his belt, and merrily screwing up
+his big, impudent black eyes with yellow whites.
+
+"Gentlemen," said the gentleman in the sandy suit persuasively, "I
+must ask if one of you would be kind enough to submit himself to a
+little experiment. I assure you this will be an exhibition only, just
+a game."
+
+He looked round over the seated company.
+
+The short plump Karaite, black as a beetle, came forward from his
+table.
+
+"At your service," he said amusedly.
+
+"Yasha!" The orator signed with his head.
+
+Yasha came close to the solicitor. On his left arm, which was bent,
+hung a bright-coloured, figured scarf.
+
+"Suppose yer in church or at the bar in one of the halls,--or watchin'
+a circus," he began in a sugary, fluent voice. "I see straight
+off--there's a toff... Excuse me, sir. Suppose you're the toff.
+There's no offence--just means a rich gent, decent enough, but don't
+know his way about. First--what's he likely to have about 'im? All
+sorts. Mostly, a ticker and a chain. Whereabouts does he keep 'em?
+Somewhere in his top vest pocket--here. Others have 'em in the bottom
+pocket. Just here. Purse--most always in the trousers, except when a
+greeny keeps it in his jacket. Cigar-case. Have a look first what it
+is--gold, silver--with a monogram. Leather--what decent man'd soil his
+hands? Cigar-case. Seven pockets: here, here, here, up there, there,
+here and here again. That's right, ain't it? That's how you go to
+work."
+
+As he spoke the young man smiled. His eyes shone straight into the
+barrister's. With a quick, dexterous movement of his right hand he
+pointed to various portions of his clothes.
+
+"Then again you might see a pin here in the tie. However we do not
+appropriate. Such _gents_ nowadays--they hardly ever wear a real
+stone. Then I comes up to him. I begin straight off to talk to him
+like a gent: 'Sir, would you be so kind as to give me a light from
+your cigarette'--or something of the sort. At any rate, I enter into
+conversation. What's next? I look him straight in the peepers, just
+like this. Only two of me fingers are at it--just this and this."
+Yasha lifted two fingers of his right hand on a level with the
+solicitor's face, the forefinger and the middle finger and moved them
+about.
+
+"D' you see? With these two fingers I run over the whole pianner.
+Nothin' wonderful in it: one, two, three--ready. Any man who wasn't
+stupid could learn easily. That's all it is. Most ordinary business. I
+thank you."
+
+The pickpocket swung on his heel as if to return to his seat.
+
+"Yasha!" The gentleman in the sandy suit said with meaning weight.
+"Yasha!" he repeated sternly.
+
+Yasha stopped. His back was turned to the barrister, but be evidently
+gave his representative an imploring look, because the latter frowned
+and shook his head.
+
+"Yasha!" he said for the third time, in a threatening tone.
+
+"Huh!" The young thief grunted in vexation and turned to face the
+solicitor. "Where's your little watch, sir?" he said in a piping
+voice.
+
+"Oh!" the Karaite brought himself up sharp.
+
+"You see--now you say 'Oh!'" Yasha continued reproachfully. "All the
+while you were admiring me right hand, I was operatin' yer watch with
+my left. Just with these two little fingers, under the scarf. That's
+why we carry a scarf. Since your chain's not worth anything--a present
+from some _mamselle_ and the watch is a gold one, I've left you the
+chain as a keepsake. Take it," he added with a sigh, holding out the
+watch.
+
+"But ... That is clever," the barrister said in confusion. "I didn't
+notice it at all."
+
+"That's our business," Yasha said with pride.
+
+He swaggered back to his comrades. Meantime the orator took a drink
+from his glass and continued.
+
+"Now, gentlemen, our next collaborator will give you an exhibition of
+some ordinary card tricks, which are worked at fairs, on steamboats
+and railways. With three cards, for instance, an ace, a queen, and a
+six, he can quite easily... But perhaps you are tired of these
+demonstrations, gentlemen."...
+
+"Not at all. It's extremely interesting," the chairman answered
+affably. "I should like to ask one question--that is if it is not too
+indiscreet--what is your own specialty?"
+
+"Mine... H'm... No, how could it be an indiscretion?... I work the big
+diamond shops ... and my other business is banks," answered the orator
+with a modest smile. "Don't think this occupation is easier than
+others. Enough that I know four European languages, German, French,
+English, and Italian, not to mention Polish, Ukrainian and Yiddish.
+But shall I show you some more experiments, Mr. Chairman?"
+
+The chairman looked at his watch.
+
+"Unfortunately the time is too short," he said. "Wouldn't it be better
+to pass on to the substance of your business? Besides, the experiments
+we have just seen have amply convinced us of the talent of your
+esteemed associates... Am I not right, Isaac Abramovich?"
+
+"Yes, yes ... absolutely," the Karaite barrister readily confirmed.
+
+"Admirable," the gentleman in the sandy suit kindly agreed. "My dear
+Count"--he turned to a blond, curly-haired man, with a face like a
+billiard-maker on a bank-holiday--"put your instruments away. They
+will not be wanted. I have only a few words more to say, gentlemen.
+Now that you have convinced yourselves that our art, although it does
+not enjoy the patronage of high-placed individuals, is nevertheless an
+art; and you have probably come to my opinion that this art is one
+which demands many personal qualities besides constant labour, danger,
+and unpleasant misunderstandings--you will also, I hope, believe that
+it is possible to become attached to its practice and to love and
+esteem it, however strange that may appear at first sight. Picture to
+yourselves that a famous poet of talent, whose tales and poems adorn
+the pages of our best magazines, is suddenly offered the chance of
+writing verses at a penny a line, signed into the bargain, as an
+advertisement for 'Cigarettes Jasmine'--or that a slander was spread
+about one of you distinguished barristers, accusing you of making a
+business of concocting evidence for divorce cases, or of writing
+petitions from the cabmen to the governor in public-houses! Certainly
+your relatives, friends and acquaintances wouldn't believe it. But the
+rumour has already done its poisonous work, and you have to live
+through minutes of torture. Now picture to yourselves that such a
+disgraceful and vexatious slander, started by God knows whom, begins
+to threaten not only your good name and your quiet digestion, but your
+freedom, your health, and even your life!
+
+"This is the position of us thieves, now being slandered by the
+newspapers. I must explain. There is in existence a class of
+scum--_passez-moi le mot_--whom we call their 'Mothers' Darlings.'
+With these we are unfortunately confused. They have neither shame nor
+conscience, a dissipated riff-raff, mothers' useless darlings, idle,
+clumsy drones, shop assistants who commit unskilful thefts. He thinks
+nothing of living on his mistress, a prostitute, like the male
+mackerel, who always swims after the female and lives on her
+excrements. He is capable of robbing a child with violence in a dark
+alley, in order to get a penny; he will kill a man in his sleep and
+torture an old woman. These men are the pests of our profession. For
+them the beauties and the traditions of the art have no existence.
+They watch us real, talented thieves like a pack of jackals after a
+lion. Suppose I've managed to bring off an important job--we won't
+mention the fact that I have to leave two-thirds of what I get to the
+receivers who sell the goods and discount the notes, or the customary
+subsidies to our incorruptible police--I still have to share out
+something to each one of these parasites, who have got wind of my job,
+by accident, hearsay, or a casual glance.
+
+"So we call them _Motients_, which means 'half,' a corruption of
+_moitié_ ... Original etymology. I pay him only because he knows and
+may inform against me. And it mostly happens that even when he's got
+his share he runs off to the police in order to get another dollar.
+We, honest thieves... Yes, you may laugh, gentlemen, but I repeat it:
+we honest thieves detest these reptiles. We have another name for
+them, a stigma of ignominy; but I dare not utter it here out of
+respect for the place and for my audience. Oh, yes, they would gladly
+accept an invitation to a pogrom. The thought that we may be confused
+with them is a hundred times more insulting to us even than the
+accusation of taking part in a pogrom.
+
+"Gentlemen! While I have been speaking I have often noticed smiles on
+your faces. I understand you. Our presence here, our application for
+your assistance, and above all the unexpectedness of such a phenomenon
+as a systematic organisation of thieves, with delegates who are
+thieves, and a leader of the deputation, also a thief by
+profession--it is all so original that it must inevitably arouse a
+smile. But now I will speak from the depth of my heart. Let us be rid
+of our outward wrappings, gentlemen, let us speak as men to men.
+
+"Almost all of us are educated, and all love books. We don't only read
+the adventures of Roqueambole, as the realistic writers say of us. Do
+you think our hearts did not bleed and our cheeks did not burn from
+shame, as though we had been slapped in the face, all the time that
+this unfortunate, disgraceful, accursed, cowardly war lasted. Do you
+really think that our souls do not flame with anger when our country
+is lashed with Cossack-whips, and trodden under foot, shot and spit at
+by mad, exasperated men? Will you not believe that we thieves meet
+every step towards the liberation to come with a thrill of ecstasy?
+
+"We understand, every one of us--perhaps only a little less than you
+barristers, gentlemen--the real sense of the pogroms. Every time that
+some dastardly event or some ignominious failure has occurred, after
+executing a martyr in a dark corner of a fortress, or after deceiving
+public confidence, some one who is hidden and unapproachable gets
+frightened of the people's anger and diverts its vicious element upon
+the heads of innocent Jews. Whose diabolical mind invents these
+pogroms--these titanic blood-lettings, these cannibal amusements for
+the dark, bestial souls?
+
+"We all see with certain clearness that the last convulsions of the
+bureaucracy are at hand. Forgive me if I present it imaginatively.
+There was a people that had a chief temple, wherein dwelt a
+bloodthirsty deity, behind a curtain, guarded by priests. Once
+fearless hands tore the curtain away. Then all the people saw, instead
+of a god, a huge, shaggy, voracious spider, like a loathsome
+cuttlefish. They beat it and shoot at it: it is dismembered already;
+but still in the frenzy of its final agony it stretches over all the
+ancient temple its disgusting, clawing tentacles. And the priests,
+themselves under sentence of death, push into the monster's grasp all
+whom they can seize in their terrified, trembling fingers.
+
+"Forgive me. What I have said is probably wild and incoherent. But I
+am somewhat agitated. Forgive me. I continue. We thieves by profession
+know better than any one else how these pogroms were organised. We
+wander everywhere: into public houses, markets, tea-shops,
+doss-houses, public places, the harbour. We can swear before God and
+man and posterity that we have seen how the police organise the
+massacres, without shame and almost without concealment. We know them
+all by face, in uniform or disguise. They invited many of us to take
+part; but there was none so vile among us as to give even the outward
+consent that fear might have extorted.
+
+"You know, of course, how the various strata of Russian society behave
+towards the police? It is not even respected by those who avail
+themselves of its dark services. But we despise and hate it three, ten
+times more--not because many of us have been tortured in the detective
+departments, which are just chambers of horror, beaten almost to
+death, beaten with whips of ox-hide and of rubber in order to extort a
+confession or to make us betray a comrade. Yes, we hate them for that
+too. But we thieves, all of us who have been in prison, have a mad
+passion for freedom. Therefore we despise our gaolers with all the
+hatred that a human heart can feel. I will speak for myself. I have
+been tortured three times by police detectives till I was half dead.
+My lungs and liver have been shattered. In the mornings I spit blood
+until I can breathe no more. But if I were told that I will be spared
+a fourth flogging only by shaking hands with a chief of the detective
+police, I would refuse to do it!
+
+"And then the newspapers say that we took from these hands
+Judas-money, dripping with human blood. No, gentlemen, it is a slander
+which stabs our very soul, and inflicts insufferable pain. Not money,
+nor threats, nor promises will suffice to make us mercenary murderers
+of our brethren, nor accomplices with them."
+
+"Never ... No ... No ... ," his comrades standing behind him began to
+murmur.
+
+"I will say more," the thief continued. "Many of us protected the
+victims during this pogrom. Our friend, called Sesoi the Great--you
+have just seen him, gentlemen--was then lodging with a Jewish
+braid-maker on the Moldavanka. With a poker in his hands he defended
+his landlord from a great horde of assassins. It is true, Sesoi the
+Great is a man of enormous physical strength, and this is well known
+to many of the inhabitants of the Moldavanka. But you must agree,
+gentlemen, that in these moments Sesoi the Great looked straight into
+the face of death. Our comrade Martin the Miner--this gentleman here"
+--the orator pointed to a pale, bearded man with beautiful eyes who
+was holding himself in the background--"saved an old Jewess, whom he
+had never seen before, who was being pursued by a crowd of these
+_canaille_. They broke his head with a crowbar for his pains, smashed
+his arm in two places and splintered a rib. He is only just out of
+hospital. That is the way our most ardent and determined members
+acted. The others trembled for anger and wept for their own impotence.
+
+"None of us will forget the horrors of those bloody days and bloody
+nights lit up by the glare of fires, those sobbing women, those little
+children's bodies torn to pieces and left lying in the street. But for
+all that not one of us thinks that the police and the mob are the real
+origin of the evil. These tiny, stupid, loathsome vermin are only a
+senseless fist that is governed by a vile, calculating mind, moved by
+a diabolical will.
+
+"Yes, gentlemen," the orator continued, "we thieves have nevertheless
+merited your legal contempt. But when you, noble gentlemen, need the
+help of clever, brave, obedient men at the barricades, men who will be
+ready to meet death with a song and a jest on their lips for the most
+glorious word in the world--Freedom--will you cast us off then and
+order us away because of an inveterate revulsion? Damn it all, the
+first victim in the French Revolution was a prostitute. She jumped up
+on to a barricade, with her skirt caught elegantly up into her hand
+and called out: 'Which of you soldiers will dare to shoot a woman?'
+Yes, by God." The orator exclaimed aloud and brought down his fist on
+to the marble table top: "They killed her, but her action was
+magnificent, and the beauty of her words immortal.
+
+"If you should drive us away on the great day, we will turn to you and
+say: 'You spotless Cherubim--if human thoughts had the power to wound,
+kill, and rob man of honour and property, then which of you innocent
+doves would not deserve the knout and imprisonment for life?' Then we
+will go away from you and build our own gay, sporting, desperate
+thieves' barricade, and will die with such united songs on our lips
+that you will envy us, you who are whiter than snow!
+
+"But I have been once more carried away. Forgive me. I am at the end.
+You now see, gentlemen, what feelings the newspaper slanders have
+excited in us. Believe in our sincerity and do what you can to remove
+the filthy stain which has so unjustly been cast upon us. I have
+finished."
+
+He went away from the table and joined his comrades. The barristers
+were whispering in an undertone, very much as the magistrates of the
+bench at sessions. Then the chairman rose.
+
+"We trust you absolutely, and we will make every effort to clear your
+association of this most grievous charge. At the same time my
+colleagues have authorised me, gentlemen, to convey to you their deep
+respect for your passionate feelings as citizens. And for my own part
+I ask the leader of the deputation for permission to shake him by the
+hand."
+
+The two men, both tall and serious, held each other's hands in a
+strong, masculine grip.
+
+The barristers were leaving the theatre; but four of them hung back a
+little beside the clothes rack in the hall. Isaac Abramovich could not
+find his new, smart grey hat anywhere. In its place on the wooden peg
+hung a cloth cap jauntily flattened in on either side.
+
+"Yasha!" The stern voice of the orator was suddenly heard from the
+other side of the door. "Yasha! It's the last time I'll speak to you,
+curse you! ... Do you hear?" The heavy door opened wide. The gentleman
+in the sandy suit entered. In his hands he held Isaac Abramovich's
+hat; on his face was a well-bred smile.
+
+"Gentlemen, for Heaven's sake forgive us--an odd little
+misunderstanding. One of our comrades exchanged his hat by accident...
+Oh, it is yours! A thousand pardons. Doorkeeper! Why don't you keep an
+eye on things, my good fellow, eh? Just give me that cap, there. Once
+more, I ask you to forgive me, gentlemen."
+
+With a pleasant bow and the same well-bred smile he made his way
+quickly into the street.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Best Russian Short Stories, by Various
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 13437 ***