diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:02 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:02 -0700 |
| commit | 25f4764a834a537e94780f00b8dbd066cc3896cb (patch) | |
| tree | 82078576691e65cf5d0aa2368e0a82b650672dbd /4706-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '4706-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 4706-h/4706-h.htm | 18428 |
1 files changed, 18428 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/4706-h/4706-h.htm b/4706-h/4706-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1e4f52c --- /dev/null +++ b/4706-h/4706-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18428 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Yama [The Pit], by Alexandra Kuprin</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: 90%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.center {text-align: center; + text-indent: 0em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +sup { vertical-align: top; font-size: 0.6em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Yama (The Pit), by Alexandra Kuprin</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Yama (The Pit)</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Alexandra Kuprin</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Bernard Guilbert Guerney</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 5, 2002 [eBook #4706]<br /> +[Most recently updated: March 15, 2023]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Robert Rowe, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YAMA (THE PIT) ***</div> + +<h3>YAMA [THE PIT]</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +Of this edition, intended for private circulation only, and printed from type +on Berkeley Antique laid paper, 950 copies have been printed for America, and +550 for Great Britain. Also, 55 unnumbered copies, for the press. +</p> + +<p> +This copy is Number 223 +</p> + +<h1> +YAMA [THE PIT] +</h1> + +<h3> +A NOVEL IN THREE PARTS +</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">BY ALEXANDRA KUPRIN</h2> + +<h4>TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN +<br/> +BY BERNARD GUILBERT GUERNEY</h4> + +<h5>“All the horror is in just this, that there is no horror ...”</h5> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h3>AUTHOR’S DEDICATION</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +I know that many will find this novel immoral and indecent; nevertheless, I +dedicate it with all my heart to MOTHERS AND YOUTHS—A. K. +</p> + +<h3>TRANSLATOR’S DEDICATION</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +I dedicate the labour of translation, in all humility and sincerity, to K. +ANDRAE. B. G. G. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#intro">INTRODUCTION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#translator">TRANSLATOR’S NOTE</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>PART ONE</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0101">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0102">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0103">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0104">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0105">CHAPTER V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0106">CHAPTER VI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0107">CHAPTER VII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0108">CHAPTER VIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0109">CHAPTER IX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0110">CHAPTER X</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0111">CHAPTER XI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0112">CHAPTER XII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>PART TWO</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0201">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0202">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0203">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0204">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0205">CHAPTER V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0206">CHAPTER VI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0207">CHAPTER VII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0208">CHAPTER VIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0209">CHAPTER IX</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0210">CHAPTER X</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0211">CHAPTER XI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0212">CHAPTER XII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0213">CHAPTER XIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0214">CHAPTER XIV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0215">CHAPTER XV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0216">CHAPTER XVI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0217">CHAPTER XVII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td>PART THREE</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0301">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0302">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0303">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0304">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0305">CHAPTER V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0306">CHAPTER VI</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0307">CHAPTER VII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0308">CHAPTER VIII</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td><a href="#chap0309">CHAPTER IX</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<h3><a name="intro"></a> INTRODUCTION</h3> + +<p> +“With us, you see,” Kuprin makes the reporter Platonov, his mouthpiece, say in +Yama, “they write about detectives, about lawyers, about inspectors of the +revenue, about pedagogues, about attorneys, about the police, about officers, +about sensual ladies, about engineers, about baritones—and really, by God, +altogether well—cleverly, with finesse and talent. But, after all, all these +people are rubbish, and their life is not life, but some sort of conjured up, +spectral, unnecessary delirium of world culture. But there are two singular +realities—ancient as humanity itself: the prostitute and the moujik. And about +them we know nothing, save some tinsel, gingerbread, debauched depictions in +literature...” +</p> + +<p> +Tinsel, gingerbread, debauched depictions... Let us consider some of the ways +in which this monstrous reality has been approached by various writers. There +is, first, the purely sentimental: Prevost’s <i>Manon Lescaut</i>. Then there +is the slobberingly sentimental: Dumas’ <i>Dame aux Camélias</i>. A third is +the necrophilically romantic: Louys’ <i>Aphrodite</i>. The fertile Balzac has +given us no less than two: the purely romantic, in his fascinating portraits of +the Fair Imperia; and the romantically realistic, in his <i>Splendeurs et +Misères des Courtisanes</i>. Reade’s <i>Peg Woffington</i> may be called the +literary parallel of the costume drama; Defoe’s <i>Moll Flanders</i> is +honestly realistic; Zola’s <i>Nana</i> is rabidly so. +</p> + +<p> +There is one singular fact that must be noted in connection with the vast +majority of such depictions. Punk or bona roba, lorette or drab—put her before +an artist in letters, and, lo and behold ye! such is the strange allure +emanating from the hussy, that the resultant portrait is either that of a +martyred Magdalene, or, at the very least, has all the enigmatic piquancy of a +Monna Lisa... Not a slut, but what is a hetaera; and not a hetaera, but what is +well-nigh Kypris herself! I know of but one depiction in all literature that +possesses the splendour of implacable veracity as well as undiminished +artistry; where the portrait is that of a prostitute, despite all her tirings +and trappings; a depiction truly deserving to be designated a portrait: the +portrait supreme of the harlot eternal—Shakespeare’s Cleopatra. +</p> + +<p> +Furthermore, it will be observed that such depictions, for the most part, are +primarily portraits of prostitutes, and not pictures of prostitution. It is +also a singular fact that war, another scourge has met with similar treatment. +We have the pretty, spotless grenadiers and cuirassiers of Meissonier in +plenty; Vereshchagin is still alone in the grim starkness of his wind-swept, +snow-covered battle-fields, with black crows wheeling over the crumpled masses +of gray... +</p> + +<p> +And, curiously enough, it is another great Russian, Kuprin, who is supreme—if +not unique—as a painter of the universal scourge of prostitution, per se; and +not as an incidental background for portraits. True, he may not have entirely +escaped the strange allure, aforementioned, of the femininity he paints; for +femininity—even though fallen, corrupt, abased, is still femininity, one of the +miracles of life, to Kuprin, the lover of life. But, even if he may be said to +have used too much of the oil of sentimentality in mixing his colours for the +portraits, his portraits are subordinate to the background; and there his eye +is true and keen, his hand steady and unflinching, his colours and brushwork +unimpeachable. Whether, like his own Platonov—who may be called to some extent +an autobiographical figure, and many of whose experiences are Kuprin’s +own—“came upon the brothel” and gathered his material unconsciously, “without +any ulterior thoughts of writing,” we do not know, nor need we rummage in his +dirty linen, as he puts it. Suffice it to say here—to cite but two +instances—that almost anyone acquainted with Russia will tell you the full name +of the rich, gay, southern port city of K—; that any Odessite will tell you +that Treppel’s is merely transplanted, for fictional reasons, from his own city +to K—... +</p> + +<p> +Alexandre I. Kuprin was born in 1870; 1909 marked the twenty-fifth anniversary +of his literary activity. He attained his fame only upon the publication of his +amazing, epical novel, “The Duel”—which, just like “YAMA,” is an arraignment; +an arraignment of militaristic corruption. Russian criticism has styled him the +poet of life. If Chekhov was the Wunderkind of Russian letters, Kuprin is its +enfant terrible. His range of subjects is enormous; his power of observation +and his versatility extraordinary. Gambrinus alone would justify his place +among the literary giants of Europe. Some of his picaresques, “THE INSULT,” +“HORSE-THIEVES,” and “OFF THE STREET”—the last in the form of a monologue—are +sheer tours de force. “Olessiya” is possessed of a weird, unearthly beauty; +“The Shulamite” is a prose-poem of antiquity. He deals with the life of the +moujik in “Back-woods” and “The Swamp”; of the Jews, in “The Jewess” and “The +Coward”; of the soldiers, in “The Cadets,” “The Interrogation,” “The Night +Watch,” “Delirium”; of the actors, in “How I Was an Actor” and “In Retirement.” +We have circus life in “‘Allez!’” “In The Circus,” “Lolly,” “The Clown”—the +last a one-act playlet; factory life, in “Moloch”; provincial life, in “Small +Fry”; bohemian life, in “Captain Ribnicov” and “The River of Life”—which no one +but Kuprin could have written. There are animal stories and flower stories; +stories for children—and for neuropaths; one story is dedicated to a jockey; +another to a circus clown; a third, if I remember rightly, to a race-horse... +“Yama” created an enormous sensation upon the publication of the first part in +volume three of the “Sbornik Zemliya”—“The Earth Anthology”—in 1909; the second +part appeared in volume fifteen, in 1914; the third, in volume sixteen, in +1915. Both the original parts and the last revised edition have been followed +in this translation. The greater part of the stories listed above are available +in translations, under various titles; the list, of course, is merely a handful +from the vast bulk of the fecund Kuprin’s writings, nor is any group of titles +exhaustive of its kind. “The Star of Solomon,” his latest collection of +stories, bears the imprint of Helsingfors, 1920. +</p> + +<p> +It must not be thought, despite its locale, that Kuprin’s “Yama” is a picture +of Russian prostitution solely; it is intrinsically universal. All that is +necessary is to change the kopecks into cents, pennies, sous or pfennings; +compute the versts into miles or metres; Jennka may be Eugenie or Jeannette; +and for Yama, simply read Whitechapel, Montmartre, or the Barbary Coast. That +is why “Yama” is a “tremendous, staggering, and truthful book—a terrific book.” +It has been called notorious, lurid—even oleographic. So are, perhaps, the +picaresques of Murillo, the pictorial satires of Hogarth, the bizarreries of +Goya... +</p> + +<p> +The best introduction to “Yama,” however, can be given in Kuprin’s own words, +as uttered by the reporter Platonov. “They do write,” he says, “... but it is +all either a lie, or theatrical effects for children of tender years, or else a +cunning symbolism, comprehensible only to the sages of the future. But the life +itself no one as yet has touched... +</p> + +<p> +“But the material here is in reality tremendous, downright crushing, +terrible... And not at all terrible are the loud phrases about the traffic in +women’s flesh, about the white slaves, about prostitution being a corroding +fester of large cities, and so on, and so on... an old hurdy-gurdy of which all +have tired! No, horrible are the everyday, accustomed trifles; these +business-like, daily, commercial reckonings; this thousand-year-old science of +amatory practice; this prosaic usage, determined by the ages. In these +unnoticeable nothings are completely dissolved such feelings as resentment, +humiliation, shame. There remains a dry profession, a contract, an agreement, a +well-nigh honest petty trade, no better, no worse than, say, the trade in +groceries. Do you understand, gentlemen, that all the horror is in just +this—that there is no horror! Bourgeois work days—and that is all... +</p> + +<p> +“More awful than all awful words, a hundredfold more awful—is some such little +prosaic stroke or other as will suddenly knock you all in a heap, like a blow +on the forehead...” +</p> + +<p> +It is in such little prosaic strokes; everyday, accustomed, characteristic +trifles; minute particles of life, that Kuprin excels. The detailism which +crowds his pages is like the stippling of Whistler; or the enumerations of the +Bible; or the chiselling of Rodin, that endows the back of the Thinker with +meaning. +</p> + +<p> +“We all pass by these characteristic trifles indifferently, like the blind, as +though not seeing them scattered about under our feet. But an artist will come, +and he will look over them carefully, and he will pick them up. And suddenly he +will so skillfully turn in the sun a minute particle of life, that we shall all +cry out: ’Oh, my God! But I myself—myself!—have seen this with my own eyes. +Only it simply did not enter my head to turn my close attention upon it.’ But +our Russian artists of the word—the most conscientious and sincere artists in +the whole world—for some reason have up to this time passed over prostitution +and the brothel. Why? Really, it is difficult for me to answer that. Perhaps +because of squeamishness, perhaps out of pusillanimity, out of fear of being +signalized as a pornographic writer; finally from the apprehension that our +gossiping criticism will identify the artistic work of the writer with his +personal life and will start rummaging in his dirty linen. Or perhaps they can +find neither the time, nor the self-denial, nor the self-possession to plunge +in head first into this life and to watch it right up close, without prejudice, +without sonorous phrases, without a sheepish pity, in all its monstrous +simplicity and everyday activity... That material... is truly unencompassable +in its significance and weightiness... The words of others do not suffice—even +though they be the most exact—even observations, made with a little note-book +and a bit of pencil, do not suffice. One must grow accustomed to this life, +without being cunningly wise...” +</p> + +<p> +“I believe, that not now, not soon—after fifty years or so—but there will come +a writer of genius, and precisely a Russian one, who will absorb within himself +all the burdens and all the abominations of this life and will cast them forth +to us in the form of simple, fine, and deathlessly—caustic images. And we shall +all say: ’Why, now, we ourselves have seen and known all this, but we could not +even suppose that this is so horrible! In this coming artist I believe with all +my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +Kuprin is too sincere, too big, to have written this with himself in mind; yet +no reader of the scathing, searing arraignment called “Yama,” will question +that the great, the gigantic Kuprin has shown “the burdens and abominations” of +prostitution, in “simple, fine, and deathlessly-caustic images”; has shown that +“all the horror is in just this—that there is no horror...” For it is as a +pitiless reflection of a “singular,” sinister reality that “Yama” stands +unsurpassed. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +B. G. GUERNEY.<br/> +New York City, January, 1922. +</p> + +<h3><a name="translator"></a> TRANSLATOR’S NOTE.</h3> + +<p> +A word must be said of Kuprin’s style. He is by no means a purist; his pages +bristle with neologisms and foreign—or, rather, outlandish—words; nor has he +any hesitancy in adapting and Russianizing such words. He coins words; he is, +at times, actually Borrowesque, and not only does he resort to colloquialisms +and slang, but to dialect, cant, and even actual argot. Therein is his +glory—and, perhaps, his weakness. Therefore, an attempt has been made, wherever +corruptions, slang, and so forth, appear in the original, to render them +through the nearest English equivalents. While this has its obvious dubieties +and disadvantages, any other course would have smacked of prettification—a fate +which such a book as “Yama” surely does not deserve. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap0101"></a> PART ONE</h2> + +<h3> CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p> +A long, long time ago, long before the railroads, the stage-drivers—both +government and private—used to live, from generation to generation, at the very +farthest confine of a large southern city. And that is why the entire region +was called the Yamskaya Sloboda—the Stage-drivers’ Borough; or simply Yamskaya, +or Yamkas—Little Ditches, or, shorter still, Yama—The Pit. In the course of +time, when hauling by steam killed off transportation by horses, the mettlesome +tribe of the stage-drivers little by little lost its boisterous ways and its +brave customs, went over into other occupations, fell apart and scattered. But +for many years—even up to this time—a shady renown has remained to Yama, as of +a place exceedingly gay, tipsy, brawling, and in the night-time not without +danger. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow it came about of itself, that on the ruins of those ancient, +long-warmed nests, where of yore the rosy-cheeked, sprightly wives of the +soldiery and the plump widows of Yama, with their black eyebrows, had secretly +traded in vodka and free love, there began to spring up wide-open brothels, +permitted by the authorities, regulated by official supervision and subject to +express, strict rules. Towards the end of the nineteenth century both streets +of Yama—Great Yamskaya and Little Yamskaya—proved to be entirely occupied, on +one side of the street as well as the other, exclusively with houses of +ill-fame.[1] Of the private houses no more than five or six were left, but even +they were taken up by public houses, beer halls, and general stores, catering +to the needs of Yama prostitution. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[1] “Houses of Suffrance”—i.e., Houses of the Necessary Evil.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +The course of life, the manners and customs, are almost identical in all the +thirty-odd establishments; the difference is only in the charges exacted for +the briefly-timed love, and consequently in certain external minutiae as well: +in the assortment of more or less handsome women, in the comparative smartness +of the costumes, in the magnificence of the premises and the luxuriousness of +the furnishings. +</p> + +<p> +The most chic establishment is that of Treppel, the first house to the left +upon entering Great Yamskaya. This is an old firm. Its present owner bears an +entirely different name, and fills the post of an elector in the city council +and is even a member of the city board. The house is of two stories, green and +white, built in the debauched pseudo-Russian style a la Ropetovsky, with little +horses, carved facings, roosters, and wooden towels bordered with lace-also of +wood; a carpet with a white runner on the stairs; in the front hall a stuffed +bear, holding a wooden platter for visiting cards in his out-stretched paws; a +parquet floor in the ballroom, heavy raspberry silk curtains and tulle on the +windows, along the walls white and gold chairs and mirrors with gilt frames; +there are two private cabinets with carpets, divans, and soft satin puffs; in +the bedrooms blue and rose lanterns, blankets of raw silk stuff and clean +pillows; the inmates are clad in low-cut ball gowns, bordered with fur, or in +expensive masquerade costumes of hussars, pages, fisher lasses, school-girls; +and the majority of them are Germans from the Baltic provinces—large, handsome +women, white of body and with ample breasts. At Treppel’s three roubles are +taken for a visit, and for the whole night, ten. +</p> + +<p> +Three of the two-rouble establishments—Sophie Vassilievna’s, The Old Kiev, and +Anna Markovna’s—are somewhat worse, somewhat poorer. The remaining houses on +Great Yamskaya are rouble ones; they are furnished still worse. While on Little +Yamskaya, which is frequented by soldiers, petty thieves, artisans, and drab +folk In general, and where fifty kopecks or less are taken for time, things are +altogether filthy and poor-the floor in the parlor is crooked, warped, and full +of splinters, the windows are hung with pieces of red fustian; the bedrooms, +just like stalls, are separated by thin partitions, which do not reach to the +ceiling, and on the beds, on top of the shaken down hay-mattresses, are +scattered torn, spotted bed-sheets and flannel blankets, dark from time, +crumpled any old way, full of holes; the air is sour and full of fumes, with a +mixture of alcohol vapours and the smell of human emanations; the women, +dressed in rags of coloured printed calico or in sailor costumes, are for the +greater part hoarse or snuffling, with noses half fallen through, with faces +preserving traces of yesterday’s blows and scratches and naively bepainted with +the aid of a red cigarette box moistened with spit. +</p> + +<p> +All the year round, every evening—with the exception of the last three days of +Holy Week and the night before Annunciation, when no bird builds its nest and a +shorn wench does not plait her braid—when it barely grows dark out of doors, +hanging red lanterns are lit before every house, above the tented, carved +street doors. It is just like a holiday out on the street—like Easter. All the +windows are brightly lit up, the gay music of violins and pianos floats out +through the panes, cabmen drive up and drive off without cease. In all the +houses the entrance doors are opened wide, and through them one may see from +the street a steep staircase with a narrow corridor on top, and the white +flashing of the many-facetted reflector of the lamp, and the green walls of the +front hall, painted over with Swiss landscapes. Till the very morning hundreds +and thousands of men ascend and descend these staircases. Here everybody +frequents: half-shattered, slavering ancients, seeking artificial excitements, +and boys-military cadets and high-school lads—almost children; bearded +paterfamiliases; honourable pillars of society, in golden spectacles; and +newly-weds, and enamoured bridegrooms, and honourable professors with renowned +names; and thieves, and murderers, and liberal lawyers; and strict guardians of +morals—pedagogues, and foremost writers—the authors of fervent, impassioned +articles on the equal rights of women; and catchpoles, and spies, and escaped +convicts, and officers, and students, and Social Democrats, and hired patriots; +the timid and the brazen, the sick and the well, those knowing woman for the +first time, and old libertines frayed by all species of vice; clear-eyed, +handsome fellows and monsters maliciously distorted by nature, deaf-mutes, +blind men, men without noses, with flabby, pendulous bodies, with malodorous +breath, bald, trembling, covered with parasites—pot-bellied, hemorrhoidal apes. +They come freely and simply, as to a restaurant or a depot; they sit, smoke, +drink, convulsively pretend to be merry; they dance, executing abominable +movements of the body imitative of the act of sexual love. At times attentively +and long, at times with gross haste, they choose any woman they like and know +beforehand that they will never meet refusal. Impatiently they pay their money +in advance, and on the public bed, not yet grown cold after the body of their +predecessor, aimlessly commit the very greatest and most beautiful of all +universal mysteries—the mystery of the conception of new life. And the women +with indifferent readiness, with uniform words, with practiced professional +movements, satisfy their desires, like machines—only to receive, right after +them, during the same night, with the very same words, smiles and gestures, the +third, the fourth, the tenth man, not infrequently already biding his turn in +the waiting room. +</p> + +<p> +So passes the entire night. Towards daybreak Yama little by little grows quiet, +and the bright morning finds it depopulated, spacious, plunged into sleep, with +doors shut tightly, with shutters fixed on the windows. But toward evening the +women awaken and get ready for the following night. +</p> + +<p> +And so without end, day after day, for months and years, they live a strange, +incredible life in their public harems, outcast by society, accursed by the +family, victims of the social temperament, cloacas for the excess of the city’s +sensuality, the guardians of the honour of the family—four hundred foolish, +lazy, hysterical, barren women. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0102"></a> CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p> +Two in the afternoon. In the second-rate, two-rouble establishment of Anna +Markovna everything is plunged in sleep. The large square parlor with mirrors +in gilt frames, with a score of plush chairs placed decorously along the walls, +with oleograph pictures of Makovsky’s Feast of the Russian Noblemen, and +Bathing, with a crystal lustre in the middle, is also sleeping, and in the +quiet and semi-darkness it seems unwontedly pensive, austere, strangely sad. +Yesterday here, as on every evening, lights burned, the most rollicking of +music rang out, blue tobacco smoke swirled, men and women careered in couples, +shaking their hips and throwing their legs on high. And the entire street shone +on the outside with the red lanterns over the street doors and with the light +from the windows, and it seethed with people and carriages until morning. +</p> + +<p> +Now the street is empty. It is glowing triumphantly and joyously in the glare +of the summer sun. But in the parlor all the window curtains are lowered, and +for that reason it is dark within, cool, and as peculiarly uninviting as the +interiors of empty theatres, riding academies and court buildings usually are +in the middle of the day. +</p> + +<p> +The pianoforte glimmers dully with its black, bent, glossy side; the yellow, +old, time-eaten, broken, gap-toothed keys glisten faintly. The stagnant, +motionless air still retains yesterday’s odour; it smells of perfumes, tobacco, +the sour dampness of a large uninhabited room, the perspiration of unclean and +unhealthy feminine flesh, face-powder, boracic-thymol soap, and the dust of the +yellow mastic with which the parquet floor had been polished yesterday. And +with a strange charm the smell of withering swamp grass is blended with these +smells. To-day is Trinity. In accordance with an olden custom, the chambermaids +of the establishment, while their ladies were still sleeping, had bought a +whole waggon of sedge on the market, and had strewn its long, thick blades, +that crunch underfoot, everywhere about—in the corridors, in the private +cabinets, in the drawing room. They, also, had lit the lamps before all the +images. The girls, by tradition, dare not do this with their hands, which have +been denied during the night. +</p> + +<p> +And the house-porter has adorned the house-entrance, which is carved in the +Russian style, with two little felled birch-trees. And so with all the +houses—the thin white trunks with their scant dying verdure adorn the exterior +near the stoops, bannisters and doors. +</p> + +<p> +The entire house is quiet, empty and drowsy. The chopping of cutlets for dinner +can be heard from the kitchen. Liubka, one of the girls, barefooted, in her +shift, with bare arms, not good-looking, freckled, but strong and fresh of +body, has come out into the inner court. Yesterday she had had but six guests +on time, but no one had remained for the night with her, and because of that +she had slept her fill—splendidly, delightfully, all alone, upon a wide bed. +She had risen early, at ten o’clock, and had with pleasure helped the cook +scrub the floor and the tables in the kitchen. Now she is feeding the chained +dog Amour with the sinews and cuttings of the meat. The big, rusty hound, with +long glistening hair and black muzzle, jumps up on the girl—with his front +paws, stretching the chain tightly and rattling in the throat from shortness of +breath, then, with back and tail undulating all over, bends his head down to +the ground, wrinkles his nose, smiles, whines and sneezes from the excitement. +But she, teasing him with the meat, shouts at him with pretended severity: +</p> + +<p> +“There, you—stupid! I’ll—I’ll give it to you! How dare you?” +</p> + +<p> +But she rejoices with all her soul over the tumult and caresses of Amour and +her momentary power over the dog, and because she had slept her fill, and +passed the night without a man, and because of the Trinity, according to dim +recollections of her childhood, and because of the sparkling sunny day, which +it so seldom befalls her to see. +</p> + +<p> +All the night guests have already gone their ways. The most business-like, +quiet and workaday hour is coming on. +</p> + +<p> +They are drinking coffee in the room of the proprietress. The company consists +of five people. The proprietress herself, in whose name the house is +registered, is Anna Markovna. She is about sixty. She is very small of stature, +but dumpy: she may be visualized by imagining, from the bottom up, three soft, +gelatinous globes—large, medium and small, pressed into each other without any +interstices; this—her skirt, torso and head. Strange, her eyes are a faded +blue, girlish, even childish, but the mouth is that of an old person, with a +moist lower lip of a raspberry colour, impotently hanging down. Her +husband—Isaiah Savvich—is also small, a grayish, quiet, silent little old man. +He is under his wife’s thumb; he was doorkeeper in this very house even at the +time when Anna Markovna served here as housekeeper. In order to be useful in +some way, he has learned, through self-instruction, to play the fiddle, and now +at night plays dance tunes, as well as a funeral march for shopmen far gone on +a spree and craving some maudlin tears. +</p> + +<p> +Then, there are the two housekeepers—senior and junior. The senior is Emma +Edwardovna. She is a tall, full woman of forty-six, with chestnut hair, and a +fat goitre of three chins. Her eyes are encircled with black rings of +hemorrhoidal origin. The face broadens out like a pear from the forehead down +to the cheeks, and is of an earthen colour; the eyes are small, black; the nose +humped, the lips sternly pursed; the expression of the face calmly +authoritative. It is no mystery to anyone in the house that in a year or two +Anna Markovna will go into retirement, and sell her the establishment with all +its rights and furnishings, when she will receive part in cash, and part on +terms—by promissory note. Because of this the girls honour her equally with the +proprietress and fear her somewhat. Those who fall into error she beats with +her own hands, beats cruelly, coolly, and calculatingly, without changing the +calm expression of her face. Among the girls there is always a favourite of +hers, whom she tortures with her exacting love and fantastic jealousy. And this +is far harder than her beatings. +</p> + +<p> +The other one is called Zociya. She has just struggled out of the ranks of the +common girls. The girls, as yet, call her impersonally, flatteringly and +familiarly, “little housekeeper.” She is spare, spry, just a trifle squinting, +with a rosy complexion, and hair dressed in a little curly pompadour; she +adores actors—preferably stout comedians. Toward Emma Edwardovna she is +ingratiating. +</p> + +<p> +The fifth person, finally, is the local district inspector, Kerbesh. This is an +athletic man; he is kind of bald, has a red beard like a fan, vividly blue +slumbrous eyes, and a thin, slightly hoarse, pleasant voice. Everybody knows +that he formerly served in the secret service division and was the terror of +crooks, thanks to his terrible physical strength and cruelty in interrogations. +</p> + +<p> +He has several shady transactions on his conscience. The whole town knows that +two years back he married a rich old woman of seventy, and that last year he +strangled her; however, he was somehow successful in hushing up this affair. +But for that matter, the remaining four have also seen a thing or two in their +chequered life. But, just as the bretteurs of old felt no twinges of conscience +at the recollection of their victims, even so do these people regard the dark +and bloody things in their past, as the unavoidable little unpleasantness of +their professions. +</p> + +<p> +They are drinking coffee with rich, boiled cream—the inspector with +Benedictine. But he, strictly speaking, is not drinking, but merely conveying +the impression that he is doing it to oblige. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what is it to be, Phoma Phornich?” asks the proprietress searchingly. +“This business isn’t worth an empty eggshell, now... Why, you have only to say +a word...” +</p> + +<p> +Kerbesh slowly draws in half a wine-glass of liqueur, works the oily, strong, +pungent liquid slightly with his tongue over the roof of his mouth, swallows +it, chases it down, without hurrying, with coffee, and then passes the ring +finger of his left hand over his moustaches, to the right and left. +</p> + +<p> +“Think it over for yourself, Madam Shoibes,” he says, looking down at the +table, spreading out his hands and screwing up his eyes. “Think of the risk to +which I’m exposed! The girl through means of deception was enticed into this... +what-you-may-call-it... well, in a word, into a house of ill-fame, to express +it in lofty style. Now the parents are searching for her through the police. +Ve-ery well. She gets into one place after another, from the fifth into the +tenth... Finally the trail is picked up with you, and most important of +all—think of it!—in my district! What can I do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Kerbesh, but she is of age,” says the proprietress. +</p> + +<p> +“They are of age,” confirms Isaiah Savvich. “They gave an acknowledgment, that +it was of their own will...” +</p> + +<p> +Emma Edwardovna pronounces in a bass, with cool assurance: +</p> + +<p> +“Honest to God, she’s the same here as an own daughter.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that’s not what I am talking about,” the inspector frowns in vexation. +“Just consider my position... Why, this is duty. Lord, there’s no end of +unpleasantnesses without that!” +</p> + +<p> +The proprietress suddenly arises, shuffles in her slippers to the door, and +says, winking to the inspector with a sleepy, expressionless eye of faded blue: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Kerbesh, I would ask you to have a look at our alterations. We want to +enlarge the place a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“A-ah! With pleasure...” +</p> + +<p> +After ten minutes both return, without looking at each other. Kerbesh’s hand is +crunching a brand-new hundred rouble note in his pocket. The conversation about +the seduced girl is not renewed. The inspector, hastily finishing his +Benedictine, complains of the present decline in manners. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a son, now, a schoolboy—Paul. He comes to me, the scoundrel, and +declares: ’Papa, the pupils swear at me, because you are a policeman, and +because you serve on Yamskaya, and because you take bribes from brothels.’ +Well, tell me, for God’s sake, Madam Shoibes, if that isn’t effrontery?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ai, ai, ai! ... And what bribes can there be? Now with me...” +</p> + +<p> +“I say to him: ’Go, you good-for-nothing, and let the principal know, that +there should be no more of this, otherwise papa will inform on all of you to +the governor.’ And what do you think? He comes to me and says: ’I am no longer +a son to you—seek another son for yourself.’ What an argument! Well, I gave him +enough to last till the first of the month! Oho-ho! Now he doesn’t want to +speak with me. Well, I’ll show him yet!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you don’t have to tell us,” sighs Anna Markovna, letting her lower, +raspberry-coloured lip hang down and with a mist coming over her faded eyes. +“We keep our Birdie—she is in Fleisher’s high school—we purposely keep her in +town, in a respectable family. You understand, it is awkward, after all. And +all of a sudden she brings such words and expressions from the high school that +I just simply turned all red.” +</p> + +<p> +“Honest to God, Annochka turned all red,” confirms Isaiah Savvich. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll turn red, all right!” warmly agrees the inspector. “Yes, yes, yes, I +understand you fully. But, my God, where are we going! Where are we only going? +I ask you, what are these revolutionaries and all these various students, or... +what-you-may-call-’ems? ... trying to attain? And let them put the blame on +none but themselves. Corruption is everywhere, morality is falling, there is no +respect for parents. They ought to be shot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, the day before yesterday we had a case,” Zociya mixes in +bustlingly. “A certain guest came, a stout man...” +</p> + +<p> +“Drop it!” Emma Edwardovna, who was listening to the inspector, piously nodding +with her head bowed to one side, cuts her short in the jargon of the brothels. +“You’d better go and see about breakfast for the young ladies.” +</p> + +<p> +“And not a single person can be relied upon,” continues the proprietress +grumblingly. “Not a servant but what she’s a stiff, a faker. And all the girls +ever think about is their lovers. Just so’s they may have their own pleasure. +But about their duties they don’t even think.” +</p> + +<p> +There is an awkward silence. Some one knocks on the door. A thin, feminine +voice speaks on the other side of the door: +</p> + +<p> +“Housekeeper, dear, take the money and be kind enough to give me the stamps. +Pete’s gone.” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector gets up and adjusts his sabre. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s time I was going to work. Best regards, Anna Markovna. Best wishes, +Isaiah Savvich.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you’ll have one more little glass for a stirrup cup?” the nearly blind +Isaiah Savvich thrusts himself over the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Tha-ank you. I can’t. Full to the gills. Honoured, I’m sure! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks for your company. Drop in some time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Always glad to be your guest, sir. Au revoir!” +</p> + +<p> +But in the doorway he stops for a minute and says significantly: +</p> + +<p> +“But still, my advice to you is—you’d better pass this girl on to some place or +other in good time. Of course, it’s your affair, but as a good friend of yours +I give you warning.” +</p> + +<p> +He goes away. When his steps are abating on the stairs and the front door bangs +to behind him, Emma Edwardovna snorts through her nose and says contemptuously: +</p> + +<p> +“Stool-pigeon! He wants to take money both here and there...” +</p> + +<p> +Little by little they all crawl apart out of the room. It is dark in the house. +It smells sweetly of the half-withered sedge. Quiet reigns. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0103"></a> CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p> +Until dinner, which is served at six in the evening, the time drags endlessly +long and with intolerable monotony. And, in general, this daily interval is the +heaviest and emptiest in the life of the house. It remotely resembles in its +moods those slothful, empty hours which are lived through during the great +holidays in scholastic institutes and other private institutions for females, +when all the friends have dispersed, when there is much leisure and much +indolence, and a radiant, agreeable tedium reigns the whole day. In only their +petticoats and white shifts, with bare arms, sometimes barefooted, the women +aimlessly ramble from room to room, all of them unwashed, uncombed; lazily +strike the keys of the old pianoforte with the index finger, lazily lay out +cards to tell their fortune, lazily exchange curses, and with a languishing +irritation await the evening. +</p> + +<p> +Liubka, after breakfast, had carried out the leavings of bread and the cuttings +of ham to Amour, but the dog had soon palled upon her. Together with Niura she +had bought some barberry bon-bons and sunflower seeds, and now both are +standing behind the fence separating the house from the street, gnawing the +seeds, the shells of which remain on their chins and bosoms, and speculate +indifferently about those who pass on the street: about the lamp-lighter, +pouring kerosene into the street lamps, about the policeman with the daily +registry book under his arm, about the housekeeper from somebody else’s +establishment, running across the road to the general store. +</p> + +<p> +Niura is a small girl, with goggle-eyes of blue; she has white, flaxen hair and +little blue veins on her temples. In her face there is something stolid and +innocent, reminiscent of a white sugar lamb on a Paschal cake. She is lively, +bustling, curious, puts her nose into everything, agrees with everybody, is the +first to know the news, and, when she speaks, she speaks so much and so rapidly +that spray flies out of her mouth and bubbles effervescence on the red lips, as +in children. +</p> + +<p> +Opposite, out of the dram-shop, a servant pops out for a minute—a curly, +besotted young fellow with a cast in his eye—and runs into the neighbouring +public house. +</p> + +<p> +“Prokhor Ivanovich, oh Prokhor Ivanovich,” shouts Niura, “don’t you want +some?—I’ll treat you to some sunflower seeds!” +</p> + +<p> +“Come on in and pay us a visit,” Liubka chimes in. +</p> + +<p> +Niura snorts and adds through the laughter which suffocates her: +</p> + +<p> +“Warm your feet for a while!” +</p> + +<p> +But the front door opens; in it appears the formidable and stern figure of the +senior housekeeper. +</p> + +<p> +“Pfui![2] What sort of indecency is this!” she cries commandingly. “How many +times must it be repeated to you, that you must not jump out on the street +during the day, and also—pfui!—only in your underwear. I can’t understand how +you have no conscience yourselves. Decent girls, who respect themselves, must +not demean themselves that way in public. It seems, thank God, that you are not +in an establishment catering to soldiers, but in a respectable house. Not in +Little Yamskaya.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[2] A German exclamation of disgust or contempt, corresponding to the English +fie.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +The girls return into the house, get into the kitchen, and for a long time sit +there on tabourets, contemplating the angry cook Prascoviya, swinging their +legs and silently gnawing the sunflower seeds. +</p> + +<p> +In the room of Little Manka, who is also called Manka the Scandaliste and +Little White Manka, a whole party has gathered. Sitting on the edge of the bed, +she and another girl—Zoe, a tall handsome girl, with arched eyebrows, with +grey, somewhat bulging eyes, with the most typical, white, kind face of the +Russian prostitute—are playing at cards, playing at “sixty-six.” Little Manka’s +closest friend, Jennie, is lying behind their backs on the bed, prone on her +back, reading a tattered book, The Queen’s Necklace, the work of Monsieur +Dumas, and smoking. In the entire establishment she is the only lover of +reading and reads intoxicatingly and without discrimination. But, contrary to +expectation, the forced reading of novels of adventure has not at all made her +sentimental and has not vitiated her imagination. Above all, she likes in +novels a long intrigue, cunningly thought out and deftly disentangled; +magnificent duels, before which the viscount unties the laces of his shoes to +signify that he does not intend to retreat even a step from his position,[3] +and after which the marquis, having spitted the count through, apologizes for +having made an opening in his splendid new waistcoat; purses, filled to the +full with gold, carelessly strewn to the left and right by the chief heroes; +the love adventures and witticisms of Henry IV—in a word, all this spiced +heroism, in gold and lace, of the past centuries of French history. In everyday +life, on the contrary, she is sober of mind, jeering, practical and cynically +malicious. In her relation to the other girls of the establishment she occupies +the same place that in private educational institutions is accorded to the +first strong man, the man spending a second year in the same grade, the first +beauty in the class—tyrannizing and adored. She is a tall, thin brunette, with +beautiful hazel eyes, a small proud mouth, a little moustache on the upper lip +and with a swarthy, unhealthy pink on her cheeks. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[3] Probably a sly dig at Gautier’s Captain Fracasse.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +Without letting the cigarette out of her mouth and screwing up her eyes from +the smoke, all she does is to turn the pages constantly with a moistened +finger. Her legs are bare to the knees; the enormous balls of the feet are of +the most vulgar form; below the big toes stand out pointed, ugly, irregular +tumours. +</p> + +<p> +Here also, with her legs crossed, slightly bent, with some sewing, sits +Tamara—a quiet, easy-going, pretty girl, slightly reddish, with that dark and +shining tint of hair which is to be found on the back of a fox in winter. Her +real name is Glycera, or Lukeria, as the common folk say it. But it is already +an ancient usage of the houses of ill-fame to replace the uncouth names of the +Matrenas, Agathas, Cyclitinias with sonorous, preferably exotic names. Tamara +had at one time been a nun, or, perhaps, merely a novice in a convent, and to +this day there have been preserved on her face timidity and a pale puffiness—a +modest and sly expression, which is peculiar to young nuns. She holds herself +aloof in the house, does not chum with any one, does not initiate any one into +her past life. But in her case there must have been many more adventures +besides having been a nun: there is something mysterious, taciturn and criminal +in her unhurried speech, in the evasive glance of her deep and dark-gold eyes +from under the long, lowered eyelashes, in her manners, her sly smiles and +intonations of a modest but wanton would-be saint. There was one occurrence +when the girls, with well-nigh reverent awe, heard that Tamara could talk +fluently in French and German. She has within her some sort of an inner, +restrained power. Notwithstanding her outward meekness and complaisance, all in +the establishment treat her with respect and circumspection—the proprietress, +and her mates, and both housekeepers, and even the doorkeeper, that veritable +sultan of the house of ill-fame, that general terror and hero. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve covered it,” says Zoe and turns over the trump which had been lying under +the pack, wrong side up. “I’m going with forty, going with an ace of spades—a +ten-spot, Mannechka, if you please. I’m through. Fifty-seven, eleven, +sixty-eight. How much have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thirty,” says Manka in an offended tone, pouting her lips; “oh, it’s all very +well for you—you remember all the plays. Deal ... Well, what’s after that, +Tamarochka?” she turns to her friend. “You talk on—I’m listening.” +</p> + +<p> +Zoe shuffles the old, black, greasy cards, allows Manya to cut, then deals, +having first spat upon her fingers. +</p> + +<p> +Tamara in the meanwhile is narrating to Manya in a quiet voice, without +dropping her sewing. +</p> + +<p> +“We embroidered with gold, in flat embroidery—altar covers, palls, bishops’ +vestments... With little grasses, with flowers, little crosses. In winter, +you’d be sitting near a casement; the panes are small, with gratings, there +isn’t much light, it smells of lamp oil, incense, cypress; you mustn’t talk—the +mother superior was strict. Some one from weariness would begin droning a +pre-Lenten first verse of a hymn ... ‘When I consider thy heavens ...’ We sang +fine, beautifully, and it was such a quiet life, and the smell was so fine; you +could see the flaky snow out the windows—well, now, just like in a dream...” +</p> + +<p> +Jennie puts the tattered novel down on her stomach, throws the cigarette over +Zoe’s head, and says mockingly: +</p> + +<p> +“We know all about your quiet life. You chucked the infants into toilets. The +Evil One is always snooping around your holy places.” +</p> + +<p> +“I call forty. I had forty-six. Finished!” Little Manka exclaims excitedly and +claps her palms. “I open with three.” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara, smiling at Jennie’s words, answers with a scarcely perceptible smile, +which barely distends her lips, but makes little, sly, ambiguous depressions at +their corners, altogether as with Monna Lisa in the portrait by Leonardo da +Vinci. +</p> + +<p> +“Lay folk say a lot of things about nuns ... Well, even if there had been sin +once in a while ...” +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t sin—you don’t repent,” Zoe puts in seriously, and wets her finger +in her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“You sit and sew, the gold eddies before your eyes, while from standing in the +morning at prayer your back just aches, and your legs ache. And at evening +there is service again. You knock at the door of the mother superior’s cell: +‘Through prayers of Thy saints, oh Lord, our Father, have mercy upon us.’ And +the mother superior would answer from the cell, in a little bass-like ‘A-men.’” +</p> + +<p> +Jennie looks at her intently for some time, shakes her head and says with great +significance: +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a queer girl, Tamara. Here I’m looking at you and wondering. Well, now, +I can understand how these fools, on the manner of Sonka, play at love. That’s +what they’re fools for. But you, it seems, have been roasted on all sorts of +embers, have been washed in all sorts of lye, and yet you allow yourself +foolishness of that sort. What are you embroidering that shirt for?” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara, without haste, with a pin refastens the fabric more conveniently on her +knee, smooths the seam down with the thimble, and speaks, without raising the +narrowed eyes, her head bent just a trifle to one side: +</p> + +<p> +“One’s got to be doing something. It’s wearisome just so. I don’t play at +cards, and I don’t like them.” +</p> + +<p> +Jennie continues to shake her head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you’re a queer girl, really you are. You always have more from the guests +than all of us get. You fool, instead of saving money, what do you spend it on? +You buy perfumes at seven roubles the bottle. Who needs it? And now you have +bought fifteen roubles’ worth of silk. Isn’t this for your Senka, now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, for Sennechka.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a treasure you’ve found, to be sure! A miserable thief. He rides up to +this establishment like some general. How is it he doesn’t beat you yet? The +thieves—they like that. And he plucks you, have no fear?” +</p> + +<p> +“More than I want to, I won’t give,” meekly answers Tamara and bites the thread +in two. +</p> + +<p> +“Now that is just what I wonder at. With your mind, your beauty, I would put +such rings-around-a-rosie about a guest like that, that he’d take me and set me +up. I’d have horses of my own, and diamonds.” +</p> + +<p> +“Everyone to his tastes, Jennechka. You too, now, are a very pretty and darling +girl, and your character is so independent and brave, and yet you and I have +gotten stuck in Anna Markovna’s.” +</p> + +<p> +Jennie flares up and answers with unsimulated bitterness: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes! Why not! All things come your way! ...You have all the very best guests. +You do what you want with them, but with me it’s always either old men or +suckling babies. I have no luck. The ones are snotty, the others have yellow +around the mouth. More than anything else, now, I dislike the little boys. He +comes, the little varmint; he’s cowardly, he hurries, he trembles, but having +done the business, he doesn’t know what to do with his eyes for shame. He’s all +squirming from disgust. I just feel like giving him one in the snout. Before +giving you the rouble, he holds it in his pocket in his fist, and that rouble’s +all hot, even sweaty. The milksop! His mother gives him a ten kopeck piece for +a French roll with sausage, but he’s economized out of that for a wench. I had +one little cadet in the last few days. So just on purpose, to spite him, I say: +‘Here, my dearie, here’s a little caramel for you on your way; when you’re +going back to your corps, you’ll suck on it.’ So at first he got offended, but +afterwards took it. Later I looked from the stoop, on purpose; just as soon as +he walked out, he looked around, and right away into his mouth with the +caramel. The little swine!” +</p> + +<p> +“But with old men it’s still worse,” says Little Manka in a tender voice, and +slyly looks at Zoe. “What do you think, Zoinka?” +</p> + +<p> +Zoe, who had already finished playing, and was just about to yawn, now cannot +in any way give rein to her yawns. She does not know whether she wants to be +angry or to laugh. She has a steady visitor, some little old man in a high +station, with perverted erotic habits. The entire establishment makes fun of +his visits to her. +</p> + +<p> +Zoe at last succeeds in yawning. +</p> + +<p> +“To the devil’s dam with all of you,” she says, with her voice hoarse after the +yawn; “may he be damned, the old anathema!” +</p> + +<p> +“But still, the worst of all,” Jennie continues to discourse, “worse than your +director, Zoinka, worse than my cadet, the worst of all—are your lovers. What +can there be joyous in this: he comes drunk, poses, makes sport of you, wants +to pretend there’s something in him—only nothing comes of it all. Wha-at a +lad-die, to be sure! The scummiest of the scum, dirty, beaten-up, stinking, his +whole body in scars, there’s only one glory about him: the silk shirt which +Tamarka will embroider for him. He curses one’s mother, the son of a bitch, +always aching for a fight. Ugh! No!” she suddenly exclaimed in a merry +provoking voice, “The one I love truly and surely, for ever and ever, is my +Mannechka, Manka the white, little Manka, my Manka-Scandalistochka.” +</p> + +<p> +And unexpectedly, having embraced Manya by the shoulders and bosom, she drew +her toward herself, threw her down on the bed, and began to kiss deeply and +vigorously her hair, eyes, lips. Manka with difficulty tore herself away from +her, with dishevelled, bright, fine, downy hair, all rosy from the resistance, +and with eyes downcast and moist from shame and laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave off, Jennechka, leave off. Well, now, what are you doing? Let me go!” +</p> + +<p> +Little Manya is the meekest and quietest girl in the entire establishment. She +is kind, yielding, can never refuse anybody’s request, and involuntarily +everybody treats her with great gentleness. She blushes over every trifle, and +at such time becomes especially attractive, as only very tender blondes with a +sensitive skin can be attractive. But it is sufficient for her to drink three +or four glasses of Liqueur Benedictine, of which she is very fond, for her to +become unrecognizable and to create brawls, such, that there is always required +the intervention of the housekeepers, the porter, at times even the police. It +is nothing for her to hit a guest in the face or to throw in his face a glass +filled with wine, to overturn the lamp, to curse out the proprietress, Jennie +treats her with some strange, tender patronage and rough adoration. +</p> + +<p> +“Ladies, to dinner! To dinner, ladies!” calls Zociya the housekeeper, running +along the corridor. On the run she opens the door into Manya’s room and drops +hurriedly: +</p> + +<p> +“To dinner, to dinner, ladies!” +</p> + +<p> +They go again to the kitchen, all still in their underwear, all unwashed, in +slippers and barefoot. A tasty vegetable soup of pork rinds and tomatoes, +cutlets, and pastry-cream rolls are served. But no one has any appetite, thanks +to the sedentary life and irregular sleep, and also because the majority of the +girls, just like school-girls on a holiday, had already managed during the day +to send to the store for halvah, nuts, rakkat loukoum (Turkish Delight), +dill-pickles and molasses candy, and had through this spoiled their appetites. +Only Nina alone—a small, pug-nosed, snuffling country girl, seduced only two +months ago by a travelling salesman, and (also by him) sold into a brothel—eats +for four. The inordinate, provident appetite of a woman of the common people +has not yet disappeared in her. +</p> + +<p> +Jennie, who has only picked fastidiously at her cutlet and eaten half her cream +roll, speaks to her in a tone of hypocritical solicitude: +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Pheclusha, you might just as well eat my cutlet, too. Eat, my dear, +eat; don’t be bashful—you ought to be gaining in health. But do you know what +I’ll tell you, ladies?” she turns to her mates, “Why, our Pheclusha has a +tape-worm, and when a person has a tape-worm, he always eats for two: half for +himself, half for the worm.” +</p> + +<p> +Nina sniffs angrily and answers in a bass which comes as a surprise from one of +her stature, and through her nose: +</p> + +<p> +“There are no tape-worms in me. It’s you that has the tape-worms, that’s why +you are so skinny.” +</p> + +<p> +And she imperturbably continues to eat, and after dinner feels herself sleepy, +like a boa constrictor, eructs loudly, drinks water, hiccups, and, by stealth, +if no one sees her, makes the sign of the cross over her mouth, through an old +habit. +</p> + +<p> +But already the ringing voice of Zociya can be heard through the corridors and +rooms: +</p> + +<p> +“Get dressed, ladies, get dressed. There’s no use in sitting around...To +work...” +</p> + +<p> +After a few minutes in all the rooms of the establishment there are smells of +singed hair, boric-thymol soap, cheap eau-de-cologne. The girls are dressing +for the evening. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0104"></a> CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<p> +The late twilight came on, and after it the warm, dark night, but for long, +until very midnight, did the deep crimson glow of the sky still smoulder. +Simeon, the porter of the establishment, has lit all the lamps along the walls +of the drawing room, and the lustre, as well as the red lantern over the stoop. +Simeon was a spare, stocky, taciturn and harsh man, with straight, broad +shoulders, dark-haired, pock-marked, with little bald spots on his eye-brows +and moustaches from small-pox, and with black, dull, insolent eyes. By day he +was free and slept, while at night he sat without absenting himself in the +front hall under the reflector, in order to help the guests with their coats +and to be ready in case of any disorder. +</p> + +<p> +The pianist came—a tall, elegant young man, with white eyebrows and eyelashes, +and a cataract in his right eye. The while there were no guests, he and Isaiah +Savvich quietly rehearsed Pas d’Espagne, at that time coming into fashion. For +every dance ordered by the guests, they received thirty kopecks for an easy +dance, and a half rouble for a quadrille. But one-half of this price was taken +out by the proprietress, Anna Markovna; the other, however, the musicians +divided evenly. In this manner the pianist received only a quarter of the +general earnings, which, of course, was unjust, since Isaiah Savvich played as +one self-taught and was distinguished for having no more ear for music than a +piece of wood. The pianist was constantly compelled to drag him on to new +tunes, to correct and cover his mistakes with loud chords. The girls said of +their pianist to the guests, with a certain pride, that he had been in the +conservatory and always ranked as the first pupil, but since he is a Jew, and +in addition to that his eyes had begun to trouble him, he had not succeeded in +completing the course. They all treated him carefully and considerately, with +some sort of solicitous, somewhat mawkish, commiseration, which chimes so well +with the inner, backstage customs of houses of ill-fame, where underneath the +outer coarseness and the flaunting of obscene words dwells the same sweetish, +hysterical sentimentality as in female boarding schools, and, so they say, in +penal institutions. +</p> + +<p> +In the house of Anna Markovna everybody was already dressed and ready for the +reception of the guests, and languishing from inaction and expectation. Despite +the fact that the majority of the women experienced toward men—with the +exception of their lovers—a complete, even somewhat squeamish, indifference, +before every evening dim hopes came to life and stirred within their souls; it +was unknown who would choose them, whether something unusual, funny and +alluring might not happen, whether a guest would not astonish with his +generosity, whether there would not be some miracle which would overturn the +whole life...In these presentiments and hopes was something akin to those +emotions which the accustomed gamester experiences when counting his ready +money before starting out for his club. Besides that, despite their asexuality, +they still had not lost the chiefest instinctive aspiration of women—to please. +</p> + +<p> +And, in truth, altogether curious personages came into the house at times and +ludicrous, motley events arose. The police would appear suddenly together with +disguised detectives and arrest some seemingly respectable, irreproachable +gentlemen and lead them off, pushing them along with blows in the neck. At +times brawls would spring up between the drunken, trouble-making company and +the porters of all the establishments, who had gathered on the run for the +relief of a fellow porter—a brawl, during which the window-panes and the decks +of grand-pianos were broken, when the legs of the plush chairs were wrenched +out for weapons, blood ran over the parquet floor of the drawing room and the +steps of the stairs, and people with pierced sides and broken heads fell down +into the dirt near the street entrance, to the feral, avid delight of Jennka, +who, with burning eyes, with happy laughter, went into the thickest of the +melee, slapped herself on the hips, swore and sicked them on, while her mates +were squealing from fear and hiding under the beds. +</p> + +<p> +There were occurrences when there would arrive, with a pack of parasites, some +member of a workingmen’s association or a cashier, long since far gone in an +embezzlement of many thousands through gambling at cards and hideous orgies, +and now, in a drunken, senseless delirium, tossing the last money after the +other, before suicide or the prisoner’s box. Then the doors and windows of the +house would be tightly closed, and for two days and nights at a stretch a +Russian orgy would go on—nightmarish, tedious, savage, with screams and tears, +with revilement over the body of woman; paradisaical nights were gotten up, +during which naked, drunken, bow-legged, hairy, pot-bellied men, and women with +flabby, yellow, pendulous thin bodies hideously grimaced to the music; they +drank and guzzled like swine, on the beds and on the floor, amidst the stifling +atmosphere, permeated with spirits, befouled with human respiration and the +exhalations of unclean skins. +</p> + +<p> +Occasionally, there would appear a circus athlete, creating in the low-ceiled +quarters a strangely cumbersome impression, somewhat like that of a horse led +into a room; a Chinaman in a blue blouse, white stockings, and with a queue; a +negro from a cabaret, in a tuxedo coat and checked pantaloons, with a flower in +his button-hole, and with starched linen, which, to the amazement of the girls, +not only did not soil from the black skin, but appeared still more dazzlingly +white. +</p> + +<p> +These rare people fomented the satiated imagination of the prostitutes, excited +their exhausted sensuality and professional curiosity, and all of them, almost +enamoured, would walk in their steps, jealous and bickering with one another. +</p> + +<p> +There was one incident when Simeon had let into the room an elderly man, +dressed like a bourgeois. There was nothing exceptional about him; he had a +stern, thin face, with bony, evil-looking cheek-bones, protruding like tumours, +a low forehead, a beard like a wedge, bushy eyebrows, one eye perceptibly +higher than the other. Having entered, he raised his fingers, folded for the +sign of the cross, to his forehead, but having searched the corners with his +eyes and finding no image, he did not in the least grow confused, put down his +hand, and at once with a business-like air walked up to the fattest girl in the +establishment—Kitty. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go!” he commanded curtly, and with determination nodded his head in the +direction of the door. +</p> + +<p> +During the entire period of her absence the omniscious Simeon, with a +mysterious, and even somewhat proud air, managed to inform Niura, at that time +his mistress, while she, in a whisper, with horror in her rounded eyes, told +her mates, in secret, that the name of the bourgeois was Dyadchenko, and that +last fall he had volunteered, owing to the absence of the hangman, to carry out +the execution of eleven rioters, and with his own hands had hung them in two +mornings. And—monstrous as it may be—at that hour there was not in the +establishment a single girl who did not feel envy toward the fat Kitty, and did +not experience a painful, keen, vertiginous curiosity. When Dyadchenko was +going away half an hour later—with his sedate and stern air, all the women +speechlessly, with their mouths gaping, escorted him to the street door and +afterwards watched him from the windows as he walked along the street. Then +they rushed into the room of the dressing Kitty and overwhelmed her with +interrogations. They looked with a new feeling, almost with astonishment, at +her bare, red, thick arms, at the bed, still crumpled, at the old, greasy, +paper rouble, which Kitty showed them, having taken it out of her stocking. +Kitty could tell them nothing. “A man like any man, like all men,” she said +with a calm incomprehension; but when she found out who her visitor had been, +she suddenly burst into tears, without herself knowing why. +</p> + +<p> +This man, the outcast of outcasts, fallen as low as the fancy of man can +picture, this voluntary headsman, had treated her without rudeness, but with +such absence of even a hint at endearment, with such disdain and wooden +indifference, as no human being is treated; not even a dog or a horse, and not +even an umbrella, overcoat or hat, but like some dirty, unclean object, for +which a momentary, unavoidable need arises, but which, at the passing of its +needfulness, becomes foreign, useless, and disgusting. The entire horror of +this thought the fat Kate could not embrace with her brain of a fattened turkey +hen, and because of that cried—as it seemed even to her—without cause and +reason. +</p> + +<p> +There were also other happenings, which stirred up the turbid, foul life of +these poor, sick, silly, unfortunate women. There were cases of savage, +unbridled jealousy with pistol shots and poisoning; occasionally, very rarely, +a tender, flaming and pure love would blossom out upon this dung; occasionally +the women even abandoned an establishment with the help of the loved man, but +almost always came back. Two or three times it happened that a woman from a +brothel would suddenly prove pregnant—and this always seemed, on the face of +it, laughable and disgraceful, but touching in the profundity of the event. +</p> + +<p> +And no matter what may have happened, every evening brought with it such an +irritating, strained, spicy expectation of adventures that every other life, +after that in a house of ill-fame, would have seemed flat and humdrum to these +lazy women of no will power. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0105"></a> CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<p> +The windows are opened wide to the fragrant darkness of the evening, and the +tulle curtains stir faintly back and forth from the imperceptible movement of +the air. It smells of dewy grass from the consumptive little garden in front of +the house, and just the least wee bit of lilac and the withering birch leaves +of the little trees placed near the entrance because of the Trinity. Liuba, in +a blue velvet blouse with low cut bosom, and Niura, dressed as a “baby,” in a +pink, wide sacque to the knees, with her bright hair loose and with little +curls on her forehead, are lying embraced on the window-sill, and are singing +in a low voice a song about the hospital, which song is the rage of the day and +exceedingly well known among prostitutes. Niura, through her nose, leads in a +high voice. +</p> + +<p> +Liuba seconds her with a stifled alto: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Monday now is come again,<br/> +They’re supposed to get me out;<br/> +Doctor Krasov won’t let me out ...” +</p> + +<p> +In all the houses the windows are brightly lit, while hanging lanterns are +burning before the entrances. To both girls the interior in the establishment +of Sophia Vasilievna, which is directly opposite, is distinctly visible—the +shining yellow parquet, draperies of a dark cherry colour on the doors, caught +up with cords, the end of a black grand-piano, a pier glass in a gilt frame, +and the figures of women in gorgeous dresses, now flashing at the windows, now +disappearing, and their reflections in the mirrors. The carved stoop of +Treppel, to the right, is brightly illuminated by a bluish electric light in a +big frosted globe. +</p> + +<p> +The evening is calm and warm. Somewhere far, far away, beyond the line of the +railroads, beyond some black roofs and the thin black trunks of trees, down low +over the dark earth in which the eye does not see but rather senses the mighty +green tone of spring, reddens with a scarlet gold the narrow, long streak of +the sunset glow, which has pierced the dove-coloured mist. And in this +indistinct, distant light, in the caressing air, in the scents of the oncoming +night, was some secret, sweet, conscious mournfulness, which usually is so +gentle in the evenings between spring and summer. The indistinct noise of the +city floated in, the dolorous, snuffling air of an accordeon, the mooing of +cows could be heard; somebody’s soles were scraping dryly and a ferruled cane +rapped resoundingly on the flags of the pavement; lazily and irregularly the +wheels of a cabman’s victoria, rolling at a pace through Yama, would rumble by, +and all these sounds mingled with a beauty and softness in the pensive +drowsiness of the evening. And the whistles of the locomotives on the line of +the railroad, which was marked out in the darkness with green and red lights, +sounded with a quiet, singing caution. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Now the nurse is co-oming in,<br/> +Bringing sugar and a roll,<br/> +Bringing sugar and a roll,<br/> +Deals them equally to all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Prokhor Ivanich!” Niura suddenly calls after the curly waiter from the +dram-shop, who, a light black silhouette, is running across the road. “Oh, +Prokhor Ivanich!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, bother you!” the other snarls hoarsely. “What now?” +</p> + +<p> +“A friend of yours sent you his regards. I saw him today.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of friend?” +</p> + +<p> +“Such a little good-looker! An attractive little brunet ...No, but you’d better +ask—where did I see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, where?” Prokhor Ivanovich comes to a stop for a minute. +</p> + +<p> +“And here’s where: nailed over there, on the fifth shelf with old hats, where +we keep all dead cats.” +</p> + +<p> +“Scat! You darn fool!” +</p> + +<p> +Niura laughs shrilly over all Yama, and throws herself down on the sill, +kicking her legs in high black stockings. Afterward, having ceased laughing, +she all of a sudden makes round astonished eyes and says in a whisper: +</p> + +<p> +“But do you know, girlie—why, he cut a woman’s throat the year before last—that +same Prokhor. Honest to God!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so? Did she die?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she didn’t. She got by,” says Niura, as though with regret. “But just the +same she lay for two months in the Alexandrovskaya Hospital. The doctors said, +that if it were only this teen-weeny bit higher—then it would have been all +over. Bye-bye!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what did he do that to her for?” +</p> + +<p> +“How should I know? Maybe she hid money from him or wasn’t true to him. He was +her lover—her pimp.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and what did he get for it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, nothing. There was no evidence of any kind. There had been a free-for-all +mix-up. About a hundred people were fighting. She also told the police that she +had no suspicions of any sort. But Prokhor himself boasted afterwards: ‘I,’ +says he, ‘didn’t do for Dunka that time, but I’ll finish her off another time. +She,’ says he, ‘won’t get by my hands. I’m going to give her the works.’” +</p> + +<p> +A shiver runs all the way down Liuba’s back. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re desperate fellows, these pimps!” she pronounces quietly, with horror +in her voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Something terrible! I, you know, played at love with our Simeon for a whole +year. Such a Herod, the skunk! I didn’t have a whole spot on me. I always went +about in black and blue marks. And it wasn’t for any reason at all, but just +simply so—he’d go in the morning into a room with me, lock himself in, and +start in to torture me. He’d wrench my arms, pinch my breasts, grab my throat +and begin to strangle me. Or else he’d be kissing, kissing, and then he’d bite +the lips so that the blood would just spurt out ... I’d start crying—but that’s +all he was looking for. Then he’d just pounce an me like a beast—simply +shivering all over. And he’d take all my money away—well, now, to the very last +little copper. There wasn’t anything to buy ten cigarettes with. He’s stingy, +this here Simeon, that’s what, always into the bank-book with it, always +putting it away into the bank-book... Says when he gets a thousand roubles +together—he’ll go into a monastery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on!” +</p> + +<p> +“Honest to God. You look into his little room: the twenty-four hours round, day +and night, the little holy lamp burns before the images. He’s very strong for +God ... Only I think that he’s that way because there’s heavy sins upon him. +He’s a murderer.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you saying?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, let’s drop talking about him, Liubochka. Well, let’s go on further: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go to the drug store, buy me some poison, And I will poison then meself.” +</p> + +<p> +Niura starts off in a very high, thin voice. +</p> + +<p> +Jennie walks back and forth in the room, with arms akimbo, swaying as she +walks, and looking at herself in all the mirrors. She has on a short orange +satin dress, with straight deep pleats in the skirt, which vacillates evenly to +the left and right from the movement of her hips. Little Manka, a passionate +lover of card games, ready to play from morning to morning, without stopping, +is playing away at “sixty-six” with Pasha, during which both women, for +convenience in dealing, have left an empty chair between them, while they +gather their tricks into their skirts, spread out between their knees. Manka +has on a brown, very modest dress, with black apron and pleated black bib; this +dress is very becoming to her dainty, fair little head and small stature; it +makes her younger and gives her the appearance of a high-school undergraduate. +</p> + +<p> +Her partner Pasha is a very queer and unhappy girl. She should have been, long +ago, not in a house of ill-fame, but in a psychiatric ward, because of an +excruciating nervous malady, which compels her to give herself up, frenziedly, +with an unwholesome avidity, to any man whatsoever who may choose her, even the +most repulsive. Her mates make sport of her and despise her somewhat for this +vice, just as though for some treason to their corporate enmity toward men. +Niura, with very great versimilitude, mimics her sighs, groans, outcries and +passionate words, from which she can never refrain in the moments of ecstasy +and which are to be heard in the neighbouring rooms through two or three +partitions. There is a rumour afloat about Pasha, that she got into a brothel +not at all through necessity or temptation or deception, but had gone into it +her own self, voluntarily, following her horrible, insatiable instinct. But the +proprietress of the house and both the housekeepers indulge Pasha in every way +and encourage her insane weakness, because, thanks to it, Pasha is in constant +demand and earns four, five times as much as any one of the remaining +girls—earns so much, that on busy gala days she is not brought out to the more +drab guests at all, or else refused them under the pretext of Pasha’s illness, +because the steady, paying guests are offended if they are told that the girl +they know is busy with another. And of such steady guests Pasha has a +multitude; many are with perfect sincerity, even though bestially, in love with +her, and even not so long ago two, almost at the same time, offered to set her +up: a Georgian—a clerk in a store of Cakhetine wines, and some railroad agent, +a very proud and very poor nobleman, with shirt cuffs the colour of a cabbage +rose, and with an eye which had been replaced by a black circle on an elastic. +Pasha, passive in everything save her impersonal sensuality, would go with +anybody who might call her, but the administration of the house vigilantly +guards its interests in her. A near insanity already flits over her lovely +face, in her half-closed eyes, always smiling with some heady, blissful, meek, +bashful and unseemly smile, in her languorous, softened, moist lips, which she +is constantly licking; in her short, quiet laugh—the laugh of an idiot. Yet at +the same time she—this veritable victim of the social temperament—in everyday +life is very good-natured, yielding, entirely uncovetous and is very much +ashamed of her inordinate passion. Toward her mates she is tender, likes very +much to kiss and embrace them and sleep in the same bed with them, but still +everybody has a little aversion for her, it would seem. +</p> + +<p> +“Mannechka, sweetie, dearie,” says Pasha lightly touching Manya’s hand with +emotion, “tell my fortune, my precious little child.” +</p> + +<p> +“We-ell,” Manya pouts her lips just like a child, “let’s play a little more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mannechka, my little beauty, you little good-looker, my precious, my own, my +dear...” +</p> + +<p> +Manya gives in and lays out the pack on her knees. A suit of hearts comes out, +a small monetary interest and a meeting in the suit of spades with a large +company in the king of clubs. +</p> + +<p> +Pasha claps her hands joyously: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, it’s my Levanchik! Well, yes, he promised to come to-day. Of course, it’s +Levanchik.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s your Georgian!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, my little Georgian. Oh, how nice he is. I’d just love never to let +him go away from me. Do you know what he told me the last time? ‘If you’ll go +on living in a sporting house, then I’ll make both you dead, and make me dead.’ +And he flashed his eyes at me so!” +</p> + +<p> +Jennie, who had stopped near, listens to her words and asks haughtily: +</p> + +<p> +“Who was it said that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, my little Georgian, Levan. ‘Both for you death and for me death.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Fool! He isn’t any little Georgian at all, but simply a common Armenian. +You’re a crazy fool.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, he isn’t—he’s a Georgian. And it is quite strange on your part...” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m telling you—a common Armenian. I can tell better. Fool!” +</p> + +<p> +“What are you cursing for, Jennie? I didn’t start cursing you first off, did +I?” +</p> + +<p> +“You just try and be the first to start cursing! Fool! Isn’t it all the same to +you what he is? Are you in love with him, or what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am in love with him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and you’re a fool. And the one with the badge in his cap, the lame +one—are you in love with him too?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what of it? I respect him very much. He is very respectable.” +</p> + +<p> +“And with Nicky the Book-keeper? And with the contractor? And with +Antoshka-Kartoshka?[4] And with the fat actor? Oo-ooh, you shameless creature!” +Jennie suddenly cries out. “I can’t look at you without disgust. You’re a +bitch! In your place, if I was such a miserable thing, I’d rather lay hands on +myself, strangle myself with a cord from my corset. You vermin!” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[4] Tony the Potato.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +Pasha silently lowers her eyelashes over her tear-filled eyes. Manya tries to +defend her. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, what are you carrying on like that for, Jennechka? What are you down +on her like that for...” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, all of you are fine!” Jennie sharply cuts her short. “No self-respect of +any sort! Some scum comes along, buys you like a piece of meat, hires you like +a cabby, at a fixed rate, for love for an hour, but you go all to pieces: ‘Ah, +my little lover! Ah, what unearthly passion!’ Ugh!” she spat in disgust. +</p> + +<p> +She wrathfully turns her back upon them and continues to promenade on a +diagonal through the room, swinging her hips and blinking at herself in every +mirror. +</p> + +<p> +During this time Isaac Davidovich, the piano player, is still struggling with +the refractory violinist. +</p> + +<p> +“Not that way, not that way, Isaiah Savvich. You throw the fiddle away for one +little minute. Listen a little to me. Here is the tune.” +</p> + +<p> +He plays with one finger and hums in that horrible goatish voice that all +musical directors—for which calling he had been at one time preparing—possess. +</p> + +<p> +“Ess-tam, ess-tam, ess-tiam-tiam. Well, now, repeat after me the first part, +first time off..... Well..... ein, zwei...” +</p> + +<p> +Their rehearsal is being attentively watched by the grey-eyed, round-faced, +arch-browed Zoe, mercilessly bedaubed with cheap rouges and whiteners, leaning +with her elbows on the pianoforte, and the slight Vera, with drink-ravaged +face, in the costume of a jockey—in a round little cap with straight brim, in a +little silk jacket, striped blue and white, in tightly stretched trunks and in +little patent leather boots with yellow facings. And really, Vera does resemble +a jockey, with her narrow face, in which the exceedingly sparkling blue eyes, +under a smart bob coming down on the forehead, are set too near the humped, +nervous, very handsome nose. When, at last, after long efforts the musicians +agree, the somewhat small Verka walks up to the large Zoe, in that mincing, +tethered walk, the hind part sticking out, and elbows spread as though for +flight, with which only women in male costume can walk, and makes a comical +masculine bow to her, spreading her arms wide and lowering them. And, with +great enjoyment, they begin careering over the room. +</p> + +<p> +The nimble Niura, always the first to announce all the news, suddenly jumps +down from the window sill, and calls out, spluttering from the excitement and +hurry: +</p> + +<p> +“A swell carriage...has driven up...to Treppel ...with electricity... Oi, +goils...may I die on the spot...there’s electricity on the shafts.” +</p> + +<p> +All the girls, save the proud Jennie, thrust themselves out of the windows. A +driver with a fine carriage is indeed standing near the Treppel entrance. His +brand-new, dashing victoria glistens with new lacquer; at the ends of the +shafts two tiny electric lights burn with a yellow light; the tall white horse, +with a bare pink spot on the septum of its nose, shakes its handsome head, +shifts its feet on the same spot, and pricks up its thin ears; the bearded, +stout driver himself sits on the coach-box like a carven image, his arms +stretched out straight along his knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, for a ride!” squeals Niura. “Oh, uncle! Oh you swell coachman!” she cries +out, hanging over the window sill. “Give a poor little girlie a ride... Give us +a ride for love.” +</p> + +<p> +But the swell coachman laughs, makes a scarcely noticeable movement with his +fingers, and immediately the white horse, as though it had been waiting just +for that, starts from its place at a goodly trot, handsomely turns around and +with measured speed floats away into the darkness together with the victoria +and the broad back of the coachman. +</p> + +<p> +“Pfui! What indecency!” the indignant voice of Emma Edwardovna sounds in the +room. “Well, where did you see that respectable girls should allow themselves +to climb out of the windows and holler all over the street. O, scandal! And +it’s all Niura, and it’s always this horrible Niura!” +</p> + +<p> +She is majestic in her black dress, with her yellow flabby face, with the dark +pouches under her eyes, with the three pendulous, quivering chins. The girls, +like boarding school misses, staidly seat themselves on the chairs along the +walls, except Jennie, who continues to contemplate herself in all the mirrors. +Two more cabbies drive up opposite, to the house of Sophia Vasilievna. Yama is +beginning to liven up. At last one more victoria rattles along the paved road +and its noise is cut short abruptly at the entrance to Anna Markovna’s. +</p> + +<p> +The porter Simeon helps someone take off his things in the front hall. Jennie +looks in there, holding on with both hands to the door jambs, but immediately +turns back, and as she walks shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head +negatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know him, someone who’s an entire stranger,” she says in a low voice. +“He has never been in our place. Some daddy or other, fat, in gold eye-glasses +and a uniform.” +</p> + +<p> +Emma Edwardovna commands in a voice which sounds like a summoning cavalry +trumpet: +</p> + +<p> +“Ladies, into the drawing room! Into the drawing room, ladies!” +</p> + +<p> +One after the other, with haughty gaits, into the drawing room enter: Tamara, +with bare white arms and bared neck, wound with a string of artificial pearls; +fat Kitty with her fleshy, quadrangular face and low forehead—she, too, is in +decollete, but her skin is red and in goose-pimples; Nina, the very newest one, +pug-nosed and clumsy, in a dress the colour of a green parrot; another +Manka—Big Manka, or Manka the Crocodile, as they call her, and—the last—Sonka +the Rudder, a Jewess, with an ugly dark face and an extraordinarily large nose, +precisely for which she has received her nickname, but with such magnificent +large eyes, at the same time meek and sad, burning and humid, as, among the +women of all the terrestrial globe, are to be found only among the Jewesses. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0106"></a> CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<p> +The elderly guest in the uniform of the Department of Charity walked in with +slow, undecided steps, at each step bending his body a little forward and +rubbing his palms with a circular motion, as though washing them. Since all the +women were pompously silent, as though not noticing him, he traversed the +drawing room and let himself down on a chair alongside of Liuba, who, in +accordance with etiquette, only gathered up her skirt a little, preserving the +abstracted and independent air of a girl from a respectable house. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, miss?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do?” answered Liuba abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you getting along?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thanks—thank you. Treat me to a smoke.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me—I don’t smoke.” +</p> + +<p> +“So that’s how. A man—and he doesn’t smoke, just like that. Well, then, treat +me to some Lafitte with lemonade. I am terribly fond of Lafitte with lemonade.” +</p> + +<p> +He let that pass in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Ooh, what a stingy daddy! Where do you work, now? Are you one of the +government clerks?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m a teacher. I teach the German language.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I have seen you somewhere, daddy. Your physiognomy is familiar to me. +Where have I met you before?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, I don’t know, really. Unless it was on the street.” +</p> + +<p> +“It might have been on the street, likely as not... You ought to treat me to an +orange, at least. May I ask for an orange?” +</p> + +<p> +He again grew quiet, looking about him. His face began to glisten and the +pimples on his forehead became red. He was mentally appraising all the women, +choosing a likely one for himself, and was at the same time embarrassed by his +silence. There was nothing at all to talk about; besides that the indifferent +importunity of Liuba irritated him. Fat Katie pleased him with her large, +bovine body, but she must be—he decided in his mind—very frigid in love, like +all stout women, and in addition to that not handsome of face. Vera also +excited him, with her appearance of a little boy, and her firm thighs, closely +enveloped by the white tights; and Little White Manya, looking so like an +innocent school-girl; and Jennie with her energetic, swarthy, handsome face. +For one minute he was all ready to stop at Jennie, but only started in his +chair and did not venture—by her easy, inaccessible and negligent air, and +because she in all sincerity did not pay him the least attention, he surmised +that she was the most spoilt of all the girls in the establishment, accustomed +to having the visitors spend more money on her than on the others. But the +pedagogue was a calculating man, burthened with a large family and an exhausted +wife, destroyed by his masculine demands and suffering from a multiplicity of +female ills. Teaching in a female high school and in an institute, he lived +constantly in a sort of secret sensual delirium, and only his German training, +stinginess and cowardice helped him to hold his constantly aroused desires in +check. But two or three times a year, with incredible privations, he would cut +five or ten roubles out of his beggarly budget, denying himself in his beloved +evening mug of beer and contriving to save on the street cars, which +necessitated his making enormous distances on foot through the town. This money +he set aside for women and spent it slowly, with gusto, trying to prolong and +cheapen down the enjoyment as much as possible. And for his money he wanted a +very great deal, almost the impossible; his German sentimental soul dimly +thirsted after innocence, timidity, poesy, in the flaxen image of Gretchen; but +as a man he dreamt, desired, and demanded that his caresses should bring a +woman into rapture and palpitation and into a sweet exhaustion. +</p> + +<p> +However, all the men strove for the very same thing—even the most wretched, +monstrous, misshapen and impotent of them—and ancient experience had long ago +taught the women to imitate with voice and movements the most flaming passion, +retaining in the most tempestuous minutes the fullest sang froid. +</p> + +<p> +“You might at least order the musicians to play a polka. Let the girls dance a +little,” asked Liuba grumblingly. +</p> + +<p> +That suited him. Under cover of the music, amid the jostling of the dances, it +was far more convenient to get up courage, arise, and lead one of the girls out +of the drawing room, than to do it amid the general silence and the finical +immobility. +</p> + +<p> +“And how much does that cost?” he asked cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +“A quadrille is half a rouble; but ordinary dances are thirty kopecks. Is it +all right then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of course...if you please...I don’t begrudge it,” he agreed, pretending +to be generous... +</p> + +<p> +“Whom do you speak to?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, over there—to the musicians.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? ... I’ll do it with pleasure...Mister musician, something in the +light dances, if you please,” he said, laying down his silver on the +pianoforte. +</p> + +<p> +“What will you order?” asked Isaiah Savvich, putting the money away in his +pocket. “Waltz, polka, polka-mazourka?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well...Something sort of...” +</p> + +<p> +“A waltz, a waltz!” Vera, a great lover of dancing, shouted from her place. +</p> + +<p> +“No, a polka! ... A waltz! ... A vengerka! ... A waltz!” demanded others. +</p> + +<p> +“Let them play a polka,” decided Liuba in a capricious tone. “Isaiah Savvich, +play a little polka, please. This is my husband, and he is ordering fox me,” +she added, embracing the pedagogue by the neck. “Isn’t that true, daddy?” +</p> + +<p> +But he freed himself from under her arm, drawing his head in like a turtle, and +she without the least offence went to dance with Niura. Three other couples +were also whirling about. In the dances all the girls tried to hold the waist +as straight as possible, and the head as immobile as possible, with a complete +unconcern in their faces, which constituted one of the conditions of the good +taste of the establishment. Under cover of the slight noise the teacher walked +up to Little Manka. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go?” he said, offering her his bent arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go,” answered she, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +She brought him into her room, gotten up with all the coquettishness of a +bedroom in a brothel of the medium sort, with a bureau, covered with a knit +scarf, and upon it a mirror, a bouquet of paper flowers, a few empty +bonbonierres, a powder box, a faded photograph of a young man with white +eyebrows and eyelashes and a haughtily astonished face, as well as several +visiting cards. Above the bed, which is covered with a pink pique blanket, +along the wall, is nailed up a rug with a representation of a Turkish sultan +luxuriating in his harem, a narghili in his mouth; on the walls, several more +photographs of dashing men of the waiter and actor type; a pink lantern hangs +down from the ceiling by chains; there are also a round table under a carpet +cover, three vienna chairs, and an enameled bowl with a pitcher of the same +sort in the corner on a tabouret, behind the bed. +</p> + +<p> +“Darling, treat me to Lafitte with lemonade,” in accordance with established +usage asked Little Manka, unbuttoning her corsage. +</p> + +<p> +“Afterwards,” austerely answered the pedagogue. “It will all depend upon +yourself. And then—what sort of Lafitte can you have here? Some muddy brew or +other?” +</p> + +<p> +“We have good Lafitte,” contradicted the girl touchily. “Two roubles a bottle. +But if you are so stingy, then buy me beer at least. All right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, beer is all right...” +</p> + +<p> +“And for me lemonade and oranges. Yes?” +</p> + +<p> +“A bottle of lemonade, yes; but oranges, no. Later, maybe, I will treat you to +champagne even. It will all depend on you. If you’ll exert yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, daddy, I’ll ask for four bottles of beer and two bottles of lemonade? +Yes? And for me just a little cake of chocolate. All right? Yes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Two bottles of beer, a bottle of lemonade, and nothing more. I don’t like when +I’m bargained with. If need be, I’ll order myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“And may I invite a friend of mine?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, let it be without any friends, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +Manka leaned out of the door into the corridor and called out resoundingly: +</p> + +<p> +“Housekeeper, dear! Two bottles of beer and a bottle of lemonade for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Simeon came with a tray and began with an accustomed rapidity to uncork the +bottles. Following him came Zociya, the housekeeper. +</p> + +<p> +“There, now, how well you’ve made yourself at home here. Here’s to your lawful +marriage!” she congratulated them. +</p> + +<p> +“Daddy, treat the little housekeeper with beer,” begged Manka. “Drink, +housekeeper dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, in that case here’s to your health, mister. Somehow, your face seems +kind of familiar to me?” +</p> + +<p> +The German drank his beer, sucking and licking his moustache, and impatiently +waited for the housekeeper to go away. But she, having put down her glass and +thanked him, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Let me get the money coming from you, mister. As much as is coming for the +beer and the time. That’s both better for you and more convenient for us.” +</p> + +<p> +The demand for the money went against the grain of the teacher, because it +completely destroyed the sentimental part of his intentions. He became angry: +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of boorishness is this, anyway! It doesn’t look as if I were +preparing to run away from here. And besides, can’t you discriminate between +people at all? You can see that a man of respectability, in a uniform, has come +to you, and not some tramp. What sort of importunity is this!” +</p> + +<p> +The housekeeper gave in a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, don’t get offended, mister. Of course, you’ll pay the young lady yourself +for the visit. I don’t think you will do her any wrong, she’s a fine girl among +us. But I must trouble you to pay for the beer and lemonade. I, too, have to +give an account to the proprietress. Two bottles at fifty is a rouble and the +lemonade thirty—a rouble thirty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord, a bottle of beer fifty kopecks!” the German waxed indignant. “Why, +I will get it in any beer-shop for twelve kopecks.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, go to a beer-shop if it’s cheaper there,” Zociya became offended. +“But if you’ve come to a respectable establishment, the regular price is half a +rouble. We don’t take anything extra. There, that’s better. Twenty kopecks +change coming to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, change, without fail,” firmly emphasized the German teacher. “And I would +request of you that nobody else should enter.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, no, what are you saying,” Zociya began to bustle near the door. +“Dispose yourself as you please, to your heart’s content. A pleasant appetite +to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Manka locked the door on a hook after her and sat down on the German’s knee, +embracing him with her bare arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you here long?” he asked, sipping his beer. He felt dimly that that +imitation of love which must immediately take place demanded some sort of +psychic propinquity, a more intimate acquaintance, and on that account, despite +his impatience, began the usual conversation, which is carried on by almost all +men—when alone with prostitutes, and which compels the latter to lie almost +mechanically, to lie without mortification, enthusiasm or malice, according to +a single, very ancient stencil. +</p> + +<p> +“Not long, only the third month.” +</p> + +<p> +“And how old are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sixteen,” fibbed Little Manka, taking five years off her age. +</p> + +<p> +“O, such a young one!” the German wondered, and began, bending down and +grunting, to take off his boots. “Then how did you get here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, a certain officer deprived me of my innocence there...near his +birthplace. And it’s terrible how strict my mamma is. If she was to find out, +she’d strangle me with her own hands. Well, so then I ran away from home and +got in here...” +</p> + +<p> +“And did you love that same officer, the one who was the first one, now?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I hadn’t loved him, I wouldn’t have gone to him. He promised to marry me, +the scoundrel, but then managed to get what he was after, and abandoned me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and were you ashamed the first time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, you’d be ashamed...How do you like it, daddy, with light or without +light? I’ll turn, down the lantern a little. All right?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and aren’t you bored here? What do they call you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Manya. To be sure I’m bored. What sort of a life is ours!” +</p> + +<p> +The German kissed her hard on her lips and again asked: +</p> + +<p> +“And do you love the men? Are there men who please you? Who afford you +pleasure?” +</p> + +<p> +“How shouldn’t there be?” Manka started laughing. “I love the ones like you +especially, such nice little fatties.” +</p> + +<p> +“You love them? Eh? Why do you love them?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I love them just so. You’re nice, too.” +</p> + +<p> +The German meditated for a few seconds, pensively sipping away at his beer. +Then he said that which every man tells a prostitute in these moments preceding +the casual possession of her body: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know, Marichen, you also please me very much. I would willingly take +you and set you up.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re married,” the girl objected, touching his ring. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but, you understand, I don’t live with my wife; she isn’t well, she can’t +fulfill her conjugal duties.” +</p> + +<p> +“The poor thing! If she were to find out where you go, daddy, she would cry for +sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s drop that. So, you know, Mary, I am always looking out for such a girl +as you for myself, so modest and pretty. I am a man of means, I would find a +flat with board for you, with fuel and light. And forty roubles a month pin +money. Would you go?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not go—I’d go.” +</p> + +<p> +He kissed her violently, but a secret apprehension glided swiftly through his +cowardly heart. +</p> + +<p> +“But are you healthy?” he asked in an inimical, quavering voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes, I am healthy. There’s a doctor’s inspection every Saturday in our +place.” +</p> + +<p> +After five minutes she went away from him, as she walked putting away in her +stocking the earned money, on which, as on the first handsel, she had first +spat, after a superstitious custom. There had been no further speech either +about maintenance or natural liking. The German was left unsatisfied with the +frigidity of Manka and ordered the housekeeper to be summoned to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Housekeeper dear, my husband demands your presence!” said Manya, coming into +the drawing room and fixing her hair before a mirror. +</p> + +<p> +Zociya went away, then returned afterwards and called Pasha out into the +corridor. Later she came back into the drawing room, but alone. +</p> + +<p> +“How is it, Manka, that you haven’t pleased your cavalier?” she asked with +laughter. “He complains about you: ‘This,’ he says, ‘is no woman, but some log +of wood, a piece of ice.’ I sent him Pashka.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what a disgusting man!” Manka puckered up her face and spat aside. “Butts +in with his conversations. Asks: ‘Do you feel when I kiss you? Do you feel a +pleasant excitement?’ An old hound. ‘I’ll take you,’ he says, ‘and set you +up!’” +</p> + +<p> +“They all say that,” remarked Zoe indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +But Jennie, who since morning has been in an evil mood, suddenly flared up. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the sneak, the big, miserable sneak that he is!” she exclaimed, turning +red and energetically putting her hands to her sides. “Why, I would take him, +the old, dirty little beast, by the ear, then lead him up to the mirror and +show him his disgusting snout. What? Good-looking, aren’t you? And how much +better you’ll be when the spit will be running out of your mouth, and you’ll +cross your eyes, and begin to choke and rattle in the throat, and to snort +right in the face of the woman. And for your damned rouble you want me to go +all to pieces before you like a pancake, and that from your nasty love my eyes +should pop out onto my forehead? Why, hit him in the snout, the skunk, in the +snout! Until there’s blood!” +</p> + +<p> +“O, Jennie! Stop it now! PFUI!” the susceptible Emma Edwardovna, made indignant +by her tone, stopped her. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t stop!” she cut her short abruptly. But she grew quiet by herself and +wrathfully walked away with distending nostrils and with fire in the darkened, +handsome eyes. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0107"></a> CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<p> +Little by little the drawing room was filling. There came Roly-Poly, long known +to all Yama—a tall, thin, red-nosed, gray old man, in the uniform of a forest +ranger, in high boots, with a wooden yard-stick always sticking out of his +side-pocket. He passed whole days and evenings as a habitue of the billiard +parlor in the tavern, always half-tipsy, shedding his little jokes, jingles and +little sayings, acting familiarly with the porters, with the housekeepers and +the girls. In the houses everybody from the proprietress to the +chamber-maids—treated him with a bit of derision—careless, a trifle +contemptuous, but without malice. At times he was even not without use: he +could transmit notes from the girls to their lovers, and run over to the market +or to the drug-store. Not infrequently, thanks to his loosely hung tongue and +long extinguished self respect, he would worm himself into a gathering of +strangers and increase their expenditures, nor did he carry elsewhere the money +gotten as “loans” on such occasions, but spent it right here for women—unless, +indeed, he left himself some change for cigarettes. And, out of habit, he was +good-naturedly tolerated. +</p> + +<p> +“And here’s Roly-Poly arrived,” announced Niura, when he, having already +managed to shake hands amicably with Simeon the porter, stopped in the doorway +of the drawing room, lanky, in a uniform cap knocked at a brave slant over one +side of his head. “Well, now, Roly-Poly, fire away!” +</p> + +<p> +“I have the honour to present myself,” Roly-Poly immediately commenced to +grimace, putting his hand up to his brim in military fashion, “a right +honourable privy frequenter of the local agreeable establishments, Prince +Bottlekin, Count Liquorkin, Baron Whoatinkevich-Giddapkovski—Mister Beethoven! +Mister Chopin!” he greeted the musicians. “Play me something from the opera The +Brave and Charming General Anisimov, or, A Hubbub in the Coolidor. My regards +to the little political economist Zociya.[5] A-ha! Then you kiss only at +Easter? We shall write that down. Ooh-you, my Tomalachka, my pitty-itty +tootsicums!” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[5] An untranslatable pun on Economochka, a diminutive for +“housekeeper.”—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +And so with jests and with pinches he went the round of all the girls and at +last sat down alongside of the fat Katie, who put her fat leg upon his, leant +with her elbow upon her knee, while upon the palm she laid her chin, and began +to watch indifferently and closely the surveyor rolling a cigarette for +himself. +</p> + +<p> +“And how is it that you don’t ever get tired of it, Roly-Poly? You’re forever +rolling a coffin nail.” +</p> + +<p> +Roly-Poly at once commenced to move his eye-brows and the skin of his scalp and +began to speak in verse: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Dear cigarette, my secret mate,<br/> +How can I help loving thee?<br/> +Not through mere whim, prompted by fate,<br/> +All have started smoking thee.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Roly-Poly, but you are going to croak soon,” said Kitty indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +“And a very simple matter, that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Roly-Poly, say something still funnier, in verse,” begged Verka. +</p> + +<p> +And at once, obediently, having placed himself in a funny pose, he began to +declaim: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Many stars are in the bright sky,<br/> +But to count them there’s no way.<br/> +Yes, the wind whispers there can be,<br/> +But there really is no way.<br/> +Blossoming now are burdocks,<br/> +Now sing out the birds called cocks.” +</p> + +<p> +Playing the tom-fool in this manner, Roly-Poly would sit whole evenings and +nights through in the drawing rooms of the establishments. And through some +strange psychic fellow feeling the girls counted him almost as one of their +own; occasionally rendered him little temporary services and even bought him +beer and vodka at their expense. +</p> + +<p> +Some time after Roly-Poly a large company of hairdressers, who were that day +free from work, tumbled in. They were noisy, gay, but even here, in a brothel, +did not cease their petty reckonings and conversations about closed and open +theatrical benefits, about the bosses, about the wives of the bosses. All these +were people corrupt to a sufficient degree, liars, with great hopes for the +future—such as, for example, entering the service of some countess as a kept +lover. They wanted to utilize to the widest possible extent their rather +hard-earned money, and on that account decided to make a review of absolutely +all the houses of Yama; only Treppel’s they could not resolve to enter, as that +was too swell for them. But at Anna Markovna’s they at once ordered a quadrille +and danced it, especially the fifth figure, where the gents execute a solo, +perfectly, like real Parisians, even putting their thumbs in the arm holes of +their vests. But they did not want to remain with the girls; instead, they +promised to come later, when they had wound up the complete review of the +brothels. +</p> + +<p> +And there also came and went government clerks of some sort; crisp young people +in patent leather boots; several students; several officers, who were horribly +afraid of losing their dignity in the eyes of the proprietress and the guests +of the brothel. Little by little in the drawing room was created such a noisy, +fumy setting that no one there any longer felt ill at ease. There came a steady +visitor, the lover of Sonka the Rudder, who came almost every day and sat whole +hours through near his beloved, gazed upon her with languishing oriental eyes, +sighed, grew faint and created scenes for her because she lives in a brothel, +because she sins against the Sabbath, because she eats meat not prepared in the +orthodox Hebrew manner, and because she has strayed from the family and the +great Hebrew church. +</p> + +<p> +As a usual thing—and this happened often—Zociya the housekeeper would walk up +to him under cover of the hubbub and would say, twisting her lips: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what are you sitting there for mister? Warming your behind? You might go +and pass the time with the young lady.” +</p> + +<p> +Both of them, the Jew and the Jewess, were by birth from Homel, and must have +been created by God himself for a tender, passionate, mutual love; but many +circumstances—as, for example, the pogrom which took place in their town, +impoverishment, a complete confusion, fright—had for a time parted them. +However, love was so great that the junior drug clerk Neiman, with great +difficulty, efforts, and humiliations, contrived to find for himself the place +of a junior in one of the local pharmacies, and had searched out the girl he +loved. He was a real, orthodox Hebrew, almost fanatical. He knew that Sonka had +been sold by her very mother to one of the buyers-up of live merchandise, knew +many humiliating, hideous particulars of how she had been resold from hand to +hand, and his pious, fastidious, truly Hebraic soul writhed and shuddered at +these thoughts, but nevertheless love was above all. And every evening he would +appear in the drawing room of Anna Markovna. If he was successful, at an +enormous deprivation, in cutting out of his beggarly income some chance rouble, +he would take Sonka into her room, but this was not at all a joy either for him +or for her: after a momentary happiness—the physical possession of each +other—they cried, reproached each other, quarreled with characteristic Hebraic, +theatrical gestures, and always after these visits Sonka the Rudder would +return into the drawing room with swollen, reddened eyelids. +</p> + +<p> +But most frequently of all he had no money, and would sit whole evenings +through near his mistress, patiently and jealously awaiting her when Sonka +through chance was taken by some guest. And when she would return and sit down +beside him, he would, without being perceived, overwhelm her with reproaches, +trying not to turn the general attention upon himself and without turning his +head in her direction. And in her splendid, humid, Hebraic eyes during these +conversations there was always a martyr-like but meek expression. +</p> + +<p> +There arrived a large company of Germans, employed in an optical shop; there +also arrived a party of clerks from the fish and gastronomical store of +Kereshkovsky, and two young people very well known in the Yamas—both bald, with +sparse, soft, delicate hairs around the bald spots: Nicky the Book-keeper and +Mishka the Singer—so were they both called in the houses. They also were met +very cordially, just like Karl Karlovich of the optical shop and Volodka of the +fish store—with raptures, cries and kisses, flattering to their self-esteem. +The spry Niurka would jump out into the foyer, and, having informed herself as +to who had come, would report excitedly, after her wont: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Jennka, your husband has come!” +</p> + +<p> +Or: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Little Manka, your lover has come!” +</p> + +<p> +And Mishka the Singer, who was no singer at all, but the owner of a drug +warehouse, at once, upon entering, sang out in a vibrating, quavering, goatish +voice: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“They fe-e-e-l the tru-u-u-u-uth!<br/> +Come thou daw-aw-aw-aw-ning...” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +which he perpetrated at every visit of his to Anna Markovna. +</p> + +<p> +Almost incessantly they played the quadrille, waltz, polka, and danced. There +also arrived Senka—the lover of Tamara—but, contrary to his wont, he did not +put on airs, did not go in for “ruination,” did not order a funeral march from +Isaiah Savvich, and did not treat the girls to chocolate ... For some reason he +was gloomy, limped on his right leg, and sought to attract as little attention +as possible—probably his professional affairs were at this time in a bad way. +With a single motion of his head, while walking, he called Tamara out of the +drawing room and vanished with her into her room. And there also arrived +Egmont-Lavretzki the actor, clean-shaven, tall, resembling a court flunky with +his vulgar and insolently contemptuous face. +</p> + +<p> +The clerks from the gastronomical store danced with all the ardour of youth and +with all the decorum recommended by Herman Hoppe, the self-instructor of good +manners. In this regard the girls also responded to their intentions. Both with +these and with the others it was accounted especially decorous and well-bred to +dance as rigidly as possible, keeping the arms hanging down, while the heads +were raised high and inclined to one side with a certain proud, and, at the +same time, tired and enervated air. In the intermissions, between the figures +of the dance, it was necessary to fan one’s self with a handkerchief, with a +bored and negligent air ... In a word, they all made believe that they belonged +to the choicest society, and that if they do dance, they only do it out of +condescension, as a little comradely turn. But still they danced so ardently +that the perspiration rolled down in streams from the clerks of Kereshkovsky. +</p> + +<p> +Two or three rows had already happened in different houses. Some man, all in +blood, whose face in the pale light of the moon’s crescent seemed black from +the blood, was running around in the street, cursing, and, without paying the +least attention to his wounds, was searching for his cap which had been lost in +the brawl. On Little Yamskaya some government scribes had had a fight with a +ship’s company. The tired pianists and musicians played as in a delirium, in a +doze, through mechanical habit. This was towards the waning of the night. +</p> + +<p> +Altogether unexpectedly, seven students, a sub-professor, and a local reporter +walked into the establishment of Anna Markovna. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0108"></a> CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<p> +They had all, except the reporter, passed the whole day together, from the very +morning, celebrating May Day with some young women of their acquaintance. They +had rowed in boats on the Dnieper, had cooked field porridge on the other side +of the river, in the thick, bitter-smelling underbrush; had bathed—men and +women by turns—in the rapid, warm water; had drunk home-made spiced brandy, +sung sonorous songs of Little Russia, and had returned to town only late in the +evening, when the dark, broad, running river so eerily and merrily plashed +against the sides of their boats, playing with the reflections of the stars, +the silvery shimmering paths of the electric lamps, and the bowing lights of +the can-buoys. And when they had stepped out on the shore, the palms of each +burned from the oars, the muscles of the arms and legs ached pleasantly, and +suffusing the whole body was a blissful, healthy fatigue. +</p> + +<p> +Then they had escorted the young women to their homes and at the garden-gates +and entrances had taken leave of them long and cordially, with laughter and +with such swinging hand-shakes as if they were working the lever of a pump. +</p> + +<p> +The whole day had passed in gaiety and noise, even a trifle clamorously, and +just the least wee bit tiresomely, but with youth-like continence; without +intoxication, and, which happens especially rarely, without the least shadow of +mutual affronts, or jealousy, or unvoiced mortifications. Of course, such a +benign mood had been helped by the sun, the fresh river breeze, the sweet +exhalations of the grasses and the water, the joyous sensation of the strength +and alertness of one’s body while bathing and rowing, and the restraining +influence of the clever, kind, pure and handsome girls from families they were +acquainted with. But, almost without the knowledge of their consciousness, +their sensuousness—not imagination, but the simple, healthy, instinctive +sensuousness of young playful males—kindled from chance encounters of their +hands with feminine hands and from comradely obliging embraces, when the +occasion arose to help the young ladies enter a boat or jump out on shore; from +the tender odour of maiden apparel, warmed by the sun; from the feminine cries +of coquettish fright on the river; from the sight of feminine figures, +negligently half-reclining with a naive immodesty on the green grass around the +samovar—from all these innocent liberties, which are so usual and unavoidable +on picnics, country outings and river excursions, when within man, in the +infinite depth of his soul, secretly awakens from the care-free contact with +earth, grasses, water and sun, the beast-ancient, splendid, free, but +disfigured and intimidated of men. +</p> + +<p> +And for that reason, at two o’clock in the night, when THE SPARROWS, a cozy +students’ restaurant, had barely closed, and all the eight, excited by alcohol +and the plentiful food, had come out of the smoky, fumy underground place into +the street, into the sweet, disquieting darkness of the night, with its +beckoning fires in the sky and on the earth, with its warm, heady air, from +which the nostrils dilate avidly, with its aromas, gliding from unseen gardens +and flower-beds,—the head of each one of them was aflame and the heart quietly +and languishingly yearning from vague desires. It was joyous and arrogant to +sense after the rest the new, fresh strength in all the sinews, the deep +breathing of the lungs, the red, resilient blood in the veins, the supple +obedience of all the members. And—without words, without thoughts, without +consciousness—one was drawn on this night to be running without raiment in the +somnolent forest, to be sniffing hurriedly the tracks of some one’s feet on the +dewy grass, with a loud call to be summoning a female unto one’s self. +</p> + +<p> +But to separate was now very difficult. The whole day, passed together, had +shaken them into an accustomed, tenacious herd. It seemed that if even one were +to go away from the company, a certain attained equilibrium would be disturbed +and could not be restored afterwards. And so they dallied and stamped upon the +sidewalk, near the exit of the tavern’s underground vault, interfering with the +progress of the infrequent passers-by. They discussed hypocritically where else +they might go to wind up the night. It proved to be too far to the Tivoli +Garden, and in addition to that one also had to pay for admission tickets, and +the prices in the buffet were outrageous, and the program had ended long ago. +Volodya Pavlov proposed going to him—he had a dozen of beer and a little cognac +home. But it seemed a bore to all of them to go in the middle of the night to a +family apartment, to enter on tiptoes up the stairs and to talk in whispers all +the time. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell you what, brethren ... Let’s better ride to the girlies, that will be +nearer the mark,” said peremptorily Lichonin, an old student, a tall, stooping, +morose and bearded fellow. By convictions he was an anarchist—theoretic, but by +avocation a passionate gambler at billiards, races and cards—a gambler with a +very broad, fatalistic sweep. Only the day before he had won a thousand roubles +at macao in the Merchants’ Club, and this money was still burning a hole in his +pockets. +</p> + +<p> +“And why not? Right-o!” somebody sustained him. “Let’s go, comrades?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it worth while? Why, this is an all night affair ...” spoke another with a +false prudence and an insincere fatigue. +</p> + +<p> +And a third said through a feigned yawn: +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s better go home, gentlemen ... a-a-a ... go bye-bye ... That’s enough for +to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t work any wonders when you’re asleep,” Lichonin remarked sneeringly. +“Herr professor, are you coming?” +</p> + +<p> +But the sub-professor Yarchenko was obstinate and seemed really angered, +although, perhaps, he himself did not know what was lurking within him, in some +dark cranny of his soul. +</p> + +<p> +“Leave me in peace, Lichonin. As I see it, gentlemen, this is downright and +plain swinishness—that which you are about to do. We have passed the time so +wonderfully, amiably and simply, it seems,—but no, you needs must, like drunken +cattle, clamber into a cesspool. I won’t go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still, if my memory does not play me false,” said Lichonin, with calm +causticity, “I recollect that no further back than past autumn we with a +certain future Mommsen were pouring in some place or other a jug of ice into a +pianoforte, delineating a Bouratian god, dancing the belly-dance, and all that +sort of thing?” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin spoke the truth. In his student days, and later, being retained at the +university, Yarchenko had led the most wanton and crack-brained life. In all +the taverns, cabarets, and other places of amusement his small, fat, roundish +little figure, his rosy cheeks, puffed out like those of a painted cupid, and +the shining, humid kindly eyes were well known, his hurried, spluttering speech +and shrill laughter remembered. +</p> + +<p> +His comrades could never fathom where he found the time to employ in study, but +nevertheless he went through all examinations and prescribed work with +distinction and from the first course the professors had him in view. Now +Yarchenko was beginning little by little to quit his former comrades and bottle +companions. He had just established the indispensable connections with the +professorial circle; the reading of lectures in Roman history for the coming +year had been offered him, and not infrequently in conversation he would use +the expression current among the sub-professors: “We, the learned ones!” The +student familiarity, the compulsory companionship, the obligatory participation +in all meetings, protests and demonstrations, were becoming disadvantageous to +him, embarrassing, and even simply tedious. But he knew the value of popularity +among the younger element, and for that reason could not decide to sever +relations abruptly with his former circle. Lichonin’s words, however, provoked +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God, what does it matter what we did when we were youngsters? We stole +sugar, soiled our panties, tore the wings off beetles,” Yarchenko began to +speak, growing heated, and spluttering. “But there is a limit and a mean to all +this. I, gentlemen, do not presume, of course, to give you counsels and to +teach you, but one must be consistent. We are all agreed that prostitution is +one of the greatest calamities of humanity, and are also agreed, that in this +evil not the women are guilty, but we, men, because the demand gives birth to +the offer. And therefore if, having drunk a glass of wine too much, I still, +notwithstanding my convictions, go to the prostitutes, I am committing a triple +vileness: before the unfortunate, foolish woman, whom I subject to the most +degrading form of slavery for my filthy rouble; before humanity, because, +hiring a public woman for an hour or two for my abominable lust, I through this +justify and uphold prostitution; and finally, this is a vileness before one’s +own conscience and mind. And before logic.” +</p> + +<p> +“Phew-ew!” Lichonin let out a long-drawn whistle and chanted in a thin, dismal +voice, nodding in time with his head hanging down to one side: “The philosopher +is off on our usual stuff: ‘A rope—is a common cord.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, there’s nothing easier than to play the tom-fool,” responded +Yarchenko. “But in my opinion there is not in the sorrowful life of Russia a +more mournful phenomenon than this lackadaisicalness and vitiation of thought. +To-day we will say to ourselves: Eh! It’s all the same, whether I go to a +brothel or whether I do not go, from this one time things will get neither +worse nor better. And after five years we will be saying: Undoubtedly a bribe +is a horribly nasty bit of business, but you know—children ... the family ... +And just the same way after ten years we, having remained fortuitous Russian +liberals, will be sighing about personal freedom and bowing low before +worthless scoundrels, whom we despise, and will be cooling our heels in their +ante-rooms. ‘Because, don’t you know,’ we will say, tittering, ‘when you live +with wolves, you must howl like a wolf.’ By God, it wasn’t in vain that some +minister called the Russian students future head-clerks!” +</p> + +<p> +“Or professors,” Lichonin put in. +</p> + +<p> +“But most important of all,” continued Yarchenko, letting this pointed remark +pass by, “most important of all is this, that I have seen all of you to-day on +the river and afterwards there ... on the other shore ... with these charming, +fine girls. How attentive, well-bred, obliging you all were—but scarcely have +you taken leave of them, when you are drawn to public women. Let each one of +you imagine for a moment, that we all had been visiting his sisters and +straight from them had driven to Yama ... What? Is such a supposition +pleasant?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but there must exist some valves for the passions of society,” pompously +remarked Boris Sobashnikov, a tall, somewhat supercilious and affected young +man, upon whom the short, white summer uniform jacket, which scarcely covered +his fat posteriors, the modish trousers, of a military cut, the PINCE-NEZ on a +broad, black ribbon, and a cap after a Prussian model, all bestowed the air of +a coxcomb. “Surely, it isn’t more respectable to enjoy the caresses of your +chambermaid, or to carry on an intrigue on the side with another man’s wife? +What am I to do if woman is indispensable to me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, very indispensable indeed!” said Yarchenko with vexation and feebly made a +despondent gesture. +</p> + +<p> +But here a student who was called Ramses in the friendly coterie intervened. +This was a yellowish-swarthy, hump-nosed man of small stature; his clean-shaven +face seemed triangular, thanks to a broad forehead, beginning to get bald, with +two wedge-like bald spots at the temples, fallen-in cheeks and a sharp chin. He +led a mode of life sufficiently queer for a student. While his colleagues +employed themselves by turns with politics, love, the theatre, and a little in +study, Ramses had withdrawn entirely into the study of all conceivable suits +and claims, into the chicane subtleties of property, hereditary, land and other +business law-suits, into the memorizing and logical analysis of quashed +decisions. Perfectly of his own will, without in the least needing the money, +he served for a year as a clerk at a notary’s for another as a secretary to a +justice of the peace, while all of the past year, being in the last term, he +had conducted in a local newspaper the reports of the city council and had +borne the modest duty of an assistant to a secretary in the management of a +syndicate of sugar manufacturers. And when this same syndicate commenced the +well-known suit against one of its members, Colonel Baskakov, who had put up +the surplus sugar for sale contrary to agreement, Ramses from the very +beginning guessed beforehand and very subtly engineered, precisely that +decision which the senate subsequently handed down in this suit. +</p> + +<p> +Despite his comparative youth, rather well-known jurists gave heed to his +opinions—true, a little loftily. None of those who knew Ramses closely doubted +that he would make a brilliant career, and even Ramses himself did not conceal +his confidence in that toward thirty-five he would knock together a million, +exclusively through his practice as a civil lawyer. His comrades not +infrequently elected him chairman of meetings and head of the class, but this +honour Ramses invariably declined, excusing himself with lack of time. But +still he did not avoid participation in his comrades’ trials by arbitration, +and his arguments—always incontrovertibly logical—were possessed of an amazing +virtue in ending the trials with peace, to the mutual satisfaction of the +litigating parties. He, as well as Yarchenko, knew well the value of popularity +among the studying youths, and even if he did look upon people with a certain +contempt, from above, still he never, by as much as a single movement of his +thin, clever, energetical lips, showed this. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Gavrila Petrovich, no one is necessarily dragging you into committing a +fall from grace,” said Ramses in a conciliatory manner, “What is all this +pathos and melancholy for, when the matter as it stands is altogether simple? A +company of young Russian gentlemen wishes to pass the remnant of the night +modestly and amicably, to make merry, to sing a little, and to take internally +several gallons of wine and beer. But everything is closed now, except these +very same houses. ERGO! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Consequently, we will go merry-making to women who are for sale? To +prostitutes? Into a brothel?” Yarchenko interrupted him, mockingly and +inimically. +</p> + +<p> +“And even so? A certain philosopher, whom it was desired to humiliate, was +given a seat at dinner near the musicians. But he, sitting down, said: ‘Here is +a sure means of making the last place the first.’ And finally I repeat: If your +conscience does not allow you, as you express yourself, to buy a woman, then +you can go there and come away, preserving your innocence in all its blossoming +inviolability.” +</p> + +<p> +“You overdo it, Ramses,” objected Yarchenko with displeasure. “You remind me of +those bourgeois, who, while it is still dark, have gathered to gape at an +execution and who say: we have nothing to do with this, we are against capital +punishment, this is all the prosecuting attorney’s and the executioner’s +doing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Superbly said and partly true, Gavrila Petrovich. But to us, precisely, this +comparison may not even apply. One cannot, you see, treat some malignant +disease while absent, without seeing the sufferer in person. And yet all of us, +who are now standing here in the street and interfering with the passers-by, +will be obliged at some time in our work to run up against the terrible problem +of prostitution, and what a prostitution at that—the Russian! Lichonin, I, +Borya Sobashnikov and Pavlov as jurists, Petrovsky and Tolpygin as medicos. +True, Veltman has a distinct specialty—mathematics. But then, he will be a +pedagogue, a guide of youth, and, deuce take it, even a father! And if you are +going to scare with a bugaboo, it is best to look upon it one’s self first. And +finally, you yourself, Gavrila Petrovich—expert of dead languages and future +luminary of grave digging—is the comparison, then, of the contemporary +brothels, say, with some Pompeian lupanaria, or the institution of sacred +prostitution in Thebes and Nineveh, not important and instructive to you? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, Ramses, magnificent!” roared Lichonin. “And what’s there to talk so +much about, fellows? Take the professor under the gills and put him in a cab!” +</p> + +<p> +The students, laughing and jostling, surrounded Yarchenko, seized him under the +arms, caught him around the waist. All of them were equally drawn to the women, +but none, save Lichonin, had enough courage to take the initiative upon +himself. But now all this complicated, unpleasant and hypocritical business was +happily resolved into a simple, easy joke upon the older comrade. Yarchenko +resisted, and was angry, and laughing, trying to break away. But at this moment +a tall, black-moustached policeman, who had long been eyeing them keenly and +inimically, walked up to the uproarious students. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d ask you stewdent gents not to congregate. It’s not allowed! Keep on +going!” +</p> + +<p> +They moved on in a throng. Yarchenka was beginning to soften little by little. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, I am ready to go with you, if you like ... Do not think, however, +that the sophistries of the Egyptian Pharaoh Ramses have convinced me ... No, I +simply would be sorry to break up the party ... But I make one stipulation: we +will drink a little there, gab a little, laugh a little, and so forth ... but +let there be nothing more, no filth of any kind ... It is shameful and painful +to think that we, the flower and glory—of the Russian intelligentzia, will go +all to pieces and let our mouths water at the sight of the first skirt that +comes our way.” +</p> + +<p> +“I swear it!” said Lichonin, putting up his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I can vouch for myself,” said Ramses. +</p> + +<p> +“And I! And I! By God, gentlemen, let’s pledge our words ... Yarchenko is +right,” others took up. +</p> + +<p> +They seated themselves in twos and threes in the cabs—the drivers of which had +been long since following them in a file, grinning and cursing each other—and +rode off. Lichonin, for the sake of assurance, sat down beside the +sub-professor, having embraced him around the waist and seated him on his knees +and those of his neighbour, the little Tolpygin, a rosy, pleasant-faced boy on +whose face, despite his twenty-three years, the childish white down—soft and +light—still showed. +</p> + +<p> +“The station is at Doroshenko’s!” called out Lichonin after the cabbies driving +off. “The stop is at Doroshenko’s,” he repeated, turning around. +</p> + +<p> +They all stopped at Doroshenko’s restaurant, entered the general room, and +crowded about the bar. All were satiated and no one wanted either to drink or +to have a bite. But in the soul of each one still remained a dark trace of the +consciousness that right now they were getting ready to commit something +needlessly shameful, getting ready to take part in some convulsive, artificial, +and not at all a merry merriment. And in each one was the yearning to bring +himself through intoxication to that misty and rainbow condition when nothing +makes any difference, and when the head does not know what the arms and legs +are doing, and what the tongue is babbling. And, probably, not the students +alone, but all the casual and constant visitors of Yama experienced in greater +or lesser degree the friction of this inner psychic heart-sore, because +Doroshenko did business only late in the evening and night, and no one lingered +long in his place but only turned in in passing, half-way on the journey. +</p> + +<p> +While the students were drinking cognac, beer and vodka, Ramses was constantly +and intently looking into the farthest corner of the restaurant hall, where two +men were sitting—a tattered, gray, big old man, and, opposite him, his back to +the bar, with his elbows spread out upon the table and his chin resting on the +fists folded upon each other, some hunched up, stout, closely-propped gentleman +in a gray suit. The old man was picking upon a dulcimer lying before him and +quietly singing, in a hoarse but pleasing voice: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Oh my valley, my little valley,<br/> +Bro-o-o-o-o-oad land of plenty.” +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me, but that is a co-worker of ours,” said Ramses, and went to greet +the gentleman in the gray suit. After a minute he led him up to the bar and +introduced him to his comrades. +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you my companion in arms in the newspaper +game, Sergei Ivanovich Platonov. The laziest and most talented of newspaper +workers.” +</p> + +<p> +They all introduced themselves, indistinctly muttering out their names. +</p> + +<p> +“And therefore, let’s have a drink,” said Uchonin, while Yarchenko asked with +the refined amiability which never forsook him: +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, pardon me, but I am acquainted with you a little, even though not +personally. Weren’t you in the university when Professor Priklonsky defended +the doctor’s dissertation?” +</p> + +<p> +“It was I,” answered the reporter. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that’s very nice,” smiled Yarchenko charmingly, and for some reason once +more pressed Platonov’s hand vigorously. “I read your report afterwards: very +exactly, circumstantially and skillfully put together ... Won’t you favor me? +... To your health!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then allow me, too,” said Platonov. “Onuphriy Zakharich, pour out for us again +... one ... two, three, four ... nine glasses of cognac...” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, you can’t do that ... you are our guest, colleague,” remonstrated +Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, what sort of colleague am I to you?” good-naturedly laughed the +reporter. “I was only in the first class and then only for half a year—as an +unmatriculated student. Here you are, Onuphriy Zakharich. Gentlemen, I beg +you...” +</p> + +<p> +The upshot of it was that after half an hour Lichonin and Yarchenko did not +under any consideration want to part with the reporter and dragged him with +them to Yama. However, he did not resist. +</p> + +<p> +“If I am not a burden to you, I would be very glad,” he said simply. “All the +more since I have easy money to-day. THE DNIEPER WORD has paid me an +honorarium, and this is just as much of a miracle as winning two hundred +thousand on a check from a theatre coat room. Pardon me, I’ll be right back...” +</p> + +<p> +He walked up to the old man with whom he had been sitting before, shoved some +money into his hand, and gently took leave of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Where I’m going, grandpa, there you mustn’t go—to-morrow we will meet in the +same place as to-day. Good-bye!” +</p> + +<p> +They all walked out of the restaurant. At the door Borya Sobashnikov, always a +little finical and unnecessarily supercilious, stopped Lichonin and called him +to one side. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m surprised at you, Lichonin,” he said squeamishly. “We have gathered +together in our own close company, yet you must needs drag in some vagabond. +The devil knows who he is!” +</p> + +<p> +“Quit that, Borya,” answered Lichonin amicably. “He’s a warm-hearted fellow.” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0109"></a> CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<p> +“Well now, gentlemen, this isn’t fit for pigs,” Yarchenko was saying, +grumblingly, at the entrance of Anna Markovna’s establishment. “If we finally +have gone, we might at least have chosen a decent place, and not some wretched +hole. Really, gentlemen, let’s better go to Treppel’s alongside; there it’s +clean and light, at any rate.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you please, if you please, signior,” insisted Lichonin, opening the door +before the sub-professor with courtly urbanity, bowing and spreading his arms +before him. “If you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this is an abomination ... At Treppel’s the women are better-looking, at +least.” +</p> + +<p> +Ramses, walking behind, burst into dry laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“So, so, Gavrila Petrovich. Let us continue in the same spirit. Let us condemn +the hungry, petty thief who has stolen a five-kopeck loaf out of a tray, but if +the director of a bank has squandered somebody else’s million on race horses +and cigars, let us mitigate his lot.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, but I do not understand this comparison,” answered Yarchenko with +restraint. “However, it’s all the same to me; let’s go.” +</p> + +<p> +“And all the more so,” said Lichonin, letting the subprofessor pass ahead; “all +the more so, since this house guards within it so many historical traditions. +Comrades! Decades of student generations gaze upon us from the heights of the +coat-hooks, and, besides that, through the power of the usual right, children +and students pay half here, as in a panopticon. Isn’t that so, citizen Simeon?” +</p> + +<p> +Simeon did not like to have people come in large parties—this always smacked of +scandal in the not distant future; moreover, he despised students in general +for their speech, but little comprehensible to him, for their propensity +towards frivolous jokes, for their godlessness, and chiefly because they were +in constant revolt against officialdom and order. It was not in vain that on +the day when on the Bessarabian Square the cossacks, meat-sellers, flour +dealers and fish mongers were massacring the students, Simeon having scarce +found it out had jumped into a fine carriage passing by, and, standing just +like a chief of police in the victoria, tore off to the scene of the fray in +order to take part in it. He esteemed people who were sedate, stout and +elderly, who came singly, in secret, peeped in cautiously from the ante-room +into the drawing room, fearing to meet with acquaintances, and very soon and +with great haste went away, tipping him generously. Such he always styled “Your +Excellency.” +</p> + +<p> +And so, while taking the light grey overcoat off Yarchenko, he sombrely and +with much significance snarled back in answer to Lichonin’s banter: +</p> + +<p> +“I am no citizen here, but the bouncer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon which I have the honour to congratulate you,” answered Lichonin with a +polite bow. +</p> + +<p> +There were many people in the drawing room. The clerks, having danced their +fill, were sitting, red and wet, near their ladies, rapidly fanning themselves +with their handkerchiefs; they smelt strongly of old goats’ wool. Mishka the +Singer and his friend the Book-keeper, both bald, with soft, downy hairs around +the denuded skulls, both with turbid, nacreous, intoxicated eyes, were sitting +opposite each other, leaning with their elbows on a little marble table, and +were constantly trying to start singing in unison with such quavering and +galloping voices as though some one was very, very often striking them in the +cervical vertebrae: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“They fe-e-e-l the tru-u-u-u-uth!” +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +while Emma Edwardovna and Zociya with all their might were exhorting them not +to behave indecently. Roly-Poly was peacefully slumbering on a chair, his head +hanging down, having laid one long leg over the other and grasped the sharp +knee with his clasped hands. +</p> + +<p> +The girls at once recognized some of the students and ran to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +“Tamarochka, your husband has come—Volodenka. And my husband too!—Mishka!” +cried Niura piercingly, hanging herself on the neck of the lanky, big-nosed, +solemn Petrovsky. “Hello, Mishenka. Why haven’t you come for so long? I grew +weary of waiting for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Yarchenko with a feeling of awkwardness was looking about him on all sides. +</p> + +<p> +“We’d like to have in some way ... don’t you know ... a little private room,” +he said with delicacy to Emma Edwardovna who had approached. “And give us some +sort of red wine, please ... And then, some coffee as well ... You know +yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Yarchenko always instilled confidence in servants and MAITRES D’HOTEL, with his +dashing clothes and polite but seigniorial ways. Emma Edwardovna started +nodding her head willingly, just like an old, fat circus horse. +</p> + +<p> +“It can be done ... it can be done ... Pass this way, gentlemen, into the +parlor. It can be done, it can be done ... What liqueur? We have only +Benedictine ... Benedictine, then? It can be done, it can be done ... And will +you allow the young ladies to come in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, if that is so indispensable?” Yarchenko spread out his hands with a +sigh. +</p> + +<p> +And at once the girls one after the other straggled into the parlor with its +gray plush furniture and blue lantern. They entered, extended to every one in +turn their unbending palms, unused to hand-clasps, gave their names abruptly in +a low voice—Manya, Katie, Liuba ... They sat down on somebody’s knees, embraced +him around the neck, and, as usual, began to importune: +</p> + +<p> +“Little student, you’re such a little good-looker. May I ask for oranzes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Volodenka, buy me some candy! All right?” +</p> + +<p> +“And me chocolate!” +</p> + +<p> +“Fatty,” Vera, dressed as a jockey, wheedled the sub-professor, clambering up +on his knees, “I have a friend, only she’s sick and can’t come out into the +drawing room. I’ll carry her some apples and chocolate. Will you let me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, those are all just stories about a friend! But above all, don’t be +thrusting your tenderness at me. Sit as smart children sit, right here +alongside, on the arm chair, just so. And fold your little hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but what if I can’t!” writhed Vera in coquetry, rolling her eyes up under +her upper lids ... “When you are so nice.” +</p> + +<p> +But Lichonin, in answer to this professional beggary, only nodded his head +gravely and good-naturedly, just like Emma Edwardovna, and repeated over and +over again, mimicking her German accent: +</p> + +<p> +“Itt can pe done, itt can pe done, itt can pe done...” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will tell the waiter, honey, to carry my friend some sweets and +apples?” pestered Vera. +</p> + +<p> +Such importunity entered the round of their tacit duties. There even existed +among the girls some captious, childish, strange rivalry as to the ability to +“ease a guest of his money”—strange enough because they did not derive any +profit out of this, unless, indeed, a certain affection from the housekeeper or +a word of approbation from the proprietress. But in their petty, monotonous, +habitually frivolous life there was, in general, a great deal of semi-puerile, +semi-hysterical play. +</p> + +<p> +Simeon brought a coffee pot, cups, a squatty bottle of Benedictine, fruits and +bon-bons in glass vases, and gaily and easily began making the corks of the +beer and wine pop. +</p> + +<p> +“But why don’t you drink?” Yarchenko turned to the reporter Platonov. “Allow me +... I do not mistake? Sergei Ivanovich, I believe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Allow me to offer you a cup of coffee, Sergei Ivanovich. It’s refreshing. Or +perhaps, let’s drink this same dubious Lafitte?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you really must allow me to refuse. I have a drink of my own ... Simeon, +give me...” +</p> + +<p> +“Cognac!” cried out Niura hurriedly. +</p> + +<p> +“And with a pear!” Little White Manka caught up just as fast. +</p> + +<p> +“I heard you, Sergei Ivanich—right away,” unhurriedly but respectfully +responded Simeon, and, bending down and letting out a grunt, resoundingly drew +the cork out of the neck of the bottle. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the first time I hear of cognac being served in Yama,” uttered Lichonin +with amazement. “No matter how much I asked, they always refused me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps Sergei Ivanich knows some sort of magic word,” jested Ramses. +</p> + +<p> +“Or is held here in an especially honoured state?” Boris Sobashnikov put in +pointedly, with emphasis. +</p> + +<p> +The reporter listlessly, without turning his head, looked askance at +Sobashnikov, at the lower row of buttons on his short, foppish, white summer +uniform jacket, and answered with a drawl: +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing honourable in that I can drink like a horse and never get +drunk; but then, I also do not quarrel with anyone or pick upon anybody. +Evidently, these good sides of my character are sufficiently known here, and +because of that confidence is shown me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good for you, old fellow!” joyously exclaimed Lichonin, who was delighted by a +certain peculiar, indolent negligence—of few words, yet at the same time +self-confident—in the reporter. “Will you share the cognac with me also?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very, very gladly,” affably answered Platonov and suddenly looked at Lichonin +with a radiant, almost child-like smile, which beautified his plain face with +the prominent cheek-bones. “You, too, appealed to me from the first. And even +when I saw you there, at Doroshenko’s, I at once thought that you are not at +all as rough as you seem.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, we have exchanged pleasantries,” laughed Lichonin. “But it’s +amazing that we haven’t met once just here. Evidently, you come to Anna +Markovna’s quite frequently?” +</p> + +<p> +“Even too much so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sergei Ivanich is our most important guest!” naively shrieked Niura. “Sergei +Ivanich is a sort of brother among us!” +</p> + +<p> +“Fool!” Tamara stopped her. +</p> + +<p> +“That seems strange to me,” continued Lichonin. “I, too, am a habitue. In any +case, one can only envy everybody’s cordiality toward you.” +</p> + +<p> +“The local chieftain!” said Boris Sobashnikov, curling his lips downward, but +said it so low that Platanov, if he chose to, could pretend that he had not +heard anything distinctly. This reporter had for long aroused in Boris some +blind and prickling irritation. That he was not one of his own herd really +meant nothing. But Boris, like many students (and also officers, junkers, and +high-school boys) had grown accustomed to the fact that the outside “civilian” +people, who accidentally fell into a company of students on a spree, should +hold themselves somewhat subordinately and with servility in it, flatter the +studying youths, be struck with its daring, laugh at its jokes, admire its +self-admiration, recall their own student years with a sigh of suppressed envy. +But in Platonov there not only was none of this customary wagging of the tail +before youth, but, on the contrary, there was to be felt a certain abstracted, +calm and polite indifference. +</p> + +<p> +Besides that, Sobashnikov was angered—and angered with a petty, jealous +vexation—by that simple and yet anticipatory attention which was shown to the +reporter by everybody in the establishment, beginning with the porter and +ending with the fleshy, taciturn Katie. This attention was shown in the way he +was listened to, in that triumphal carefulness with which Tamara filled his +glass, and in the way Little White Manka pared a pear for him solicitously, and +in the delight of Zoe, who had caught the case skillfully thrown to her across +the table by the reporter, when she had vainly asked for a cigarette from her +two neighbors, who were lost in conversation; and in the way none of the girls +begged either chocolate or fruits from him, in the lively gratitude for his +little services and his treating. “Pimp!” Sobashkinov had almost decided +mentally with malice, but did not believe it even himself—the reporter was +altogether too homely and too carelessly dressed, and moreover he bore himself +with great dignity. +</p> + +<p> +Platonov again made believe that he had not heard the insolent remark made by +the student. He only nervously crumpled a napkin in his fingers and lightly +threw it aside from him. And again his eyelids quivered in the direction of +Boris Sobashnikov. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, true, I am one of the family here,” he continued calmly, moving his glass +in slow circles on the table. “Just think, I dined in this very house, day +after day, for exactly four months.” +</p> + +<p> +“No? Seriously?” Yarchenko wondered and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“In all seriousness. The table here isn’t at all bad, by the way. The food is +filling and savory, although exceedingly greasy.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how did you ever...” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, just because I was tutoring for high school a daughter of Anna Markovna, +the lady of this hospitable house. Well, I stipulated that part of my monthly +pay should be deducted for my dinners.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a strange fancy!” said Yarchenko. “And did you do this of your own will? +Or ... Pardon me, I am afraid of seeming indiscreet to you ... Perhaps at that +time ... extreme necessity? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all. Anna Markovna soaked me three times as much as it would have cost +in a student’s dining room. I simply wanted to live here a while on a somewhat +nearer, closer footing, to enter intimately into this little world, so to +speak.” +</p> + +<p> +“A-ah! It seems I am beginning to understand!” beamed Yarchenko. “Our new +friend—pardon me for the little familiarity—is, apparently, gathering material +from life? And, perhaps, in a few years we will have the pleasure of reading +...” +</p> + +<p> +“A t-r-ragedy out of a brothel!” Boris Sobashnikov put in loudly, like an +actor. +</p> + +<p> +While the reporter had been answering Yarchenko, Tamara quietly got up from her +place, walked around the table, and, bending down over Sobashnikov, spoke in a +whisper in his ear: +</p> + +<p> +“Dearie, sweetie, you’d better not touch this gentleman. Honest to God, it will +be better for you, even.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wass that?” the student looked at her superciliously, fixing his PINCE-NEZ +with two spread fingers. “Is he your lover? Your pimp?” +</p> + +<p> +“I swear by anything you want that not once in his life has he stayed with any +one of us. But, I repeat, don’t pick on him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, yes! Why, of course!” retorted Sobashnikov, grimacing scornfully. “He has +such a splendid defense as the entire brothel. And it’s a sure thing that all +the bouncers on Yamskaya are his near friends and cronies.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not that,” retorted Tamara in a kind whisper. “Only he’ll take you by the +collar and throw you out of the window, like a puppy. I’ve already seen such an +aerial flight. God forbid its happening to anyone. It’s disgraceful, and bad +for the health.” +</p> + +<p> +“Get out of here, you filth!” yelled Sobashnikov, swinging his elbow at her. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going, dearie,” meekly answered Tamara, and walked away from him with her +light step. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody for an instant turned toward the student. +</p> + +<p> +“Behave yourself, barberry!” Lichonin threatened him with his finger. “Well, +well, go on,” he begged the reporter; “all that you’re saying is so +interesting.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m not gathering anything,” continued the reporter calmly and seriously. +“But the material here is in reality tremendous, downright crushing, terrible +... And not at all terrible are the loud phrases about the traffic in women’s +flesh, about the white slaves, about prostitution being a corroding fester of +large cities, and so on, and so on ... an old hurdy-gurdy of which all have +tired! No, horrible are the everyday, accustomed trifles, these business-like, +daily, commercial reckonings, this thousand year old science of amatory +practice, this prosaic usage, determined by the ages. In these unnoticeable +nothings are completely dissolved such feelings as resentment, humiliation, +shame. There remains a dry profession, a contract, an agreement, a well-nigh +honest petty trade, no better, no worse than, say, the trade in groceries. Do +you understand, gentlemen, that all the horror is in just this, that there is +no horror! Bourgeois work days—and that is all. And also an after taste of an +exclusive educational institution, with its NAIVETE, harshness, sentimentality +and imitativeness.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right,” confirmed Lichonin, while the reporter continued, gazing +pensively into his glass: +</p> + +<p> +“We read in the papers, in leading articles, various wailings of anxious souls. +And the women-physicians are also endeavouring in this matter, and endeavouring +disgustingly enough. ‘Oh, dear, regulation! Oh, dear, abolition! Oh, dear, live +merchandise! A condition of slavery! The mesdames, these greedy haeterae! These +heinous degenerates of humanity, sucking the blood of prostitutes!’ ... But +with clamour you will scare no one and will affect no one. You know, there’s a +little saying: much cry, little wool. More awful than all awful words—a +hundredfold more awful—is some such little prosaic stroke or other as will +suddenly knock you all in a heap, like a blow on the forehead. Take even +Simeon, the porter here. It would seem, according to you, there is no sinking +lower—a bouncer in a brothel, a brute, almost certainly a murderer, he plucks +the prostitutes, gives them “black eyes,” to use a local expression—that is, +just simply beats them. But, do you know on what grounds he and I came together +and became friendly? On the magnificent details of the divine service of the +prelate, on the canon of the honest Andrew, pastor of Crete, on the works of +the most beatific father, John the Damascene. He is religious—unusually so! I +used to lead him on, and he would sing to me with tears in his eyes: ‘Come ye +brethren, and we will give the last kiss to him who has gone to his rest...’ +From the ritual of the burial of laymen. No, just think: it is only in the +Russian soul alone that such contradictions may dwell together!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. A fellow like that will pray, and pray, then cut a throat, and then wash +his hands and put a candle before an image,” said Ramses. +</p> + +<p> +“Just so. I know of nothing more uncanny than this fusion of fully sincere +devoutness with an innate leaning toward crime. Shall I confess to you? I, when +I talk all alone to Simeon—and we talk with each other long and leisurely, for +hours—I experience at moments a genuine terror. A superstitious terror! Just as +though, for instance, I am standing in the dusk upon a shaking little board, +bending over some dark, malodorous well, and just barely distinguish how there, +at the bottom, reptiles are stirring. And yet, he is devout in a real way, and +I am sure will some time join the monks and will be a great faster and sayer of +prayers, and the devil knows how, in what monstrous fashion, a real religious +ecstasy will entwine in his soul with blasphemy, with scoffing at sacred +things, with some repulsive passion or other, with sadism or something else of +that nature!” +</p> + +<p> +“However, you do not spare the object of your observations,” said Yarchenko, +and carefully indicated the girls with his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, it’s all the same. Our relations are cool now.” +</p> + +<p> +“How so?” asked Volodya Pavlov, who had caught the end of the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Just so ... It isn’t even worth the telling...” smiled the reporter evasively. +“A trifle ... Let’s have your glass here, Mr. Yarchenko.” +</p> + +<p> +But the precipitate Niura, who could never keep her tongue behind her teeth, +suddenly shot oat in rapid patter: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s because Sergei Ivanich gave him one in the snout ... On account of Ninka. +A certain old man came to Ninka ... And stayed for the night ... And Ninka had +the flowers ... And the old man was torturing her all the time ... So Ninka +started crying and ran away.”[6] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[6] The Russian expression is “the red flag.”—TRANS. +</p> + +<p> +“Drop it, Niura; it’s boring,” said Platonov with a wry face. +</p> + +<p> +“Can it!” (leave off) ordered Tamara severely, in the jargon of houses of +prostitution. +</p> + +<p> +But it was impossible to stop Niura, who had gotten a running start. +</p> + +<p> +“But Ninka says: ‘I,’ she says, ‘won’t stay with him for anything, though you +cut me all to pieces ... He,’ she says, ‘has made me all wet with his spit.’ +Well, the old man complained to the porter, to be sure, and the porter starts +in to beat up Ninka, to be sure. And Sergei Ivanich at this time was writing +for me a letter home, to the province, and when he heard that Ninka was +hollering...” +</p> + +<p> +“Zoe, shut her mouth!” said Platonov. +</p> + +<p> +“He just jumped up at once and ... app! ...” and Niura’s torrent instantly +broke off, stopped up by Zoe’s palm. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody burst out laughing, only Boris Sobashnikov muttered under cover of +the noise with a contemptuous look: +</p> + +<p> +“OH, CHEVALIER SANS PEUR ET SANS REPROCHE!” +</p> + +<p> +He was already pretty far gone in drink, stood leaning against the wall, in a +provoking pose, and was nervously chewing a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“Which Ninka is this?” asked Yarchenko with curiosity. “Is she here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she isn’t here. Such a small, pug-nosed little girl. Naive and very +angry.” The reporter suddenly and sincerely burst into laughter. “Excuse me ... +It’s just so ... over my thoughts,” explained he through laughter. “I recalled +this old man very vividly just now, as he was running along the corridor in +fright, having grabbed his outer clothing and shoes ... Such a respectable +ancient, with the appearance of an apostle, I even know where he serves. Why, +all of you know him. But the funniest of all was when he, at last, felt himself +out of danger in the drawing room. You understand—he is sitting on a chair, +putting on his pantaloons, can’t put his foot where it ought to go, by any +means, and bawls all over the house: ‘It’s an outrage! This is an abominable +dive! I’ll show you up! ... To-morrow I’ll give you twenty-four hours to clear +out! ... Do you know, this combination of pitiful helplessness with the +threatening cries was so killing that even the gloomy Simeon started laughing +... Well, now, apropos of Simeon ... I say, that life dumfounds, with its +wondrous muddle and farrago, makes one stand aghast. You can utter a thousand +sonorous words against souteneurs, but just such a Simeon you will never think +up. So diverse and motley is life! Or else take Anna Markovna, the proprietress +of this place. This blood-sucker, hyena, vixen and so on ... is the tenderest +mother imaginable. She has one daughter—Bertha, she is now in the fifth grade +of high school. If you could only see how much careful attention, how much +tender care Anna Markovna expends that her daughter may not somehow, +accidentally, find out about her profession. And everything is for Birdie, +everything is for the sake of Birdie. And she herself dare not even converse +before her, is afraid of her lexicon of a bawd and an erstwhile prostitute, +looks into her eyes, holds herself servilely, like an old servant, like a +foolish, doting nurse, like an old, faithful, mange-eaten poodle. It is long +since time for her to retire to rest, because she has money, and because her +occupation is both arduous and troublesome, and because her years are already +venerable. But no and no; one more extra thousand is needed, and then more and +more—everything for Birdie. And so Birdie has horses, Birdie has an English +governess, Birdie is every year taken abroad, Birdie has diamonds worth forty +thousand—the devil knows whose they are, these diamonds? And it isn’t that I am +merely convinced, but I know well, that for the happiness of this same Birdie, +nay, not even for her happiness, but, let us suppose that Birdie gets a +hangnail on her little finger—well then, in order that this hangnail might pass +away—imagine for a second the possibility of such a state of things!—Anna +Markovna, without the quiver of an eyelash, will sell into corruption our +sisters and daughters, will infect all of us and our sons with syphilis. What? +A monster, you will say? But I will say that she is moved by the same grand, +unreasoning, blind, egoistical love for which we call our mothers sainted +women.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go easy around the curves!” remarked Boris Sobashnikov through his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me: I was not comparing people, but merely generalizing on the first +source of emotion. I might have brought out as an example the self-denying love +of animal-mothers as well. But I see that I have started on a tedious matter. +Better let’s drop it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you finish,” protested Lichonin. “I feel that you have a massive thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“And a very simple one. The other day a professor asked me if I am not +observing the life here with some literary aims. And all I wanted to say was, +that I can see, but precisely can not observe. Here I have given you Simeon and +the bawd for example. I do not know myself why, but I feel that in them lurks +some terrible, insuperable actuality of life, but either to tell it, or to show +it, I can not. Here is necessary the great ability to take some picayune +trifle, an insignificant, paltry little stroke, and then will result a dreadful +truth, from which the reader, aghast, will forget that his mouth is agape. +People seek the terrible in words, in cries, in gestures. Well, now, for +example, I am reading a description of some pogrom or of a slaughter in jail, +or of a riot being put down. Of course, the policemen are described, these +servants of arbitrariness, these lifeguards of contemporaneousness, striding up +to their knees in blood, or how else do they write in such cases? Of course, it +is revolting and it hurts, and is disgusting, but all this is felt by the mind, +and not the heart. But here I am walking along Lebyazhia Street, and see that a +crowd has collected, a girl of five years in the centre—she has lagged behind +the mother and has strayed, or it may be that the mother had abandoned her. And +before the girl, squatting down on his heels, is a roundsman. He is +interrogating her, how she is called, and where is she from, and how do they +call papa, and how do they call mamma. He has broken out into sweat, the poor +fellow, from the effort, the cap is at the back of his neck, the whiskered face +is such a kindly and woeful and helpless one, while the voice is gentle, so +gentle. At last, what do you think? As the girl has become all excited, and has +already grown hoarse from tears, and is shy of everybody—he, this same +‘roundsman on the beat,’ stretches out two of his black, calloused fingers, the +index and the little, and begins to imitate a nanny goat for the girl and +reciting an appropriate nursery rhyme! ... And so, when I looked upon this +charming scene and thought that half an hour later at the station house this +same patrolman will be beating with his feet the face and chest of a man whom +he had not till that time seen once, and whose crime he is entirely ignorant +of—then—you understand!—I began to feel inexpressibly eerie and sad. Not with +the mind, but the heart. Such a devilish muddle is this life. Shall we drink +some cognac, Lichonin?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you say to calling each other thou?” suddenly proposed Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +“All right. Only, really, without any of this business of kissing, now. Here’s +to your health, old man ... Or here is another instance ... I read a certain +French classic, describing the thoughts and sensations of a man condemned to +capital punishment. He describes it all sonorously, powerfully, brilliantly, +but I read and ... well, there is no impression of any sort; neither emotion +nor indignation—just ENNUI. But then, within the last few days I come across a +brief newspaper notice of a murderer’s execution somewhere in France. The +Procureur, who was present at the last toilet of the criminal, sees that he is +putting on his shoes on his bare feet, and—the blockhead!—reminds him: ‘What +about the socks?’ But the other gives him a look and says, sort of +thoughtfully: ‘Is it worth while?’ Do you understand, these two remarks, so +very short, struck me like a blow on the skull! At once all the horror and all +the stupidity of unnatural death were revealed to me ... Or here is something +else about death ... A certain friend of mine died, a captain in the infantry—a +drunkard, a vagabond, and the finest soul in the world. For some reason we +called him the Electrical Captain. I was in the vicinity, and it fell to me to +dress him for the last parade. I took his uniform and began to attach the +epaulettes to it. There’s a cord, you know, that’s drawn through the shank of +the epaulette buttons, and after that the two ends of this cord are shoved +through two little holes under the collar, and on the inside—the lining—are +tied together. Well, I go through all this business, and tie the cord with a +slipknot, and, you know, the loop won’t come out, nohow—either it’s too loosely +tied, or else one end’s too short. I am fussing over this nonsense, and +suddenly into my head comes the most astonishingly simple thought, that it’s +far simpler and quicker to tie it in a knot—for after all, it’s all the same, +NO ONE IS GOING TO UNTIE IT. And immediately I felt death with all my being. +Until that time I had seen the captain’s eyes, grown glassy, had felt his cold +forehead, and still somehow had not sensed death to the full, but I thought of +the knot—and I was all transpierced, and the simple and sad realization of the +irrevocable, inevitable perishing of all our words, deeds, and sensations, of +the perishing of all the apparent world, seemed to bow me down to the earth ... +And I could bring forward a hundred such small but staggering trifles ... Even, +say, about what people experienced in the war ... But I want to lead my thought +up to one thing. We all pass by these characteristic trifles indifferently, +like the blind, as though not seeing them scattered about under our feet. But +an artist will come, and he will look over them carefully, and he will pick +them up. And suddenly he will so skillfully turn in the sun a minute bit of +life that we shall all cry out: ‘Oh, my God! But I myself—myself—have seen this +with my own eyes. Only it simply did not enter my head to turn my close +attention upon it.’ But our Russian artists of the word—the most conscientious +and sincere artists in the whole world—for some reason have up to this time +passed over prostitution and the brothel. Why? Really, it is difficult for me +to answer that. Perhaps because of squeamishness, perhaps because of +pusillanimity, out of fear of being signalized as a pornographic writer; +finally, from the apprehension that our gossiping criticism will identify the +artistic work of the writer with his personal life and will start rummaging in +his dirty linen. Or perhaps they can find neither the time, nor the +self-denial, nor the self-possession to plunge in head first into this life and +to watch it right up close, without prejudice, without sonorous phrases, +without a sheepish pity, in all its monstrous simplicity and every-day +activity. Oh, what a tremendous, staggering and truthful book would result!” +</p> + +<p> +“But they do write!” unwillingly remarked Ramses. +</p> + +<p> +“They do write,” wearily repeated Platonov in the same tone as he. “But it is +all either a lie, or theatrical effects for children of tender years, or else a +cunning symbolism, comprehensible only to the sages of the future. But the life +itself no one as yet has touched. One big writer—a man with a crystal-pure soul +and a remarkable talent for delineation—once approached this theme,[7] and then +all that could catch the eye of an outsider was reflected in his soul, as in a +wondrous mirror. But he could not decide to lie to and to frighten people. He +only looked upon the coarse hair of the porter, like that of a dog, and +reflected: ‘But, surely, even he had a mother.’ He passed with his wise, exact +gaze over the faces of the prostitutes and impressed them on his mind. But that +which he did not know he did not dare to write. It is remarkable, that this +same writer, enchanting with his honesty and truthfulness, has looked at the +moujik as well, more than once. But he sensed that both the tongue and the turn +of mind, as well as the soul of the people, were for him dark and +incomprehensible ... And he, with an amazing tact, modestly went around the +soul of the people, but refracted all his fund of splendid observation through +the eyes of townsfolk. I have brought this up purposely. With us, you see, they +write about detectives, about lawyers, about inspectors of the revenue, about +pedagogues, about attorneys, about the police, about officers, about sensual +ladies, about engineers, about baritones—and really, by God, altogether +well—cleverly, with finesse and talent. But, after all, all these people, are +rubbish, and their life is not life but some sort of conjured up, spectral, +unnecessary delirium of world culture. But there are two singular +realities—ancient as humanity itself: the prostitute and the moujik. And about +them we know nothing save some tinsel, gingerbread, debauched depictions in +literature. I ask you: what has Russian literature extracted out of all the +nightmare of prostitution? Sonechka Marmeladova alone.[8] +</p> + +<p> +What has it given us about the moujik save odious, false, nationalistic +pastorals? One, altogether but one, but then, in truth, the greatest work in +all the world—a staggering tragedy, the truthfulness of which takes the breath +away and makes the hair stand on end. You know what I am speaking of ...” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[7] The reference here is most probably to Chekhov.—TRANS. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[8] The heroine of Dostoievsky’s “Crime and Punishment.”—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The little claw is sunk in...’”[9] quietly prompted Lichonin. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[9] “The little claw is sunk in, the whole bird is bound to perish”—a folk +proverb used by Tolstoi as a sub-title to his “The Power of Darkness.”—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered the reporter, and looked kindly at the student with +gratefulness. +</p> + +<p> +“But as regards Sonechka—why, this is an abstract type,” remarked Yarchenko +with assurance. “A psychological scheme, so to speak...” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov, who up to now had been speaking as though unwillingly, at a slow +rate, suddenly grew heated: +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred times have I heard this opinion, a hundred times! And it is entirely +an untruth. Underneath the coarse and obscene profession, underneath the +foulest oaths—about one’s mother—underneath the drunken, hideous +exterior—Sonechka Marmeladova still lives! The fate of the Russian +prostitute—oh, what a tragic, piteous, bloody, ludicrous and stupid path it is! +Here everything has been juxtaposed: the Russian God, Russian breadth and +unconcern, Russian despair in a fall, Russian lack of culture, Russian naivete, +Russian patience, Russian shamelessness. Why, all of them, whom you take into +bedrooms,—look upon them, look upon them well,—why, they are all children; why, +each of them is but eleven years old. Fate has thrust them upon prostitution +and since then they live in some sort of a strange, fairy-like, toy existence, +without developing, without being enriched by experience, naive, trusting, +capricious, not knowing what they will say and do half an hour later—altogether +like children. This radiant and ludicrous childishness I have seen in the very +oldest wenches, fallen as low as low can be, broken-winded and crippled like a +cabby’s nags. And never does this impotent pity, this useless commiseration +toward human suffering die within them ... For example...” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov looked over all the persons sitting with a slow gaze, and suddenly, +waving his hand despondently, said in a tired voice: +</p> + +<p> +“However ... The devil take it all! To-day I have spoken enough for ten years +... And all of it to no purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +“But really, Sergei Ivanich, why shouldn’t you try to describe all this +yourself?” asked Yarchenko. “Your attention is so vitally concentrated on this +question.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did try!” answered Platonov with a cheerless smile. “But nothing came of it. +I started writing and at once became entangled in various ‘whats,’ ‘which’s,’ +‘was’s.’ The epithets prove flat. The words grow cold on the page. It’s all a +cud of some sort. Do you know, Terekhov was here once, while passing through +... You know ... The well-known one ... I came to him and started in telling +him lots and lots about the life here, which I do not tell you for fear of +boring you. I begged him to utilize my material. He heard me out with great +attention, and this is what he said, literally: ‘Don’t get offended, Platonov, +if I tell you that there’s almost not a single person of those I have met +during my life, who wouldn’t thrust themes for novels and stories upon me, or +teach me as to what ought to be written up. That material which you have just +communicated to me is truly unencompassable in its significance and +weightiness. But what shall I do with it? In order to write a colossal book +such as the one you have in mind, the words of others do not suffice—even +though they be the most exact—even observations, made with a little note-book +and a bit of pencil, do not suffice. One must grow accustomed to this life, +without being cunningly wise, without any ulterior thoughts of writing. Then a +terrific book will result.’ +</p> + +<p> +“His words discouraged me and at the same time gave me wings. Since that time I +believe, that now, not soon—after fifty years or so—but there will come a +writer of genius, and precisely a Russian one, who will absorb within himself +all the burdens and all the abominations of this life and will cast them forth +to us in the form of simple, fine, and deathlessly-caustic images. And we shall +all say: ‘Why, now, we, ourselves, have seen and known all this, but we could +not even suppose that this is so horrible!’ In this coming artist I believe +with all my heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“Amen!” said Lichonin seriously. “Let us drink to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, honest to God,” suddenly declared Little Manka, “If some one would only +write the truth about the way we live here, miserable w—that we are...” +</p> + +<p> +There was a knock at the door, and at once Jennie entered in her resplendent +orange dress. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0110"></a> CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<p> +She greeted all the men without embarrassment, with the independent bearing of +the first personage in the house, and sat down near Sergei Ivanich, behind his +chair. She had just gotten free from that same German in the uniform of the +benevolent organization, who early in the evening had made Little White Manka +his choice, but had afterwards changed her, at the recommendation of the +housekeeper, for Pasha. But the provoking and self-assured beauty of Jennie +must have smitten deeply his lecherous heart, for, having prowled some three +hours through certain beer emporiums and restaurants, and having there gathered +courage, he had again returned into the house of Anna Markovna, had waited +until her time-guest—Karl Karlovich, from the optical store—had gone away from +Jennie, and had taken her into a room. +</p> + +<p> +To the silent question in Tamara’s eyes Jennie made a wry face of disgust, +shivered with her back and nodded her head affirmatively. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s gone... Brrr! ...” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov was looking at Jennie with extraordinary attentiveness. He +distinguished her from the rest of the girls and almost respected her for her +abrupt, refractory, and impudently mocking character. And now, turning around +occasionally, by her flaming, splendid eyes, by the vividly and unevenly +glowing unhealthy red of her cheeks, by the much bitten parched lips, he felt +that her great, long ripening rancour was heavily surging within the girl and +suffocating her. And it was then that he thought (and subsequently often +recalled this) that he had never yet seen Jennie so radiantly beautiful as on +this night. He also noticed, that all the men present in the private cabinet, +with the exception of Lichonin, were looking at her—some frankly, others by +stealth and as though in passing—with curiosity and furtive desire. The beauty +of this woman, together with the thought of her altogether easy accessibility, +at any minute, agitated their imagination. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something working upon you, Jennie,” said Platonov quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Caressingly, she just barely drew her fingers over his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t pay any attention. Just so ... our womanish affairs ... It won’t be +interesting to you.” +</p> + +<p> +But immediately, turning to Tamara, she passionately and rapidly began saying +something in an agreed jargon, which presented a wild mixture out of the +Hebrew, Tzigani and Roumanian tongues and the cant words of thieves and +horse-thieves. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t try to put anything over on the fly guy, the fly guy is next,” Tamara +cut her short and with a smile indicated the reporter with her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Platonov had, in fact, understood. Jennie was telling with indignation that +during this day and night, thanks to the influx of a cheap public, the unhappy +Pashka had been taken into a room more than ten times—and all by different men. +Only just now she had had a hysterical fit, ending in a faint. And now, +scarcely having brought Pashka back to consciousness and braced her up on +valerian drops in a glass of spirits, Emma Edwardovna had again sent her into +the drawing room. Jennie had attempted to take the part of her comrade, but the +house-keeper had cursed the intercessor out and had threatened her with +punishment. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it all about?” asked Yarchenko in perplexity, raising high his +eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t trouble yourself ... nothing out of the way...” answered Jennie in a +still agitated voice. “Just so ... our little family trifles ... Sergei +Ivanich, may I have some of your wine?” +</p> + +<p> +She poured out half a glass for herself and drank the cognac off at a draught, +distending her thin nostrils wide. +</p> + +<p> +Platonov got up in silence and went toward the door. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not worth while, Sergei Ivanich. Drop it...” Jennie stopped him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, why not?” objected the reporter. “I shall do a very simple and innocent +thing, take Pasha here, and if need be—pay for her, even. Let her lie down here +for a while on the divan and rest, even though a little ... Niura, run for a +pillow quick!” +</p> + +<p> +Scarcely had the door shut behind his broad, ungainly figure in its gray +clothes, when Boris Sobashnikov at once commenced speaking with a contemptuous +bitterness: +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, what the devil for have we dragged into our company this peach off +the street? We must needs tie up with all sorts of riff-raff? The devil knows +what he is—perhaps he’s even a dinny? Who can vouch for him? And you’re always +like that, Lichonin.” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t Lichonin but I who introduced him to everybody,” said Ramses. “I know +him for a fully respectable person and a good companion.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh! Nonsense! A good companion to drink at some one else’s expense. Why, don’t +you see for yourselves that this is the most ordinary type of habitue attached +to a brothel, and, most probably, he is simply the pimp here, to whom a +percentage is paid for the entertainment into which he entices the visitors.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave off, Borya. It’s foolish,” remarked Yarchenko reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +But Borya could not leave off. He had an unfortunate peculiarity—intoxication +acted neither upon his legs nor his tongue, but put him in a morose, touchy +frame of mind and egged him on into quarrels. And Platonov had already for a +long time irritated him with his negligently sincere, assured and serious +bearing, so little suitable to the private cabinet of a brothel. But the +seeming indifference with which the reporter let pass the malicious remarks +which he interposed into the conversation angered Sobashnikov still more. +</p> + +<p> +“And then, the tone in which he permits himself to speak in our company!” +Sobashnikov continued to seethe. “A certain aplomb, condescension, a +professorial tone ... The scurvy penny-a-liner! The free-lunch grafter!” +</p> + +<p> +Jennie, who had all the time been looking intently at the student, gaily and +maliciously flashing with her sparkling dark eyes, suddenly began to clap her +hands. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the way! Bravo, little student! Bravo, bravo, bravo! ... That’s the +way, give it to him good! ... Really, what sort of a disgrace is this! When +he’ll come, now, I’ll repeat everything to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“I—if you please! A—as much as you like!” Sobashnikov drawled out like an +actor, making superciliously squeamish creases about his mouth. “I shall repeat +the very same things myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a fine fellow, now,—I love you for that!” exclaimed Jennie joyously +and maliciously, striking her fist on the table. “You can tell an owl at once +by its flight, a good man by his snot!” +</p> + +<p> +Little White Manya and Tamara looked at Jennie with wonder, but, noting the +evil little lights leaping in her eyes and her nervously quivering nostrils, +they both understood and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +Little White Manya, laughing, shook her head reproachfully. Jennie always had +such a face when her turbulent soul sensed that a scandal was nearing which she +herself had brought on. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t get your back up, Borinka,” said Lichonin. “Here all are equal.” +</p> + +<p> +Niura came with a pillow and laid it down on the divan. +</p> + +<p> +“And what’s that for?” Sobashnikov yelled at her. “Git! take it away at once. +This isn’t a lodging house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, leave her be, honey. What’s that to you?” retorted Jennie in a sweet +voice and hid the pillow behind Tamara’s back. “Wait, sweetie, I’d better sit +with you for a while.” +</p> + +<p> +She walked around the table, forced Boris to sit on a chair, and herself got up +on his knees. Twining his neck with her arm, she pressed her lips to his mouth, +so long and so vigorously that the student caught his breath. Right up close to +his eyes he saw the eyes of the woman—strangely large, dark, luminous, +indistinct and unmoving. For a quarter of a second or so, for an instant, it +seemed to him that in these unliving eyes was impressed an expression of keen, +mad hate; and the chill of terror, some vague premonition of an ominous, +inevitable calamity flashed through the student’s brain. With difficulty +tearing the supple arms of Jennie away from him, and pushing her away, he said, +laughing, having turned red and breathing hard: +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a temperament for you! Oh, you Messalina Paphnutievna! ... They call +you Jennka, I think? You’re a good-looking little rascal.” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov returned with Pasha. Pasha was pitiful and revolting to look at. Her +face was pale, with, a bluish cast as though the blood had run off; the glazed, +half-closed eyes were smiling with a faint, idiotic smile; the parted lips +seemed to resemble two frayed, red, wet rags, and she walked with a sort of +timid, uncertain step, just as though with one foot she were making a large +step, and with the other a small one. She walked with docility up to the divan +and with docility laid her head down on the pillow, without ceasing to smile +faintly and insanely. Even at a distance it was apparent that she was cold. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, gentlemen, I am going to undress,” said Lichonin, and taking his +coat off he threw it over the shoulders of the prostitute. “Tamara, give her +chocolate and wine.” +</p> + +<p> +Boris Sobashnikov again stood up picturesquely in the corner, in a leaning +position, one leg in front of the other and his head held high. Suddenly he +spoke amid the general silence, addressing Platonov directly, in a most foppish +tone: +</p> + +<p> +“Eh ... Listen ... what’s your name? ... This, then, must be your mistress? +Eh?” And with the tip of his boot he pointed in the direction of the recumbent +Pasha. +</p> + +<p> +“Wha-at?” asked Platonov in a drawl, knitting his eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“Or else you are her lover—it’s all one ... What do they call this duty here? +Well, now, these same people for whom the women embroider shirts and with whom +they divide their honest earnings? ... Eh? ...” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov looked at him with a heavy, intent gaze through his narrowed lids. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” he said quietly, in a hoarse voice, slowly and ponderously separating +his words. “This isn’t the first time that you’re trying to pick a quarrel with +me. But, in the first place, I see that despite your sober appearance you are +exceedingly and badly drunk; and, in the second place, I spare you for the sake +of your comrades. However, I warn you, that if you think of talking that way to +me again, take your eyeglasses off.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s this stuff?” exclaimed Boris, raising his shoulders high and snorting +through his nose. “What eyeglasses? Why eyeglasses?” But mechanically, with two +extended fingers, he fixed the bow of the PINCE-NEZ on the bridge of his nose. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I’m going to hit you, and the pieces may get in your eye,” said the +reporter unconcernedly. +</p> + +<p> +Despite the unexpectedness of such a turn of the quarrel, nobody started +laughing. Only Little White Manka oh’d in astonishment and clapped her hands. +Jennie, with avid impatience, shifted her eyes from one to the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now! I’ll give you change back myself so’s you won’t like it!” roughly, +altogether boyishly, cried out Sobashnikov. “Only it’s not worth while mussing +one’s hands with every ...” he wanted to add a new invective, but decided not +to, “with every ... And besides, comrades, I do not intend to stay here any +longer. I am too well brought up to be hail-fellow-well-met with such persons.” +</p> + +<p> +He rapidly and haughtily walked to the door. +</p> + +<p> +It was necessary for him to pass almost right up against Platonov, who, out of +the corner of his eye, animal-like, was watching his every movement. For a +moment in the mind of the student flashed a desire to strike Platonov +unexpectedly, from the side, and jump away—the comrades would surely part them +and not allow a fight. But immediately, almost without looking at the reporter, +with some sort of deep, unconscious instinct, he saw and sensed those broad +hands, lying quietly on the table, that obdurately bowed head with its broad +forehead, and all the ungainly, alert, powerful body of his foe, so neligently +hunched up and spread out on the chair, but ready at any second for a quick and +terrific blow. And Sobashnikov walked out into the corridor, loudly banging the +door after him. +</p> + +<p> +“Good riddance to bad rubbish,” said Jennie after him in a mocking patter. +“Tamarochka, pour me out some more cognac.” +</p> + +<p> +But the lanky student Petrovsky got up from his place and considered it +necessary to defend Sobashnikov. +</p> + +<p> +“Just as you wish, gentlemen; this is a matter of your personal view, but out +of principle I go together with Boris. Let him be not right and so on, we can +express censure to him in our own intimate company, but when an insult has been +rendered our comrade—I can’t remain here. I am going away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God!” And Lichonin nervously and vexedly scratched his temple. “Boris +behaved himself all the time in the highest degree vulgarly, rudely and +foolishly. What sort of corporate honour do you think this is? A collective +walk-out from editorial offices, from political meetings, from brothels. We +aren’t officers to screen the foolishness of each comrade.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, just as you wish, but I am going away out of a sense of +solidarity!” said Petrovsky importantly and walked out. +</p> + +<p> +“May the earth be as down upon you!” Jennie sent after him. +</p> + +<p> +But how tortuous and dark the ways of the human soul! Both of them—Sobashnikov +as well as Petrovsky—acted in their indignation rather sincerely, but the first +only half so, while the second only a quarter in all. Sobashnikov, despite his +intoxication and wrath, still had knocking at the door of his mind the alluring +thought that now it would be more convenient and easier before his comrades to +call out Jennka on the quiet and to be alone with her. While Petrovsky, with +exactly the same aim, went after Sobashnikov in order to make a loan of three +roubles from him. In the general drawing room they made things up between them, +and after ten minutes Zociya, the housekeeper, shoved in her little, squinting, +pink, cunning face through the half-open door of the private room. +</p> + +<p> +“Jennechka,” she called, “go, they have brought your linen, go count it. And +you, Niura, the actor begs to come for just a minute, to drink some champagne. +He’s with Henrietta and Big Manya.” +</p> + +<p> +The precipitate and incongruous quarrel of Platonov and Sobashnikov long served +as a subject of conversation. The reporter, in cases like this, always felt +shame, uneasiness, regret and the torments of conscience. And despite the fact +that all those who remained were on his side, he was speaking with weariness in +his voice: +</p> + +<p> +“By God, gentlemen! I’ll go away, best of all. Why should I disrupt your +circle? We were both at fault. I’ll go away. Don’t bother about the bill. I’ve +already paid Simeon, when I was going after Pasha.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin suddenly rumpled up his hair and stood up +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, the devil take it! I’ll go and drag him here. Upon my word of honour, +they’re both fine fellows—Boris as well as Vaska. But they’re young yet, and +bark at their own tails. I’m going after them, and I warrant that Boris will +apologize.” +</p> + +<p> +He went away, but came back after five minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“They repose,” said he, sombrely, and made a hopeless gesture with his hand. +“Both of them.” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0111"></a> CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<p> +At this moment Simeon walked into the cabinet with a tray upon which stood two +goblets of a bubbling golden wine and lay a large visiting card. +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask which of you here might be Mister Gavrila Petrovich Yarchenko?” he +said, looking over all those sitting. +</p> + +<p> +“I,” responded Yarchenko. +</p> + +<p> +“If youse please. The actor gent sent this.” +</p> + +<p> +Yarchenko took the visiting card and read aloud: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Eumenii Poluectovich<br/> +EGMONT—LAVRETZKI<br/> +Dramatic Artist of Metropolitan Theatres +</p> + +<p> +“It’s remarkable,” said Volodya Pavlov, “that all the Russian Garricks bear +such queer names, on the style of Chrysantov, Thetisov, Mamontov and +Epimhakov.” +</p> + +<p> +“And besides that, the best known of them must needs either speak thickly, or +lisp, or stammer,” added the reporter. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but most remarkable of all is the fact that I do not at all have the +honour of knowing this artist of the metropolitan theatres. However, there’s +something else written on the reverse of this card. Judging by the handwriting, +it was written by a man greatly drunk and little lettered. +</p> + +<p> +“‘I dreenk’—not drink, but dreenk,” explained Yarchenko. “‘I dreenk to the +health of the luminary of Russian science, Gavrila Petrovich Yarchenko, whom I +saw by chance when I was passing by through the collidor. Would like to clink +glasses together personally. If you do not remember, recollect the National +Theatre, Poverty Is No Disgrace, and the humble artist who played African.’ +Yes, that’s right,” said Yarchenko. “Once, somehow, they saddled me with the +arrangement of this benefit performance in the National Theatre. Also, there +dimly glimmers some clean-shaven haughty visage, but ... What shall it be, +gentlemen?” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin answered good-naturedly: +</p> + +<p> +“Why, drag him here. Perhaps he’s funny.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you?” the sub-professor turned to Platonov. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all the same to me. I know him slightly. At first he’ll shout: ‘KELLNER, +champagne!’ then burst into tears about his wife, who is an angel, then deliver +a patriotic speech and finally raise a row over the bill, but none too loudly. +All in all he’s entertaining.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him come,” said Volodya, from behind the shoulder of Katie, who was +sitting on his knees, swinging her legs. +</p> + +<p> +“And you, Veltman?” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” the student came to with a start. He was sitting on the divan with his +back to his companions, near the reclining Pasha, bending over her, and already +for a long time, with the friendliest appearance of sympathy, had been stroking +her, now on the shoulder, now on the hair at the nape of the neck, while she +was smiling at him with her shyly shameless and senselessly passionate smile +through half-closed and trembling eyelashes. “What? What’s it all about? Oh +yes,—is it all right to let the actor in? I’ve nothing against it. Please do +...” +</p> + +<p> +Yarchenko sent an invitation through Simeon, and the actor came and immediately +commenced the usual actor’s play. In the door he paused, in his long frock +coat, shining with its silk lapels, with a glistening opera hat, which he held +with his arm in the middle of his chest, like an actor portraying in the +theatre an elderly worldly lion or a bank director. And approximately these +persons he was inwardly picturing to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“May I be permitted, gentlemen, to intrude into your intimate company?” he +asked in an unctuous, kindly voice, with a half-bow done somewhat to one side. +</p> + +<p> +They asked him in, and he began to introduce himself. Shaking hands, he stuck +out his elbow forward and raised it so high that the hand proved to be far +lower. Now it was no longer a bank director, but such a clever, splendid +fellow, a sportsman and a rake of the golden youths. But his face—with rumpled, +wild eyebrows and with denuded lids without lashes—was the vulgar, harsh and +low face of a typical alcoholic, libertine, and pettily cruel man. Together +with him came two of his ladies: Henrietta the eldest girl in years in the +establishment of Anna Markovna, experienced, who had seen everything and had +grown accustomed to everything, like an old horse on the tether of a threshing +machine, the possessor of a thick bass, but still a handsome woman; and Big +Manka, or Manka the Crocodile. Henrietta since still the preceding night had +not parted from the actor, who had taken her from the house to a hotel. +</p> + +<p> +Having seated himself alongside of Yarchenko, he straight off began to play a +new role—he became something on the order of an old good soul of a landed +proprietor, who had at one time been at a university himself, and now can not +look upon the students without a quiet, fatherly emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me, gentlemen, that one’s soul rests from all these worldly squabbles +in the midst of youth,” he was saying, imparting to his depraved and harsh face +an actor-like, exaggerated and improbable expression of being moved. “This +faith in a high ideal, these honest impulses! ... What can be loftier and purer +than our Russian students as a body? ... KELLNER! Chompa-a-agne!” he yelled +deafeningly all of a sudden, and dealt a heavy blow on the table with his fist. +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin and Yarchenka did not wish to remain in debt to him. A spree began. +God knows in what manner Mishka the Singer and Nicky the Book-keeper soon found +themselves in the cabinet, and at once began singing in their galloping voices: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“They fe-e-e-el the tru-u-u-uth,<br/> +Come thou daw-aw-aw-awning quicker ...” +</p> + +<p> +There also appeared Roly-Poly, who had awakened. Letting his head drop +touchingly to one side and having made little narrowed, lachrymose, sweet eyes +in his wrinkled old face of a Don Quixote, he was speaking in a persuasively +begging tone: +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen students ... you ought to treat a little old man. I love education, +by God! ... Allow me!” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin was glad to see everybody, but Yarchenko in the beginning—until the +champagne had mounted to his head—only raised high his small, short eyebrows +with a timorous, wondering and naive air. It suddenly became crowded, smoky, +noisy and close in the cabinet. Simeon, with rattling, closed the blinds with +bolts on the outside. The women, just having gotten done with a visit or in the +interim between dances, walked into the room, sat on somebody’s knees, smoked, +sang disjointedly, drank wine, kissed and again went away, and again came. The +clerks of Kereshkovsky, offended because the damsels bestowed more attention +upon the cabinet than the drawing room, did start a row and tried to enter into +a provoking explanation with the students, but Simeon in a moment quelled them +with two or three authoritative words, thrown out as though in passing. +</p> + +<p> +Niura came back from her room and a little later Petrovsky followed her. +Petrovsky with an extremely serious air declared that he had been walking on +the street all this time, thinking over the incident which had taken place and +in the end had come to the conclusion that comrade Boris was in reality not in +the right, but that there also was a circumstance in extenuation of his +fault—intoxication. Also, Jennie came later, but alone—Sobashnikov had fallen +asleep in her room. The actor proved to have no end of talents. He very +faithfully imitated the buzzing of a fly which an intoxicated man is catching +on a window-pane, and the sounds of a saw; drolly performed, standing with his +face in the corner, the conversation of a nervous lady over the telephone; +imitated the singing of a phonograph record, and in the end, with exceeding +likeness to life, showed a little Persian lad with a little trained monkey. +Holding on with his hand to an imaginary small chain and at the same time +baring his teeth, squatting like a monkey, winking his eyelids often, and +scratching now his posteriors, now the hair on his head, he sang through his +nose, in a monotonous and sad voice, distorting the words: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The i-young cissack to the war has went,<br/> +The i-young ladee underneath the fence lies spraw-aw-ling.<br/> +AINA, AINA, AI-NA-NA-NA, AI-NA NA-NA-NA.” +</p> + +<p> +In conclusion he took Little White Manka in his arms, wrapped her up in the +skirts of his frock and, stretching out his hand and making a tearful face, +began to nod his head, bent to one side, as is done by little swarthy, dirty, +oriental lads who roam over all Russia in long, old, soldiers’ overcoats, with +bared chest of a bronze colour, holding a coughing, moth-eaten little monkey in +their bosom. +</p> + +<p> +“And who may you be?” severely asked fat Kate, who knew and loved this joke. +</p> + +<p> +“Me Serbian, lady-y-y,” piteously moaned the actor through his nose. “Give me +somethin’, lady-y-y.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what do they call your little monkey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Matreshka-a-a ... Him ’ungry-y-y, lady ... him want eat...” +</p> + +<p> +“And have you got a passport?” +</p> + +<p> +“We Serbia-a-an. Gimme something lady-y-y...” +</p> + +<p> +The actor proved not superfluous on the whole. He created at once a great deal +of noise and raised the spirits of the company, which were beginning to be +depressing. And every minute he cried out in a stentorian voice: +</p> + +<p> +“KELLNER! Chompa-a-agne!”—although Simeon, who was accustomed to his manner +paid very little attention to these cries. +</p> + +<p> +There began a truly Russian hubbub, noisy and senseless. The rosy, +flaxen-haired, pleasing Tolpygin was playing LA SEGUIDILLE from CARMEN on the +piano, while Roly-Poly was dancing a Kamarinsky peasant dance to its tune. His +narrow shoulders hunched up, twisted all to one side, the fingers of his +hanging hands widely spread, he intricately hopped on one spot from one long, +thin leg to the other, then suddenly letting out a piercing grunt, would throw +himself upward and shout out in time to his wild dance: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Ugh! Dance on, Matthew,<br/> +Don’t spare your boots, you! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, for one stunt like that a quartern of brandy isn’t enough!” he would add, +shaking his long, graying hair. +</p> + +<p> +“They fee-ee-eel! the tru-u-u-uth!” roared the two friends, raising with +difficulty their underlids, grown heavy, beneath dull, bleary eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The actor commenced to tell obscene anecdotes, pouring them out as from a bag, +and the women squealed from delight, bent in two from laughter and threw +themselves against the backs of their chairs. Veltman, who had long been +whispering with Pasha, inconspicuously, in the hubbub, slipped out of the +cabinet, while a few minutes after him Pasha also went away, smiling with her +quiet, insane and bashful smile. +</p> + +<p> +But all of the remaining students as well, save Lichonin, one after the other, +some on the quiet, some under one pretext or another, vanished from the cabinet +and did not return for long periods. Volodya Pavlov experienced a desire to +look at the dancing; Tolpygin’s head began to ache badly, and he asked Tamara +to lead him somewhere where he might wash up; Petrovski, having “touched” +Lichonin for three roubles on the quiet, went out into the corridor and only +from there despatched the housekeeper Zociya for Little White Manka. Even the +prudent and fastidious Ramses could not cope with that spicy feeling which +to-day’s strange, vivid and unwholesome beauty of Jennie excited in him. It +proved that he had some important, undeferrable business this morning; it was +necessary to go home and snatch a bit of sleep if only for a couple of hours. +But, having told good-bye to his companions, he, before going out of the +cabinet, rapidly and with deep significance pointed the door out to Jennie with +his eyes. She understood, slowly, scarcely perceptibly, lowered her eyelashes +as a sign of consent, and, when she again raised them, Platonov, who almost +without looking had seen this silent dialogue, was struck by that expression of +malice and menace in her eyes which she sped the back of the departing Ramses. +Having waited for five minutes she got up, said “Excuse me, I’ll be right +back,” and went out, swinging her short orange skirt. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now? Is it your turn, Lichonin?” asked the reporter banteringly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, brother, you’re mistaken!” said Lichonin and clacked his tongue. “And I’m +not doing it out of conviction or on principle, either ... No! I, as an +anarchist, proclaim the gospel that the worse things are, the better ... But, +fortunately, I am a gambler and spend all my temperament on gaming; on that +account simple squeamishness speaks louder within me than this same unearthly +feeling. But it’s amazing our thoughts coincided. I just wanted to ask you +about the same thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“I—no. Sometimes, if I become very much tired out, I sleep here over night. I +take from Isaiah Savvich the key to his little room and sleep on the divan. But +all the girls here are already used to the fact that I am a being of the third +sex.” +</p> + +<p> +“And really ... never? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Never.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what’s right is right!” exclaimed Nhira. “Sergei Ivanich is like a holy +hermit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Previously, some five years ago, I experienced this also,” continued Platonov. +“But, do you know, it’s really too tedious and disgusting. Something on the +nature of these flies which the actor gentleman just represented. They’re stuck +together on the window sill, and then in some sort of fool wonder scratch their +backs with their little hind legs and fly apart forever. And to play at love +here? ... Well, for that I’m no hero out of their sort of novel. I’m not +handsome, am shy with women, uneasy, and polite. While here they thirst for +savage passions, bloody jealousy, tears, poisonings, beatings, sacrifices,—in a +word, hysterical romanticism. And it’s easy to understand why. The heart of +woman always wants love, while they are told of love every day with various +sour, drooling words. Involuntarily one wants pepper in one’s love. One no +longer wants words of passion, but tragically-passionate deeds. And for that +reason thieves, murderers, souteners and other riff-raff will always be their +lovers.” +</p> + +<p> +“And most important of all,” added Platonov, “that would at once spoil for me +all the friendly relations which have been so well built up.” +</p> + +<p> +“Enough of joking!” incredulously retorted Lichonin. “Then what compels you to +pass days and nights here? Were you a writer—it would be a different matter. +It’s easy to find an explanation; well, you’re gathering types or something ... +observing life ... After the manner of that German professor who lived for +three years with monkeys, in order to study closely their language and manners. +But you yourself said that you don’t indulge in writing?” +</p> + +<p> +“It isn’t that I don’t indulge, but I simply don’t know how—I can’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll write that down. Now let’s suppose another thing—that you come here as +an apostle of a better, honest life, in the nature of a, now, saviour of +perishing souls. You know, as in the dawn of Christianity certain holy fathers +instead of standing on a column for thirty years or living in a cave in the +woods, went to the market places, into houses of mirth, to the harlots and +scaramuchios. But you aren’t inclined that way.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then why, the devil take it, do you hang around here? I can see very well that +a great deal here is revolting and oppressive and painful to your own self. For +example, this fool quarrel with Boris or this flunky who beats a woman, and—, +in general, the constant contemplation of every kind of filth, lust, +bestiality, vulgarity, drunkenness. Well, now, since you say so—I believe that +you don’t give yourself up to lechery. But then, still more incomprehensible to +me is your MODUS VIVENDI, to express myself in the style of leading articles.” +</p> + +<p> +The reporter did not answer at once: +</p> + +<p> +“You see,” he began speaking slowly, with pauses, as though for the first time +lending ear to his thoughts and weighing them. “You see, I’m attracted and +interested in this life by its ... how shall I express it? ... its fearful, +stark truth. Do you understand, it’s as though all the conventional coverings +were ripped off it. There is no falsehood, no hypocrisy, no sanctimoniousness, +there are no compromises of any sort, neither with public opinion, nor with the +importunate authority of our forefathers, nor with one’s own conscience. No +illusions of any kind, nor any kind of embellishments! Here she is—‘I! A public +woman, a common vessel, a cloaca for the drainage of the city’s surplus lust. +Come to me any one who wills—thou shalt meet no denial, therein is my service. +But for a second of this sensuality in haste—thou shalt pay in money, +revulsion, disease and ignominy.’ And that is all. There is not a single phase +of human life where the basic main truth should shine with such a monstrous, +hideous, stark clearness, without any shade of human prevarication or +self-whitewashing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know! These women lie like the very devil. You just go and talk +with her a bit about her first fall. She’ll spin you such a yarn!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t you ask then. What business is that of yours? But even if they do +lie, they lie altogether like children. But then, you know yourself that +children are the foremost, the most charming fibsters, and at the same time the +sincerest people on earth. And it’s remarkable, that both they and the +others—that is, both prostitutes and children—lie only to us—men—and grown-ups. +Among themselves they don’t lie—they only inspiredly improvise. But they lie to +us because we ourselves demand this of them, because we clamber into their +souls, altogether foreign to us, with our stupid tactics and questionings, +because they regard us in secret as great fools and senseless dissemblers. But +if you like, I shall right now count off on my fingers all the occasions when a +prostitute is sure to lie, and you yourself will be convinced that man incites +her to lying.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, we shall see.” “First: she paints herself mercilessly, at times +even in detriment to herself. Why? Because every pimply military cadet, who is +so distressed by his sexual maturity that he grows stupid in the spring, like a +wood-cock on a drumming-log; or some sorry petty government clerk or other from +the department of the parish, the husband of a pregnant woman and the father of +nine infants—why, they both come here not at all with the prudent and simple +purpose of leaving here the surplus of their passion. He, the good for nothing, +has come to enjoy himself; he needs beauty, d’you see—aesthete that he is! But +all these girls, these daughters of the simple, unpretentious, great Russian +people—how do they regard aesthetics? ‘What’s sweet, that’s tasty; what’s red, +that’s handsome.’ And so, there you are, receive, if you please, a beauty of +antimony, white lead and rouge. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s one. Secondly, his desire for beauty isn’t enough for this resplendent +cavalier—no, he must in addition be served with a similitude of love, so that +from his caresses there should kindle in the woman this same ‘fa-hire of +in-sane pahass-ssion!’ which is sung about In idiotical ballads. Ah! Then THAT +is what you want? There y’are! And the woman lies to him with countenance, +voice, sighs, moans, movements of the body. And even he himself in the depths +of his soul knows about this professional deception, but—go along with +you!—still deceives himself: ‘Ah, what a handsome man I am! Ah, how the women +love me! Ah, into what an ecstasy I bring them ...’ You know, there are cases +when a man with the most desperate brazenness, in the most unlikely manner, is +flattered to his face, and he himself sees and knows it very plainly, but—the +devil take it!—despite everything a delightful feeling of some sort lubricates +his soul. And so here. Query: whose is the initiative in the lie? +</p> + +<p> +“And here’s a third point for you, Lichonin. You prompted it yourself. They lie +most of all when they are asked: ‘How did you come to such a life?’ But what +right have you to ask her about that, may the devil take you! For she does not +push her way into your intimate life? She doesn’t interest herself with your +first, ‘holy’ love or the virtue of your sisters and your bride. Aha! You pay +money? Splendid! The bawd and the bouncer, and the police, and medicine, and +the city government, watch over your interests. Polite and seemly conduct on +the part of the prostitute hired by you for love is guaranteed you, and your +personality is immune ... even though in the most direct sense, in the sense of +a slap in the face, which you, of course, deserve through your aimless, and +perhaps tormenting interrogations. But you desire truth as well for your money? +Well, that you are never to discount and to control. They will tell you just +such a conventionalized history as you—yourself a man of conventionality and a +vulgarian—will digest easiest of all. Because by itself life is either +exceedingly humdrum and tedious to you, or else as exceedingly improbable as +only life can be improbable. And so you have the eternal mediocre history about +an officer, about a shop clerk, about a baby and a superannuated father, who +there, in the provinces, bewails his strayed daughter and implores her to +return home. But mark you, Lichonin, all that I’m saying doesn’t apply to you; +in you, upon my word of honour, I sense a sincere and great soul ... Let’s +drink to your health?” +</p> + +<p> +They drank. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I speak on?” continued Platonov undecidedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you bored?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I beg of you, speak on.” +</p> + +<p> +“They also lie, and lie especially innocently, to those who preen themselves +before them on political hobby horses. Here they agree with anything you want. +I shall tell her to-day: Away with the modern bourgeois order! Let us destroy +with bombs and daggers the capitalists, landed proprietors, and the +bureaucracy! She’ll warmly agree with me. But to-morrow the hanger-on Nozdrunov +will yell that it’s necessary to string up all the socialists, to beat up all +the students and massacre all the sheenies, who partake of communion in +Christian blood. And she’ll gleefully agree with him as well. But if in +addition to that you’ll also inflame her imagination, make her fall in love +with yourself, then she’ll go with you everywhere you may wish—on a pogrom, on +a barricade, on a theft, on a murder. But then, children also are yielding. And +they, by God, are children, my dear Lichonin... +</p> + +<p> +“At fourteen years she was seduced, and at sixteen she became a patent +prostitute, with a yellow ticket and a venereal disease. And here is all her +life, surrounded and fenced off from the universe with a sort of a bizarre, +impenetrable and dead wall. Turn your attention to her everyday +vocabulary—thirty or forty words, no more—altogether as with a baby or a +savage: to eat, to drink, to sleep, man, bed, the madam, rouble, lover, doctor, +hospital, linen, policeman—and that’s all. And so her mental development, her +experience, her interests, remain on an infantile plane until her very death, +exactly as in the case of a gray and naive lady teacher who has not crossed +over the threshold of a female institute since she was ten, as in the case of a +nun given as a child into a convent. In a word, picture to yourself a tree of a +genuinely great species, but raised in a glass bell, in a jar from jam. And +precisely to this childish phase of their existence do I attribute their +compulsory lying—so innocent, purposeless and habitual ... But then, how +fearful, stark, unadorned with anything the frank truth in this business-like +dickering about the price of a night; in these ten men in an evening; in these +printed rules, issued by the city fathers, about the use of a solution of boric +acid and about maintaining one’s self in cleanliness; in the weekly doctors’ +inspections; in the nasty diseases, which are looked upon as lightly and +facetiously, just as simply and without suffering, as a cold would be; in the +deep revulsion of these women to men—so deep, that they all, without +conception, compensate for it in the Lesbian manner and do not even in the +least conceal it. All their incongruous life is here, on the palm of my hand, +with all its cynicism, monstrous and coarse injustice; but there is in it none +of that falsehood and that hypocrisy before people and before one’s self, which +enmesh all humanity from top to bottom. Consider, my dear Lichonin, how much +nagging, drawn out, disgusting deception, how much hate, there is in any +marital cohabitation in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. How much blind, +merciless cruelty—precisely not animal, but human, reasoned, far-sighted, +calculated cruelty—there is in the sacred maternal instinct—and behold, with +what tender colours this instinct is adorned! Then what about all these +unnecessary, tom-fool professions, invented by cultured man for the +safeguarding of my nest, my bit of meat, my woman, my child, these different +overseers, controllers, inspectors, judges, attorneys, jailers, advocates, +chiefs, bureaucrats, generals, soldiers, and hundreds of thousands of titles +more. They all subserve human greed, cowardice, viciousness, servility, +legitimised sensuality, laziness-beggarliness!—yes, that is the real +word!—human beggarliness. But what magnificent words we have! The altar of the +fatherland, Christian compassion for our neighbor, progress, sacred duty, +sacred property, holy love. Ugh! I do not believe in a single fine word now, +and I am nauseated to infinity with these petty liars, these cowards and +gluttons! Beggar women! ... Man is born for great joy, for ceaseless creation, +in which he is God; for a broad, free love, unhindered by anything,—love for +everything: for a tree, for the sky, for man, for a dog, for the dear, benign, +beautiful earth,—oh, especially for the earth with its beatific motherhood, +with its mornings and nights, with its magnificent everyday miracles. But man +has lied himself out so, has become such an importunate beggar, and has sunk so +low! ... Ah, Lichonin, but I am weary!” +</p> + +<p> +“I, as an anarchist, partly understand you,” said Lichonin thoughtfully. It was +as though he heard and yet did not hear the reporter. Some thought was with +difficulty, for the first time, being born in his mind. “But one thing I can +not comprehend. If humanity has become so malodorous to you, then how do you +stand—and for so long, too,—all this,—” Lichonin took in the whole table with a +circular motion of his hand,—“the basest thing that mankind could invent?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t even know myself,” said Platonov with artlessness. “You see, I +am a vagabond, and am passionately in love with life. I have been a turner, a +compositor; I have sown and sold tobacco—the cheap Silver Makhorka kind—have +sailed as a stoker on the Azov Sea, have been a fisherman on the Black—on the +Dubinin fisheries; I have loaded watermelons and bricks on the Dnieper, have +ridden with a circus, have been an actor—I can’t even recall everything. And +never did need drive me. No, only an immeasurable thirst for life and an +insupportable curiosity. By God, I would like for a few days to become a horse, +a plant, or a fish, or to be a woman and experience childbirth; I would like to +live with the inner life, and to look upon the universe with the eyes of every +human being I meet. And so I wander care-free over towns and hamlets, bound by +nothing; know and love tens of trades and joyously float wherever it suits fate +to set my sail... And so it was that I came upon the brothel, and the more I +look at it, the more there grows within me alarm, incomprehension, and very +great anger. But even this will soon be at an end. When things get well into +autumn—away again! I’ll get into a rail-rolling mill. I’ve a certain friend, +he’ll manage it ... Wait, wait, Lichonin ... Listen to the actor ... That’s the +third act.” +</p> + +<p> +Egmont-Lavretzki, who until this had been very successfully imitating now a +shoat which is being put into a bag, now the altercation of a cat with a dog, +was beginning little by little to wilt and droop. Upon him was already +advancing the stage of self-revelation, next in order, in the paroxysm of which +he several times attempted to kiss Yarchenko’s hand. His lids had become red; +around the shaven, prickly lips had deepened the tearful wrinkles that gave him +an appearance of weeping; and it could be heard by his voice that his nose and +throat were already overflowing with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“I serve in a farce!” he was saying, smiting himself on the breast with his +fist. “I disport myself in striped trunks for the sport of the sated mob! I +have put out my torch, have hid my talent in the earth, like the slothful +servant! But fo-ormerly!” he began to bray tragically, “Fo-ormerly-y-y! Ask in +Novocherkassk, ask in Tvier, in Ustejne, in Zvenigorodok, in Krijopole.[10] +What a Zhadov and Belugin I was! How I played Max! What a figure I created of +Veltishchev—that was my crowning ro-ole ... Nadin-Perekopski was beginning with +me at Sumbekov’s! With Nikiphorov-Pavlenko did I serve. Who made the name for +Legunov-Pochainin? I! But no-ow ...” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[10] All provincial towns.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +He sniveled, and sought to kiss the sub-professor. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes! Despise me, brand me, ye honest folk. I play the tom-fool. I drink ... I +have sold and spilt the sacred ointment! I sit in a dive with vendable +merchandise. While my wife ... she is a saint, and pure, my little dove! ... +Oh, if she knew, if she only knew! she works hard, she runs a modiste’s shop; +her fingers—the fingers of an angel—are pricked with the needle, but I! Oh, +sainted woman! And I—the scoundrel!—whom do I exchange thee for! Oh, horror!” +The actor seized his hair. “Professor, let me, I’ll kiss your scholarly hand. +You alone understand me. Let us go, I’ll introduce you, you’ll see what an +angel this is! ... She awaits me, she does not sleep nights, she folds the tiny +hands of my little ones and together with them whispers: ‘Lord, save and +preserve papa.’” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re lying about it all, you ham!” said the drunken Little White Manka +suddenly, looking with hatred upon Egmont-Lavretzki. “She isn’t whispering +anything, but most peacefully sleeping with a man in your bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Be still, you w—!” vociferated the actor beside himself; and seizing a bottle +by the neck raised it high over his head. “Hold me, or else I’ll brain this +carrion. Don’t you dare besmirch with your foul tongue...” +</p> + +<p> +“My tongue isn’t foul—I take communion,” impudently replied the woman. “But +you, you fool, wear horns. You go traipsing around with prostitutes yourself, +and yet want your wife not to play you false. And look where the dummy’s found +a place to slaver, till he looks like he had reins in his mouth. And what did +you mix the children in for, you miserable papa you! Don’t you roll your eyes +and gnash your teeth at me. You won’t frighten me! W—yourself!” +</p> + +<p> +It required many efforts and much eloquence on the part of Yarchenko in order +to quiet the actor and Little White Manka, who always after Benedictine ached +for a row. The actor in the end burst into copious and unbecoming tears and +blew his nose, like an old man; he grew weak, and Henrietta led him away to her +room. +</p> + +<p> +Fatigue had already overcome everybody. The students, one after another, +returned from the bedrooms; and separately from them, with an indifferent air, +came their chance mistresses. And truly, both these and the others resembled +flies, males and females, just flown apart on the window pane. They yawned, +stretched, and for a long time an involuntary expression of wearisomeness and +aversion did not leave their faces, pale from sleeplessness, unwholesomely +glossy. And when they, before going their ways, said good-bye to each other, in +their eyes twinkled some kind of an inimical feeling, just as with the +participants of one and the same filthy and unnecessary crime. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going right now?” Lichonin asked the reporter in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, really, I don’t know myself. I did want to spend the night in the +cabinet of Isaiah Savvich, but it’s a pity to lose such a splendid morning. I’m +thinking of taking a bath, and then I’ll get on a steamer and ride to the +Lipsky monastery to a certain tippling black friar I know. But why?” +</p> + +<p> +“I would ask you to remain a little while and sit the others out. I must have a +very important word or two with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a go.” +</p> + +<p> +Yarchenko was the last to go. He averred a headache and fatigue. But scarcely +had he gone out of the house when the reporter seized Lichonin by the hand and +quickly dragged him into the glass vestibule of the entrance. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” he said, pointing to the street. +</p> + +<p> +And through the orange glass of the little coloured window Lichonin saw the +sub-professor, who was ringing at Treppel’s. After a minute the door opened and +Yarchenko disappeared through it. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you find out?” asked Lichonin with astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“A mere trifle! I saw his face, and saw his hands smoothing Verka’s tights. The +others were less restrained. But this fellow is bashful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, let’s go,” said Lichonin. “I won’t detain you long.” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0112"></a> CHAPTER XII.</h3> + +<p> +Of the girls only two remained in the cabinet-Jennie, who had come in her night +blouse, and Liuba, who had long been sleeping under cover of the conversation, +curled up into a ball in the large plush armchair. The fresh, freckled face of +Liuba had taken on a meek, almost childlike, expression, while the lips, just +as they had smiled in sleep, had preserved the light imprint of a radiant, +peaceful and tender smile. It was blue and biting in the cabinet from the dense +tobacco smoke; guttered, warty little streams had congealed on the candles in +the candelabras; the table, flooded with coffee and wine, scattered all over +with orange peels, seemed hideous. +</p> + +<p> +Jennie was sitting on the divan, her knees clasped around with her arms. And +again was Platonov struck by the sombre fire in her deep eyes, that seemed +fallen in underneath the dark eyebrows, formidably contracted downward, toward +the bridge of the nose. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll put out the candles,” said Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +The morning half-light, watery and drowsy, filled the room through the slits of +the blinds. The extinguished wicks of the candles smoked with faint streams. +The tobacco smoke swirled in blue, layered shrouds, but a ray of sunlight that +had cut its way through the heart-shaped hollow in a window shutter, +transpierced the cabinet obliquely with a joyous, golden sword of dust, and in +liquid, hot gold splashed upon the paper on the wall. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s better,” said Lichonin, sitting down. “The conversation will be short, +but ... the devil knows ... how to approach it.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at Jennie in abstraction. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I go away, then?” said she indifferently. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you sit a while,” the reporter answered for Lichonin. “She won’t be in the +way,” he turned to the student and slightly smiled. “For the conversation will +be about prostitution? Isn’t that so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes... sort of...” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then. You listen to her carefully. Her opinions happen to be of an +unusually cynical nature, but at times of exceeding weight.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin vigorously rubbed and kneaded his face with his palms, then +intertwined his fingers and nervously cracked them twice. It was apparent that +he was agitated and was himself constrained about that which he was getting +ready to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but isn’t it all the same!” he suddenly exclaimed angrily. “You were +to-day speaking about these women ... I listened... True, you haven’t told me +anything new. But-strangely-I, for some reason, as though for the first time in +my loose life, have looked upon this question with open eyes... I ask you, what +is prostitution in the end? What is it? The extravagant delirium of large +cities, or an eternal historical phenomenon? Will it cease some time? Or will +it die only with the death of all mankind? Who will answer me that?” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov was looking at him intently, narrowing his eyes slightly, through +habit. He wanted to know what main thought was inflicting such sincere torture +on Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +“When it will cease, none will tell you. Perhaps when the magnificent Utopias +of the socialists and anarchists will materialize, when the world will become +everyone’s and no one’s, when love will be absolutely free and subject only to +its own unlimited desires, while mankind will fuse into one happy family, +wherein will perish the distinction between mine and thine, and there will come +a paradise upon earth, and man will again become naked, glorified and without +sin. Perhaps it may be then...” +</p> + +<p> +“But now? Now?” asks Lichonin with growing agitation. “Shall I look on, with my +little hands folded? ‘It’s none of my affair?’ Tolerate it as an unavoidable +evil? Put up with it, and wash my hands of it? Shall I pronounce a benediction +upon it?” +</p> + +<p> +“This evil is not unavoidable, but insuperable. But isn’t it all the same to +you?” asked Platonov with cold wonder. “For you’re an anarchist, aren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil kind of an anarchist am I! Well, yes, I am an anarchist, +because my reason, when I think of life, always leads me logically to the +anarchistic beginning. And I myself think in theory: let men beat, deceive, and +fleece men, like flocks of sheep—let them!—violence will breed rancour sooner +or later. Let them violate the child, let them trample creative thought under +foot, let there be slavery, let there be prostitution, let them thieve, mock, +spill blood...Let them! The worse, the better, the nearer the end. There is a +great law, I think, the same for inanimate objects as well as for all the +tremendous and many-millioned human life: the power of effort is equal to the +power of resistance. The worse, the better. Let evil and vindictiveness +accumulate in mankind, let them grow and ripen like a monstrous abscess—an +abscess the size of the whole terrestrial sphere. For it will burst some time! +And let there be terror and insufferable pain. Let the pus deluge all the +universe. But mankind will either choke in it and perish, or, having gone +through the illness, will be regenerated to a new, beautiful life.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin avidly drank off a cup of cold black coffee and continued vehemently: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Just so do I and many others theorize, sitting in our rooms, over tea +with white bread and cooked sausage, when the value of each separate human life +is so-so, an infinitesimally small numeral in a mathematical formula. But let +me see a child abused, and the red blood will rush to my head from rage. And +when I look and look upon the labour of a moujik or a labourer, I am thrown +into hysterics for shame at my algebraic calculations. There is—the devil take +it!—there is something incongruous, altogether illogical, but which at this +time is stronger than human reason. Take to-day, now ... Why do I feel at this +minute as though I had robbed a sleeping man or deceived a three-year-old +child, or hit a bound person? And why does it seem to me to-day that I myself +am guilty of the evil of prostitution—guilty in my silence, my indifference, my +indirect permission? What am I to do, Platonov!” exclaimed the student with +grief in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +Platonov kept silent, squinting at him with his little narrow eyes. But Jennie +unexpectedly said in a caustic tone: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you do as one Englishwoman did ... A certain red-haired clodhopper came +to us here. She must have been important, because she came with a whole retinue +... all some sort of officials ... But before her had come the assistant of the +commissioner, with the precinct inspector Kerbesh. And the assistant directly +forewarned us, just like that: ‘If you stiffs, and so on and so on, will let +out even one little rude word, or something, then I won’t leave one stone upon +another of your establishment, while I’ll flog all the wenches soundly in the +station-house and make ’em rot in jail!’ Well, at last this galoot came. She +gibbered and she gibbered something in a foreign language, all the time pointed +to heaven with her hand, and then distributed a five-kopeck Testament to every +one of us and rode away. Now you ought to do the same, dearie.” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov burst into loud laughter. But seeing the naive and sad face of +Lichonin, who did not seem to understand, nor even suspect mockery, he +restrained his laughter and said seriously: +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t accomplish anything, Lichonin. While there will be property, there +will also be poverty. While marriage exists, prostitution also will not die. Do +you know who will always sustain and nourish prostitution? It is the so-called +decent people, the noble paterfamiliases, the irreproachable husbands, the +loving brothers. They will always find a seemly motive to legitimize, normalize +and put a wrapper all around paid libertinage, because they know very well that +otherwise it would rush in a torrent into their bedrooms and nurseries. +Prostitution is for them a deflection of the sensuousness of others from their +personal, lawful alcove. And even the respectable paterfamilias himself is not +averse to indulge in a love debauch in secret. And really, it is palling to +have always the one and the same thing the wife, the chambermaid, and the lady +on the side. Man, as a matter of fact, is a poly—and exceedingly so—a +polygamous animal. And to his rooster-like amatory instincts it will always be +sweet to unfold in such a magnificent nursery garden, A LA Treppel’s or Anna +Markovna’s. Oh, of course, a well-balanced spouse or the happy father of six +grown-up daughters will always be clamouring about the horror of prostitution. +He will even arrange with the help of a lottery and an amateur entertainment a +society for the saving of fallen women, or an asylum in the name of St. +Magdalene. But the existence of prostitution he will bless and sustain.” +</p> + +<p> +“Magdalene asylums!” with quiet laughter, full of an ancient hatred the ache of +which had not yet healed, repeated Jennie. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I know that all these false measures undertaken are stuff and a total +mockery,” cut in Lichonin. “But let me be ridiculous and stupid, yet I do not +wish to remain a commiserating spectator, who sits on a warm ledge, gazes upon +a conflagration, and is saying all the time: ‘Oh, my, but it’s burning ... by +God, it is burning! Perhaps there are even people burning!’—but for his part +merely laments and slaps his thighs.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now,” said Platonov harshly, “would you take a child’s syringe and go to +put out the fire with it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No!” heatedly exclaimed Lichonin ... “Perhaps—who knows?—perhaps I’ll succeed +in saving at least one living soul? It was just this that I wanted to ask you +about, Platonov, and you must help me ... Only, I implore you, without jeers, +without cooling off ...” +</p> + +<p> +“You want to take a girl out of here? To save her?” asked Platonov, looking at +him attentively. He now understood the drift of this entire conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes ... I don’t know ... I’ll try ...” answered Lichonin uncertainly. +</p> + +<p> +“She’ll come back,” said Platonov. +</p> + +<p> +“She will,” Jennie repeated with conviction. +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin walked up to her, took her by the hands and began to speak in a +trembling whisper: +</p> + +<p> +“Jennechka ... Perhaps you ... eh? For I don’t call you as a mistress ... but a +friend ... It’s all a trifle, half a year of rest ... and then we’ll master +some trade or other ... we’ll read...” +</p> + +<p> +Jennie snatched her hands out of his with vexation. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, into a bog with you!” she almost shouted. “I know you! Want me to darn +socks for you? Cook on a kerosene stove? Pass nights without sleeping on +account of you when you’ll be chitter-chattering with your short-haired +friends? But when you get to be a doctor or a lawyer, or a government clerk, +then it’s me will get a knee in the back: ‘Out on the street with you, now, you +public hide, you’ve ruined my young life. I want to marry a decent girl, pure, +and innocent! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“I meant it as a brother ... I meant it without that ...” mumbled Lichonin in +confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that kind of brothers. Until the first night ... Leave off and don’t +talk nonsense to me! It makes me tired to listen to it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, Lichonin!” began the reporter seriously. “Why, you will pile a load +beyond your strength upon yourself as well. I’ve known idealists, among the +populists, who married peasant girls out of principle. This is just the way +they thought—nature, black-loam, untapped forces. ... But this black-loam after +a year turned into the fattest of women, who lies the whole day in bed and +chews cookies, or studs her fingers with penny rings, spreads them out and +admires them. Or else sits in the kitchen, drinks sweet liquor with the +coachman and carries on a natural romance with him. Look out, here it will be +worse!” +</p> + +<p> +All three became silent. Lichonin was pale and was wiping his moist forehead +with a handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“No, the devil take it!” he cried out suddenly with obstinacy. “I don’t believe +you! I don’t want to believe! Liuba” he called loudly the girl who had fallen +asleep. “Liubochka!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl awoke, passed her palm over her lips, first to one side, then the +other, yawned, and smiled, in a funny, child-like manner. +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t sleeping, I heard everything,” she said. “I only dozed off for a +teeny-weeny bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Liuba, do you want to go away from here with me?” asked Lichonin and took her +by the hand. “But entirely, forever, to go away so’s never to return either to +a brothel or the street?” +</p> + +<p> +Liuba questioningly, with perplexity, looked at Jennie, as though seeking from +her an explanation of this jest. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s enough for you,” she said slyly. “You’re still studying yourself. Where +do you come in, then, to take a girl and set her up?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to set you up, Liuba ... I simply want to help you ... For it isn’t very +sweet for you in a brothel, is it now!” +</p> + +<p> +“Naturally, it isn’t all sugar! If I was as proud as Jennechka, or so enticing +like Pasha ... but I won’t get used to things here for anything ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, let’s go, let’s go! ...” entreated Lichonin. “Surely, you know +some manual work—well, now, sewing something, embroidering, cutting?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know anything!” answered Liuba bashfully and started laughing and +turned red, covering her mouth with the elbow of her free arm. “What’s asked of +us in the village, that I know, but anything more I don’t know. I can cook a +little ... I lived at the priest’s—cooked for him.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s splendid! That’s excellent!” Lichonin grew joyous. “I will assist you, +you’ll open a dining room ... A cheap dining room, you understand ... I’ll +advertise it for you ... The students will come! That’s magnificent! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s enough of making fun of me!” retorted Liuba, a bit offended, and again +looked askance and questioningly at Jennie. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s not joking,” answered Jennie with a voice which quavered strangely. “He’s +in earnest, seriously.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s my word of honour that I’m serious! Honest to God, now!” the student +caught her up with warmth and for some reason even made the sign of the cross +in the direction of the empty corner. +</p> + +<p> +“And really,” said Jennie, “take Liubka. That’s not the same thing as taking +me. I’m like an old dragoon’s nag, and used to it. You can’t make me over, +neither with hay nor a stick. But Liubka is a simple girl and a kind one. And +she hasn’t grown used to our life yet. What are you popping your eyes out at me +for, you ninny? Answer when you’re asked. Well? Do you want to or don’t you +want to?” +</p> + +<p> +“And why not? If they ain’t laughing, but for real ... And you, Jennechka, what +would you advise me ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re such wood!” Jennie grew angry. “What’s better according to you—to +rot on straw with a nose fallen through? To croak under the fence like a dog? +Or to turn honest? Fool! You ought to kiss his hands; but no, you’re getting +particular.” +</p> + +<p> +The naive Liuba did, in fact, extend her lips toward Lichonin’s hand, and this +movement made everybody laugh, and touched them just the least trifle. +</p> + +<p> +“And that’s very good! It’s like magic!” bustled the overjoyed Lichonin. “Go +and notify the proprietress at once that you’re going away from here forever. +And take the most necessary things; it isn’t as it used to be; now a girl can +go away from a brothel whenever she wants to.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it can’t be done that way,” Jennie stopped him; “she can go away, that’s +so, but you’ll have no end of unpleasantness and hullabaloo. Here’s what you +do, student. You won’t regret ten roubles?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, of course ... if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let Liuba tell the housekeeper that you’re taking her to your rooms for +to-day. That’s the fixed rate—ten roubles. And afterwards, well, even +to-morrow—come after the ticket and things. That’s nothing; we’ll work this +thing roundly. And after that you must go to the police with her ticket and +declare, that Liubka So-and-so has hired herself to you as chambermaid, and +that you desire to exchange her blank for a real passport. Well, Liubka, +lively! Take the money and march. And, look out, be as quick as possible with +the housekeeper, or else she, the bitch, will read it in your eyes. And also +don’t forget,” she cried, now after Liuba, “wipe the rouge off your puss, now. +Or else the drivers will be pointing their fingers at you.” +</p> + +<p> +After half an hour Liuba and Lichonin were getting on a cab at the entrance. +Jennie and the reporter were standing on the sidewalk. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re committing a great folly, Lichonin,” Platonov was saying listlessly, +“but I honour and respect the fine impulse within you. Here’s the thought—and +here’s the deed. You’re a brave and a splendid fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s to your commencement!” laughed Jennie. “Look out, don’t forget to send +for me to the christening.” +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t see it, no matter how long you wait for it!” laughed Lichonin, +waving his cap about. +</p> + +<p> +They rode off. The reporter looked at Jennie, and with astonishment saw tears +in her softened eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“God grant it, God grant it,” she was whispering. +</p> + +<p> +“What has been the matter with you to-day, Jennie?” he asked kindly. “What? Are +you oppressed? Can’t I do anything?” +</p> + +<p> +She turned her back to him and leaned over the bent balustrade of the stoop. +</p> + +<p> +“How shall I write to you, if need be?” she asked in a stifled voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, it’s simple. Editorial rooms of Echoes. So-and-so. They’ll pass it on to +me pretty fast.” +</p> + +<p> +“I ... I ... I ...” Jennie just began, but suddenly burst into loud, passionate +sobs and covered her face with her hands, “I’ll write you ...” +</p> + +<p> +And without taking her hands away from her face, her shoulders quivering, she +ran up the stoop and disappeared in the house, loudly banging the door after +her. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap0201"></a> PART TWO</h2> + +<h3> CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p> +Even to this day, after a lapse of ten years, the erstwhile inhabitants of the +Yamkas recall that year, abounding in unhappy, foul, bloody events, which began +with a series of trifling, small affrays, but terminated in the +administration’s, one fine day, taking and destroying completely the ancient, +long-warmed nest of legalized prostitution, which nest it had itself +created—scattering its remains over the hospitals, jails and streets of the big +city. Even to this day a few of the former proprietresses who have remained +alive and have reached the limit of decrepitude, and quondam housekeepers, fat +and hoarse, like pug-dogs grown old, recall this common destruction with +sorrow, horror, and stolid perplexity. +</p> + +<p> +Just like potatoes out of a sack, brawls, robberies, diseases, murders and +suicides began to pour down, and, it seemed, no one was to blame for this. All +these misfortunes just simply began to be more frequent of their own accord, to +pile one upon the other, to expand and grow; just as a small lump of snow, +pushed by the feet of urchins, becomes constantly bigger and bigger by itself +from the thawing snow sticking to it, grows bigger than the stature of a man, +and, finally, with one last, small effort is precipitated into a ravine and +rolls down as an enormous avalanche. The old proprietresses and housekeepers, +of course, had never heard of fatality; but inwardly, with the soul, they +sensed its mysterious presence in the inevitable calamities of that terrible +year. +</p> + +<p> +And, truly, everywhere in life where people are bound by common interests, +blood relationship, or the benefits of a profession into close, individualized +groups—there inevitably can be observed this mysterious law of sudden +accumulation, of a piling up, of events; their epidemicity, their strange +succession and connectedness, their incomprehensible lingering. This occurs, as +popular wisdom has long ago noted, in isolated families, where disease or death +suddenly falls upon the near ones in an inevitable, enigmatic order. +“Misfortune does not come alone.” “Misfortune without waits—open wide the +gates.” This is to be noticed also in monasteries, banks, governmental +departments, regiments, places of learning and other public institutions, where +for a long time, almost for decades, life flows evenly, like a marshy river; +and, suddenly, and after some altogether insignificant incident or other, there +begin transfers, changes in positions, expulsions from service, losses, +sicknesses. The members of society, just as though they had conspired, die, go +insane, are caught thieving, shoot or hang themselves; vacancy after vacancy is +freed; promotions follow promotions, new elements flow in, and, behold, after +two years there is not a one of the previous people on the spot; everything is +new, if only the institution has not fallen into pieces completely, has not +crept apart. And is it not the same astounding destiny which overtakes enormous +social, universal organizations—cities, empires, nations, countries, and, who +knows, perhaps whole planetary worlds? +</p> + +<p> +Something resembling this incomprehensible fatality swept over the Yamaskya +Borough as well, bringing it to a rapid and scandalous destruction. Now in +place of the boisterous Yamkas is left a peaceful, humdrum outskirt, in which +live truck-farmers, cat’s-meat men, Tartars, swineherds and butchers from the +near-by slaughterhouses. At the petition of these worthy people even the +designation of Yamaskya Borough itself, as disgracing the inhabitants with its +past, has been named over into Golubovka, in honour of the merchant Golubov, +owner of a shop dealing in groceries and delicacies, and warden of the local +church. +</p> + +<p> +The first subterranean shocks of this catastrophe began in the heat of summer, +at the time of the annual summer fair, which this year was unbelievably +brilliant. Many circumstances contributed to its extraordinary success, +multitudes, and the stupendousness of the deals concluded during it: the +building in the vicinity of three new sugar refineries, and the unusually +abundant crop of wheat, and, in particular, of sugar beets; the commencement of +work in the laying of an electric trolley and of canalization; the building of +a new road to the distance of 750 versts; but mainly, the fever of building +which seized the whole town, all the banks and financial institutions, and all +the houseowners. Factories for making brick sprang up on the outskirts of the +town like mushrooms. A grandiose agricultural exposition opened. Two new +steamer lines came into being, and they, together with the previously +established ones, frenziedly competed with each other, transporting freight and +pilgrims. In competition they reached such a state, that they lowered their +passenger rates for the third class from seventy-five kopecks to five, three, +two, and even one kopeck. In the end, ready to fall from exhaustion in the +unequal struggle, one of the steamship companies offered a free passage to all +the third-class passengers. Then its competitor at once added to the free +passage half a loaf of white bread as well. But the biggest and most +significant enterprise of this city was the engineering of the extensive river +port, which had attracted to it hundreds of thousands of labourers and which +cost God knows what money. +</p> + +<p> +It must also be added, that the city was at this time celebrating the +millennial anniversary of its famous abbey, the most honoured and the richest +among all the monasteries of Russia. From all the ends of Russia, out of +Siberia, from the shores of the Frozen Ocean, from the extreme south—the Black +and Caspian Seas—countless pilgrims had gathered for the worship of the local +sanctities: the abbey’s saints, reposing deep underground in calcareous +caverns. Suffice it to say, that the monastery gave shelter, and food of a +sort, to forty thousand people daily; while those for whom there was not enough +room lay, at night, side by side, like logs, in the extensive yards and lanes +of the abbey. +</p> + +<p> +This was a summer out of some fairy-tale. The population of the city increased +well-nigh fourfold through every sort of newly-come people. Stone-masons, +carpenters, painters, engineers, technicians, foreigners, agriculturists, +brokers, shady business men, river navigators, unoccupied knaves, tourists, +thieves, card sharpers—they all overflowed the city, and not in a single hotel, +the most dirty and dubious one, was there a vacant room. Insane prices were +paid for quarters. The stock exchange gambled on a grand scale, as never before +or since that summer. Money in millions simply flowed from hands to hands, and +thence to a third pair. In one hour colossal riches were created, but then many +former firms burst, and yesterday’s men of wealth turned into beggars. The +commonest of labourers bathed and warmed themselves in this golden flood. +Stevedores, draymen, street porters, roustabouts, hod carriers and ditch +diggers still remember to this day what money they earned by the day during +this mad summer. Any tramp received no less than four of five roubles a day at +the unloading of barges laden with watermelons. And all this noisy, foreign +band, locoed by the easy money, intoxicated with the sensual beauty of the +ancient, seductive city, enchanted by the delightful warmth of the southern +nights, made drunk by the insidious fragrance of the white acacias—these +hundreds of thousands of insatiable, dissolute beasts in the image of men, with +all their massed will clamoured: “Give us woman!” +</p> + +<p> +In a single month new amusement enterprises—chic Tivolis, CHATEAUX DES FLEURES, +Olympias, Alcazars, etc., with a chorus and an operetta; many restaurants and +beerhouses, with little summer gardens, and common little taverns—sprang up by +the score in the city, in the vicinity of the building port. On every crossing +new “violet-wine” houses were opened every day—little booths of boards, in each +of which, under the pretext of selling bread-cider, old wenches trafficked in +themselves by twos and threes, right alongside behind a partition of deal, and +to many mothers and fathers is this summer painful and memorable through the +degrading diseases of their sons—schoolboys and military cadets. For the casual +arrivals servants were demanded, and thousands of peasant girls started out +from the surrounding villages toward the city. It was inevitable that the +demand on prostitution should become unusually high. And so, from Warsaw, from +Lodz, from Odessa, from Moscow, and even from St. Petersburg, even from abroad, +flocked together an innumerable multitude of foreign women; cocottes of Russian +fabrication, the most ordinary prostitutes of the rank and file, and chic +Frenchwomen and Viennese. Imperiously told the corrupting influence of the +hundreds of millions of easy money. It was as though this cascade of gold had +lashed down upon, had set to whirling and deluged within it, the whole city. +The number of thefts and murders increased with astounding rapidity. The +police, collected in augmented proportions, lost its head and was swept off its +feet. But it must also be said that, having gorged itself with plentiful +bribes, it resembled a sated python, willy-nilly drowsy and listless. People +were killed for anything and nothing, just so. It happened that men would walk +up to a person in broad daylight somewhere on an unfrequented street and ask: +“What’s your name?” “Fedorov.” “Aha, Federov? Then take this!” and they would +slit his belly with a knife. They nicknamed these blades just that in the +city—“rippers”; and there were among them names of which the city news seemed +actually proud: the two brothers Polishchuk (Mitka and Dundas), Volodka the +Greek, Fedor Miller, Captain Dmitriev, Sivocho, Dobrovolski, Shpachek, and many +others. +</p> + +<p> +Both day and night on the main streets of the frenzied city stood, moved, and +yelled the mob, as though at a fire. It would be almost impossible to describe +what went on in the Yamkas then. Despite the fact that the madams had increased +the staff of their patients to more than double and increased their prices +trebly, their poor demented girls could not catch up in satisfying the demands +of the drunken, crazed public, which threw money around like chips. It happened +that in the drawing room, filled to overflowing with people, each girl would be +awaited for by some seven, eight, at times even ten, men. It was, truly, some +kind of a mad, intoxicated, convulsive time! +</p> + +<p> +And from that very time began all the misfortunes of the Yamkas, which brought +them to ruin. And together with the Yamkas perished also the house, familiar to +us, of the stout, old, pale-eyed Anna Markovna. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0202"></a> CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p> +The passenger train sped merrily from the south to the north, traversing golden +fields of wheat and beautiful groves of oak, careering with rumbling upon iron +bridges over bright rivers, leaving behind it whirling clouds of smoke. +</p> + +<p> +In the COUPE of the second class, even with open windows, there was a fearful +stuffiness, and it was hot. The smell of sulphurous smoke irritated the throat. +The rocking and the heat had completely tired out the passengers, save one, a +merry, energetic, mobile Hebrew, splendidly dressed, accommodating, sociable +and talkative. He was travelling with a young woman, and it was at once +apparent, especially through her, that they were newly-weds; so often did her +face flare up with an unexpected colour at every tenderness of her husband, +even the least. And when she raised her eyelashes to look upon him, her eyes +would shine like stars, and grow humid. And her face was as beautiful as only +the faces of young Hebrew maidens in love can be beautiful—all tenderly rosy, +with rosy lips, rounded out in beautiful innocence, and with eyes so black that +their pupils could not be distinguished from the irises. +</p> + +<p> +Unabashed by the presence of three strange people, he showered his caresses +upon his companion every minute, and, it must be said, sufficiently coarse +ones. With the unceremoniousness of an owner, with that especial egoism of one +in love, who, it would seem, is saying to the whole universe: “See, how happy +we are—this makes you happy also, isn’t that so?”—he would now pass his hand +over her leg, which resiliently and in relief stood out beneath her dress, now +pinch her on the cheek, now tickle her neck with his stiff, black, turned-up +moustache ... But, even though he did sparkle with delight, there was still +something rapacious, wary, uneasy to be glimpsed in his frequently winking +eyes, in the twitching of the upper lip, and in the harsh outline of his +shaved, square chin, jutting out, with a scarcely noticeable dent in the +middle. +</p> + +<p> +Opposite this infatuated couple were placed three passengers—a retired general, +a spare, neat little old man, with pomade on his hair, with curls combed +forward to the temples; a stout land-owner, who had taken off his starched +collar, but was still gasping from the heat and mopping his face every minute +with a wet handkerchief; and a young infantry officer. The endless +talkativeness of Simon Yakovlevich (the young man had already managed to inform +his neighbours that he was called Simon Yakovlevich Horizon) tired and +irritated the passengers a trifle, just like the buzzing of a fly, that on a +sultry summer day rhythmically beats against a window pane of a closed, stuffy +room. But still, he knew how to raise their spirits: he showed tricks of magic; +told Hebrew anecdotes, full of a fine humour of their own. When his wife would +go out on the platform to refresh herself, he would tell such things that the +general would melt into a beatific smile, the land-owner would neigh, rocking +his black-loam stomach, while the sub-lieutenant, a smooth-faced boy, only a +year out of school, scarcely controlling his laughter and curiosity, would turn +away to one side, that his neighbours might not see him turning red. +</p> + +<p> +His wife tended Horizon with a touching, naive attention; she wiped his face +with a handkerchief, waved upon him with a fan, adjusted his cravat every +minute. And his face at these times became laughably supercilious and stupidly +self-conceited. +</p> + +<p> +“But allow me to ask,” asked the spare little general, coughing politely, +“allow me to ask, my dear sir, what occupation might you pursue?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my God!” with a charming frankness retorted Simon Yakovlevich. “Well, what +can a poor Jew do in our time? It’s a bit of a travelling salesman and a +commission broker by me. At the present time I’m far from business. You—he! he! +he!—understand yourselves, gentlemen. A honeymoon—don’t turn red, Sarochka—it +don’t repeat itself three times in a year. But afterwards I’ll have to travel +and work a great deal. Here we’ll come with Sarochka to town, will pay the +visits to her relatives, and then again on the road. On my first trip I’m +thinking of taking my wife. You know, sort of a wedding journey. I’m a +representative from Sidris and two English firms. Wouldn’t you like to have a +look? Here are the samples with me ...” +</p> + +<p> +He very rapidly took out of a small, elegant case of yellow leather a few long +cardboard folding books, and with the dexterity of a tailor began to unfold +them, holding one end, from which their folds fell downward with a light +crackling. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, what splendid samples: they don’t give in to foreign ones at all. Please +notice. Here, for instance, is Russian and here English tricot, or here, cangan +and cheviot. Compare, feel it, and you’ll be convinced that the Russian samples +almost don’t give in to the foreign. Why, that speaks of progress, of the +growth of culture. So it’s absolutely for nothing that Europe counts us +Russians such barbarians. +</p> + +<p> +“And so we’ll pay our family visits, will look at the fair, pay a visit to the +CHATEAU DES FLEURS, enjoy ourselves a little, stroll a bit, and then to the +Volga down to Tzaritzin, to the Black Sea, and then again home to our native +Odessa.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a fine journey,” said the sub-lieutenant modestly. +</p> + +<p> +“I should say it’s fine,” agreed Simon Yakovlevich; “but there are no roses +without thorns. The work of a travelling salesman is exceedingly difficult and +requires many kinds of knowledge, and not so much the knowledge of business as +the knowledge of—how shall I say it?—the knowledge of the human soul. Another +man may not even want to give an order, but you must work like an elephant to +convince him, and argue until he feels the clearness and justice of your words. +Because I take only absolutely clean lines exclusively, of which there can be +no doubts. A fake or a bad line I will not take, although they should offer me +millions for it. Ask wherever you like, in any store which deals in cloths or +suspenders GLOIRE—I’m also a representative from this firm—or buttons +HELIOS—you just ask who Simon Yakovlevich Horizon is, and everyone will answer +you: ‘Simon Yakovlevich is not a man, but gold; this is a disinterested man, as +honest as a diamond.’” And Horizon was already unpacking long boxes with +patented suspenders, and was showing the glistening leaves of cardboard, +covered with regular rows of vari-coloured buttons. +</p> + +<p> +“There happen great unpleasantnesses, when the place has been worked out, when +a lot of travelling salesmen have appeared before you. Here you can’t do +anything; they absolutely won’t listen to you, only wave their arms. But that’s +only for others. I am Horizon! I can talk him over, the same like a camel from +a menagerie. But it happens still more unpleasant, when two competitors in one +and the same line come together in the same town. And it happens even worse +when it’s some chimney sweep and can’t do business himself and spoils business +for you too. Here you go to all sorts of tricks: let him drink till he’s drunk +or let him go off somewhere on a false track. Not an easy trade! Besides that, +I have one more line—that’s false eyes and teeth. But it ain’t a profitable +line. I want to drop it. And besides I’m thinking of leaving all this business. +I understand, it’s all right for a young man, in the bloom of his powers, to +flutter around like a moth, but once you have a wife, and may be a whole family +even ...” he playfully patted the woman on the knee, from which she became +scarlet and looked uncommonly better. “For the Lord has blessed us Jews with +fecundity for all our misfortunes ... Then you want to have some business of +your own, you want, you understand, to become settled in one place, so’s there +should be a shack of your own, and your own furniture, and your own bedroom, +and kitchen ... Isn’t that so, your excellency?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes ... Yes ... eh—eh ... Yes, of course, of course,” condescendingly +responded the general. +</p> + +<p> +“And so I took with Sarochka a little dowry. What do I mean, a little dowry? +Such money that Rothschild would not even want to look at it are in my hands a +whole capital already. But it must be said that there are some savings by me, +too. The firms I know will give me credit. If God grant it, we shall still eat +a piece of bread and a little butter—and on the Sabbaths the tasty GEFILTEH +FISCH.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s fine fish: pike the way the sheenies make it!” said the gasping +land-owner. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall open up for ourselves the firm of ‘Horizon and Son.’ Isn’t that true, +Sarochka—‘and Son?’ And you, I hope, will honour me with your esteemed orders? +When you see the sign, ‘Horizon and Son,’ then straight off recollect that you +once rode in a car together with a young man, who had grown as foolish as hell +from love and from happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ab-solutely!” said the land-owner. +</p> + +<p> +And Simon Yakovlevich at once turned to him: +</p> + +<p> +“But I also work by commission broking. To sell an estate, to buy an estate, to +arrange a second mortgage—you won’t find a better specialist than me, and such +a cheap one at that. I can be of service to you, should the need arise,” and he +extended his visiting card to the land-owner with a bow, and, by the way, +handed a card each to his two neighbours as well. +</p> + +<p> +The land-owner dived into a side pocket and also dragged out a card. +</p> + +<p> +“Joseph Ivanovich Vengjenovski,” Simon Yakovlevich read out loud. “Very, very +pleased! And so, should you need me ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not? It’s possible ...” said the land-owner meditatively. “Why, yes: +perhaps, indeed, a favourable chance has brought us together! Why, I’m just +journeying to K——about the sale of a certain forest country house. Suppose you +do that, then,—drop in to see me. I always stop at the Grand Hotel. Perhaps we +may be able to strike up a deal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I’m already almost sure, my dearest Joseph Ivanovich!” exclaimed the +rejoicing Horizon, and slightly, with the very tips of his fingers, patted +Vengjenovski’s kneecap carefully. “You just rest assured; if Horizon has +undertaken anything, then you’ll be thanking him like your own father, no more, +no less.” +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later Simon Yakovlevich and the smooth-faced sub-lieutenant were +standing on the platform of the car and smoking. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you often visit K——, mister sub-lieutenant?” asked Horizon. +</p> + +<p> +“Only for the first time—just imagine! Our regiment is stationed at Chernobob. +I was born in Moscow, myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“AI, AI, AI! How’d you come to get into such a faraway place?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it just fell out so. There was no other vacancy when I was let out.” +</p> + +<p> +“But then—Chernobob is a hole! The worst little town in all Podolia.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true, but it just fell out so.” +</p> + +<p> +“That means, then, that the young officer gent is going to K——to divert himself +a little?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I’m thinking of stopping there for two or three days. I’m travelling to +Moscow, really. I have received a two months’ leave, but it would be +interesting to look over the city on the way. It’s very beautiful, they say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what are you trying to tell me? A remarkable city! Well, absolutely a +European city. If you only knew, what streets, electricity, trolleys, theatres! +And if you only knew what cabarets! You’ll lick your own fingers. Positively, +positively, I advise you, young man, to pay a visit to the CHATEAU DES FLEURS, +to the Tivoli, and also to ride out to the island. That’s something special. +What women, wha-a-at women!” +</p> + +<p> +The lieutenant turned red, took his eyes away, and asked in a voice that +quavered: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ve happened to hear that. Is it possible that they’re really so +handsome?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oi! Strike me God! Believe me, there are no handsome women there at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“But—how’s that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, this way: there are only raving beauties there. You understand—what a +happy blending of bloods! Polish, Little Russian, and Hebrew. How I envy you, +young man, that you’re free and alone. In my time I sure would have shown +myself! And what’s most remarkable of all, they’re unusually passionate women! +Well, just like fire! And do you know something else?” he asked in a whisper of +great significance. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” asked the sub-lieutenant in a fright. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s remarkable, that nowheres, neither in Paris, nor in London—believe me, +this was told me by people who had seen the whole wide world—never, nowhere, +will you meet with such exquisite ways of making love as in this town. That’s +something especial, as us little Jews say. They think up such things that no +imagination can picture to itself. It’s enough to drive you crazy!” +</p> + +<p> +“But is that possible?” quietly spoke the sub-lieutenant, whose breath had been +cut off. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, strike me God! But permit me, young man, by the way! You understand +yourself. I was single, and of course, every man is liable to sin ... It’s +different now, of course. I’ve had myself written in with the invalids. But +from the former days a remarkable collection has remained to me. Just wait, +I’ll show it to you right away. Only, please, be as careful as possible in +looking at it.” +</p> + +<p> +Horizon with trepidation looked around to the right and left and extracted from +his pocket a long, narrow little box of morocco, in the style of those in which +playing cards are usually kept, and extended it to the sub-lieutenant. +</p> + +<p> +“Here you are, have a look. Only, I beg of you, be very careful.” +</p> + +<p> +The sub-lieutenant applied himself to picking out, one after the other, the +cards of plain and coloured photography, in which in all possible aspects was +depicted in the most beastly ways, in the most impossible positions, the +external side of love which at times makes man immeasurably lower and viler +than a baboon. Horizon would look over his shoulder, nudge him with his elbow, +and whisper: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, ain’t that swell, now? Why, this is genuine Parisian and Viennese +chic!” +</p> + +<p> +The sub-lieutenant looked through the whole collection from the beginning to +the end. When he was giving back the little box, his hand was shaking, his +temples and forehead were moist, his eyes had dimmed, and over his cheeks had +mantled a blush, mottled like marble. +</p> + +<p> +“But do you know what?” Horizon exclaimed gaily, all of a sudden. “It’s all the +same to me—the Indian sign has been put upon me. I, as they used to say in the +olden times, have burned my ships ... I have burned all that I used to adore +before. For a long time already I’ve been looking for an opportunity to pass +these cards on to some one. I ain’t especially chasing after a price. You wish +to acquire them, mister officer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now ... I,—that is ... Why not? ... Let’s ...” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s fine! On account of such a pleasant acquaintanceship, I’ll take fifty +kopecks apiece. What, is that expensive? Well, what’s the difference, God be +with you! I see you’re a travelling man, I don’t want to rob you; let it go at +thirty, then. What? That ain’t cheap either? Well, shake hands on it! +Twenty-five kopecks apiece. OI! What an intractable fellow you are! At twenty! +You’ll thank me yourself later! And then, do you know what else? When I come to +K—, I always stop at the Hotel Hermitage. You can very easily find me there +either very early in the morning, or about eight o’clock in the evening. I know +an awful lot of the finest little ladies. So I’ll introduce you. And, you +understand, not for money. Oh, no. It’s just simply nice and gay for them to +pass the time with a young, healthy, handsome man of your sort. There’s +absolutely no money of any kind necessary. And for that matter—they themselves +will willingly pay for wine, for a bottle of champagne! So remember then; The +Hermitage, Horizon. And if it isn’t that, remember it anyway! Maybe I can be of +use to you. And the cards are such a thing, such a thing, that it will never +lay on the shelf by you. Those who like that sort of thing give three roubles +for each specimen. But these, of course, are rich people, little old men. And +then, you know”—Horizon bent over to the officer’s very ear, winked one eye, +and pronounced in a sly whisper—“you know, many ladies adore these cards. Why, +you’re a young man, and handsome; how many romances you will have yet!” +</p> + +<p> +Having received the money and counted it over painstakingly, Horizon had the +brazenness to extend his hand in addition, and to shake the hand of the +sub-lieutenant, who did not dare to lift up his eyes to him; and, having left +him on the platform, went back into the passageway of the car, as though +nothing had happened. +</p> + +<p> +This was an unusually communicative man. On the way to his COUPE he came to a +stop before a beautiful little girl of three years, with whom he had for some +time been flirting at a distance and making all sorts of funny grimaces at. He +squatted down on his heels before her, began to imitate a nanny goat for her, +and questioned her in a lisping voice: +</p> + +<p> +“May I athk where the young lady ith going? OI, OI, OI! Thuch a big girl! +Travelling alone, without mamma? Bought a ticket all by herthelf and travelth +alone! AI! What a howwid girl! And where ith the girl’th mamma?” At this moment +a tall, handsome, self-assured woman appeared from the COUPE and said calmly: +</p> + +<p> +“Get away from the child. What a despicable thing to annoy strange children!” +</p> + +<p> +Horizon jumped up on his feet and began to bustle: +</p> + +<p> +“Madam! I could not restrain myself ... Such a wonderful, such a magnificent +and swell child! A regular cupid! You must understand, madam, I am a father +myself—I have children of my own ... I could not restrain myself from delight! +...” +</p> + +<p> +But the lady turned her back upon him, took the girl by the hand and went with +her into the COUPE, leaving Horizon shuffling his feet and muttering his +compliments and apologies. +</p> + +<p> +Several times during the twenty-four hours Horizon would go into the third +class, of two cars, separated from each other by almost the entire train. In +one care were sitting three handsome women, in the society of a black-bearded, +taciturn, morose man. Horizon and he would exchange strange phrases in some +special jargon. The women looked at him uneasily, as though wishing, yet not +daring, to ask him about something. Only once, toward noon, did one of them +allow herself to utter: +</p> + +<p> +“Then that’s the truth? That which you said about the place? ... You +understand—I’m somewhat uneasy at heart!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, what do you mean, Margarita Ivanovna? If I said it, then it’s right, just +like by the National Bank. Listen, Lazer,” he turned to him of the beard. +“There will be a station right away. Buy the girls all sorts of sandwiches, +whichever they may desire. The train stops here for twenty-five minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to have bouillon,” hesitatingly uttered a little blonde, with hair +like ripened rye, and with eyes like corn-flowers. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Bella, anything you please! At the station I’ll go and see that they +bring you bouillon with meat and even stuffed dumplings. Don’t you trouble +yourself, Lazer, I’ll do all that myself.” +</p> + +<p> +In another car he had a whole nursery garden of women, twelve or fifteen +people, under the leadership of an old, stout woman, with enormous, awesome, +black eyebrows. She spoke in a bass, while her fat chins, breasts, and stomachs +swayed under a broad morning dress in time to the shaking of the car, just like +apple jelly. Neither the old woman nor the young women left the least doubts as +to their profession. +</p> + +<p> +The women were lolling on the benches, smoking, playing cards—at +“sixty-six,”—drinking beer. Frequently the male public of the car provoked +them, and they swore back in unceremonious language, in hoarse voices. The +young people treated them with wine and cigarettes. +</p> + +<p> +Horizon was here altogether unrecognizable; he was majestically negligent and +condescendingly jocose. On the other hand, cringing ingratiation sounded in +every word addressed to him by his female clients. But he, having looked over +all of them—this strange mixture of Roumanians, Jewesses, Poles and +Russians—and having assured himself that all was in order, gave orders about +the sandwiches and majestically withdrew. At these moments he very much +resembled a drover, who is transporting by railroad cattle for slaughter, and +at a station drops in to look it over and to feed it. After that he would +return to his COUPE and again begin to toy with his wife, and Hebrew anecdotes +just poured from his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +At the long stops he would go out to the buffet only to see about his lady +clients. But he himself said to his neighbours: +</p> + +<p> +“You know, it’s all the same to me if it’s TREIF or KOSHER. I don’t recognize +any difference. But what can I do with my stomach! The devil knows what stuff +they’ll feed you sometimes at these stations. You’ll pay some three or four +roubles, and then you’ll spend a hundred roubles on the doctors curing +yourself. But maybe you, now, Sarochka”—he would turn to his wife—“maybe you’ll +get off at the station to eat something? Or shall I send it up to you here?” +</p> + +<p> +Sarochka, happy over his attention, would turn red, beam upon him with grateful +eyes, and refuse. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very kind, Senya, only I don’t want to. I’m full.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Horizon would reach out of a travelling hamper a chicken, boiled meat, +cucumbers, and a bottle of Palestine wine; have a snack, without hurrying, with +appetite; regale his wife, who ate very genteelly, sticking out the little +fingers of her magnificent white hands; then painstakingly wrap up the remnants +in paper and, without hurrying, lay them away accurately in the hamper. +</p> + +<p> +In the distance, far ahead of the locomotive, the cupolas and belfries were +already beginning to sparkle with fires of gold. Through the COUPE passed the +conductor and made some imperceptible sign to Horizon. He immediately followed +the conductor out to the platform. +</p> + +<p> +“The inspector will pass through right away,” said the conductor, “so you’ll +please be so kind as to stand for a while here on the platform of the third +class with your spouse.” +</p> + +<p> +“NU, NU, NU!” concurred Horizon. +</p> + +<p> +“And the money as agreed, if you please.” +</p> + +<p> +“How much is coming to you, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, just as we agreed; half the extra charge, two roubles eighty kopecks.” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” Horizon suddenly boiled over. “Two roubles eighty kopecks? You think +you got it a crazy one in me, what? Here’s a rouble for you and thank God for +that!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, sir. This is even absurd—didn’t you and I agree?” +</p> + +<p> +“Agree, agree! ... Here’s a half more, and not a thing besides. What impudence! +I’ll tell the inspector yet that you carry people without tickets. Don’t you +think it, brother—you ain’t found one of that sort here!” +</p> + +<p> +The conductor’s eyes suddenly widened, became blood-shot. +</p> + +<p> +“O-oh! You sheeny!” he began to roar. “I ought to take a skunk like you and +under the train with you!” +</p> + +<p> +But Horizon at once flew at him like a cock. +</p> + +<p> +“What? Under the train? But do you know what’s done for words like that? A +threat by action! Here, I’ll go right away and will yell ‘help!’ and will turn +the signal handle,” and he seized the door-knob with such an air of resolution +that the conductor just made a gesture of despair with his hand and spat. +</p> + +<p> +“May you choke with my money, you mangy sheeny!” +</p> + +<p> +Horizon called his wife out of the COUPE: +</p> + +<p> +“Sarochka! Let’s go out on the platform for a look; one can see better there. +Well, it’s so beautiful—just like on a picture!” +</p> + +<p> +Sarah obediently went after him, holding up with an unskilled hand the new +dress, in all probability put on for the first time, bending out and as though +afraid of touching the door or the wall. +</p> + +<p> +In the distance, in the rosy gala haze of the evening glow, shone the golden +cupolas and crosses. High up on the hill the white, graceful churches seemed to +float in this flowery, magic mirage. Curly woods and coppices had run down from +above and had pushed on over the very ravine. And the sheer, white precipice +which bathed its foot in the blue river, was all furrowed over with occasional +young woods, just like green little veins and warts. Beautiful as in a fairy +tale, the ancient town appeared as though it were itself coming to meet the +train. +</p> + +<p> +When the train stopped, Horizon ordered three porters to carry the things into +the first class, and told his wife to follow him. But he himself lingered at +the exit in order to let through both his parties. To the old woman looking +after the dozen women he threw briefly in passing: +</p> + +<p> +“So remember, madam Berman! Hotel America, Ivanukovskaya, twenty-two!” +</p> + +<p> +While to the black-bearded man he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t forget, Lazer, to feed the girls at dinner and to bring them somewhere +to a movie show. About eleven o’clock at night wait for me. I’ll come for a +talk. But if some one will be calling for me extra, then you know my +address—The Hermitage. Ring me up. But if I’m not there for some reason, then +run into Reiman’s cafe, or opposite, into the Hebrew dining room. I’ll be +eating GEFILTEH FISCH there. Well, a lucky journey!” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0203"></a> CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p> +All the stories of Horizon about his commercial travelling were simply brazen +and glib lying. All the samples of drapers’ goods, suspenders gloire and +buttons helios, the artificial teeth and insertible eyes, served only as a +shield, screening his real activity—to wit, the traffic in the body of woman. +True, at one time, some ten years ago, he had travelled over Russia as the +representative for the dubious wines of some unknown firm; and this activity +had imparted to his tongue that free-and-easy unconstraint for which, in +general, travelling salesmen are distinguished. This former activity had, as +well, brought him up against his real profession. In some way, while going to +Rostov-on-the-Don, he had contrived to make a very young sempstress fall in +love with him. This girl had not as yet succeeded in getting on the official +lists of the police, but upon love and her body she looked without any lofty +prejudices. Horizon, at that time altogether a green youth, amorous and +light-minded, dragged the sempstress after him on his wanderings, full of +adventures and unexpected things. After half a year she palled upon him +dreadfully. She, just like a heavy burden, like a millstone, hung around the +neck of this man of energy, motion and aggressiveness. In addition to that, +there were the eternal scenes of jealousy, mistrust, the constant control and +tears ... the inevitable consequences of long living together ... Then he began +little by little to beat his mate. At the first time she was amazed, but from +the second time quieted down, became tractable. It is known, that “women of +love” never know a mean in love relations. They are either hysterical liars, +deceivers, dissemblers, with a coolly-perverted mind and a sinuous dark soul; +or else unboundedly self-denying, blindly devoted, foolish, naive animals, who +know no bounds either in concessions or loss of self-esteem. The sempstress +belonged to the second category, and Horizon was soon successful, without great +effort, in persuading her to go out on the street to traffic in herself. And +from that very evening, when his mistress submitted to him and brought home the +first five roubles earned, Horizon experienced an unbounded loathing toward +her. It is remarkable, that no matter how many women Horizon met after this—and +several hundred of them had passed through his hands—this feeling of loathing +and masculine contempt toward them would never forsake him. He derided the poor +woman in every way, and tortured her morally, seeking out the most painful +spots. She would only keep silent, sigh, weep, and getting down on her knees +before him, kiss his hands. And this wordless submission irritated Horizon +still more. He drove her away from him. She would not go away. He would push +her out into the street; but she, after an hour or two, would come back +shivering from cold, in a soaked hat, in the turned-up brims of which the +rain-water splashed as in waterspouts. Finally, some shady friend gave Simon +Yakovlevich the harsh and crafty counsel which laid a mark on all the rest of +his life activity—to sell his mistress into a brothel. To tell the truth, in +going into this enterprise, Horizon almost disbelieved at soul in its success. +But contrary to his expectation, the business could not have adjusted itself +better. The proprietress of an establishment (this was in Kharkov) willingly +met his proposition half-way. She had known long and well Simon Yakovlevich, +who played amusingly on the piano, danced splendidly, and set the whole drawing +room laughing with his pranks; but chiefly, could, with unusually unabashed +dexterity, make any carousing party “shell out the coin.” It only remained to +convince the mate of his life, and this proved the most difficult of all. She +did not want to detach herself from her beloved for anything; threatened +suicide, swore that she would burn his eyes out with sulphuric acid, promised +to go and complain to the chief of police—and she really did know a few dirty +little transactions of Simon Yakovlevich’s that smacked of capital punishment. +Thereupon Horizon changed his tactics. He suddenly became a tender, attentive +friend, an indefatigable lover. Then suddenly he fell into black melancholy. +The uneasy questionings of the woman he let pass in silence; at first let drop +a word as though by chance; hinted in passing at some mistake of his life; and +then began to lie desperately and with inspiration. He said that the police +were watching him; that he could not get by the jail, and, perhaps, even hard +labour and the gallows; that it was necessary for him to disappear abroad for +several months. But mainly, what he persisted in especially strongly, was some +tremendous fantastic business, in which he stood to make several hundred +thousands of roubles. The sempstress believed and became alarmed with that +disinterested, womanly, almost holy alarm, in which, with every woman, there is +so much of something maternal. It was not at all difficult now to convince her +that for Horizon to travel together with her presented a great danger for him; +and that it would be better for her to remain here and to bide the time until +the affairs of her lover would adjust themselves fortuitously. After that to +talk her into hiding, as in the most trustworthy retreat, in a brothel, where +she would be in full safety from the police and the detectives, was a mere +nothing. One morning Horizon ordered her to dress a little better, curl her +hair, powder herself, put a little rouge on her cheeks, and carried her off to +a den, to his acquaintance. The girl made a favourable impression there, and +that same day her passport was changed by the police to a so-called yellow +ticket. Having parted with her, after long embraces and tears, Horizon went +into the room of the proprietress and received his payment, fifty roubles +(although he had asked for two hundred). But he did not grieve especially over +the low price; the main thing was, that he had found his calling at last, all +by himself, and had laid the cornerstone of his future welfare. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, the woman sold by him just remained forever so in the tenacious +hands of the brothel. Horizon forgot her so thoroughly that after only a year +he could not even recall her face. But who knows ... perhaps he merely +pretended? +</p> + +<p> +Now he was one of the chief speculators in the body of woman in all the south +of Russia. He had transactions with Constantinople and with Argentine; he +transported, in whole parties, girls from the brothels of Odessa into Kiev; +those from Kiev he brought over into Kharkov; and those from Kharkov into +Odessa. He it was also who stuck away over second rate capital cities, and +those districts which were somewhat richer, the goods which had been rejected +or had grown too noticeable in the big cities. He had struck up an enormous +clientele, and in the number of his consumers Horizon could have counted not a +few people with a prominent social position: lieutenant governors, colonels of +the gendarmerie, eminent advocates, well-known doctors, rich land-owners, +carousing merchants. All the shady world—the proprietresses of brothels, +cocottes solitaires, go-betweens, madams of houses of assignation, souteneurs, +touring actresses and chorus girls—was as familiar to him as the starry sky to +an astronomer. His amazing memory, which permitted him prudently to avoid +notebooks, held in mind thousands of names, family names, nicknames, addresses, +characteristics. He knew to perfection the tastes of all his highly placed +consumers: some of them liked unusually odd depravity, others paid mad sums for +innocent girls, for others still it was necessary to seek out girls below age. +He had to satisfy both the sadistic and the masochistic inclinations of his +clients, and at times to cater to altogether unnatural sexual perversions, +although it must be said that the last he undertook only in rare instances +which promised a large, undoubted profit. Two or three times he had to sit in +jail, but these sessions went to his benefit; he not only did not lose his +rapacious high-handedness and springy energy in his transactions, but with +every year became more daring, inventive, and enterprising. With the years to +his brazen impetuousness was joined a tremendous worldly business wisdom. +</p> + +<p> +Fifteen times, during this period, he had managed to marry and every time had +contrived to take a decent dowry. Having possessed himself of his wife’s money, +he, one fine day, would suddenly vanish without a trace, and, if there was a +possibility, he would sell his wife profitably into a secret house of depravity +or into a chic public establishment. It would happen that the parents of the +deluded victim would search for him through the police. But while inquiries +would be carried on everywhere about him as Shperling, he would already be +travelling from town to town under the name of Rosenblum. During the time of +his activity, in despite of an enviable memory, he had changed so many names +that he had not only forgotten what year he had been Nathanielson, and during +what Bakalyar, but even his own name was beginning to seem to him one of his +pseudonyms. +</p> + +<p> +It was remarkable, that he did not find in his profession anything criminal or +reprehensible. He regarded it just as though he were trading in herrings, lime, +flour, beef or lumber. In his own fashion he was pious. If time permitted, he +would with assiduity visit the synagogue of Fridays. The Day of Atonement, +Passover, and the Feast of the Tabernacles were invariably and reverently +observed by him everywhere wherever fate might have cast him. His mother, a +little old woman, and a hunch-backed sister, were left to him in Odessa, and he +undeviatingly sent them now large, now small sums of money, not regularly but +pretty frequently, from all towns from Kursk to Odessa and from Warsaw to +Samara. Considerable savings of money had already accumulated to him in the +Credit Lyonnaise, and he gradually increased them, never touching the interest. +But to greed or avarice he was almost a stranger. He was attracted to the +business rather by its tang, risk and a professional self-conceit. To the women +he was perfectly indifferent, although he understood and could value them, and +in this respect resembled a good chef, who together with a fine understanding +of the business, suffers from a chronic absence of appetite. To induce, to +entice a woman, to compel her to do all that he wanted, did not require any +efforts on his part; they came of themselves to his call and became in his +hands passive, obedient and yielding. In his treatment of them a certain firm, +unshakable, self-assured aplomb had been worked out, to which they submitted +just as a refractory horse submits instinctively to the voice, glance, stroking +of an experienced horseman. +</p> + +<p> +He drank very moderately, and without company never drank. Toward eating he was +altogether indifferent. But, of course, as with every man, he had a little +weakness of his own: he was inordinately fond of dress and spent no little +money on his toilet. Modish collars of all possible fashions, cravats, diamond +cuff links, watch charms, the underwear of a dandy, and chic footwear +constituted his main distractions. +</p> + +<p> +From the depot he went straight to The Hermitage. The hotel porters, in blue +blouses and uniform caps, carried his things into the vestibule. Following +them, he too entered, arm in arm with his wife; both smartly attired, imposing, +but he just simply magnificent, in his wide, bell-shaped English overcoat, in a +new broad-brimmed panama, holding negligently in his hand a small cane with a +silver handle in the form of a naked woman. +</p> + +<p> +“You ain’t supposed to be here without a permit for your residence,” said an +enormous, stout doorkeeper, looking down upon him from above and preserving on +his face a sleepy and immovably-frigid expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Ach, Zachar! Again ‘you ain’t supposed to!’” merrily exclaimed Horizon, and +patted the giant on his shoulder. “What does it mean, ‘you ain’t supposed to’? +Every time you shove this same ‘you ain’t supposed to’ at me. I must be here +for three days in all. Soon as I conclude the rent agreement with Count +Ipatiev, right away I go away. God be with you! Live even all by yourself in +all your rooms. But you just give a look, Zachar, what a toy I brought you from +Odessa! You’ll be just tickled with it!” +</p> + +<p> +With a careful, deft, accustomed movement he thrust a gold piece into the +doorkeeper’s hand, who was already holding it behind his back, ready and folded +in the form of a little boat. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing that Horizon did upon installing himself in the large, spacious +room with an alcove, was to put out into the corridor at the door of the room +six pairs of magnificent shoes, saying to the bell-hop who ran up in answer to +the bell: +</p> + +<p> +“Immediately all should be cleaned! So it should shine like a mirror! They call +you Timothy, I think? Then you should know me—if you work by me it will never +go for nothing. So it should shine like a mirror!” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0204"></a> CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<p> +Horizon lived at the Hotel Hermitage for not more than three days and nights, +and during this time he managed to see some three hundred people. His arrival +seemed to enliven the big, gay port city. To him came the keepers of employment +offices for servants, the proprietresses of cheap hotels, and old, experienced +go-betweens, grown gray in the trade in women. Not so much out of an interest +in booty as out of professional pride, Horizon tried, at all costs, to bargain +for as much profit as possible, to buy a woman as cheaply as possible. Of +course, to receive ten, fifteen roubles more was not the reason for him, but +the mere thought that competitor Yampolsky would receive at the sale more than +he brought him into a frenzy. +</p> + +<p> +After his arrival, the next day, he set off to Mezer the photographer, taking +with him the straw-like girl Bella, and had pictures taken in various poses +together with her; at which for every negative he received three roubles, while +he gave the woman a rouble. After that he rode off to Barsukova. +</p> + +<p> +This was a woman, or, speaking more correctly, a retired wench, whose like can +be found only in the south of Russia; neither a Pole nor a Little Russian; +already sufficiently old and rich in order to allow herself the luxury of +maintaining a husband (and together with him a cabaret), a handsome and kindly +little Pole. Horizon and Barsukova met like old friends. They had, it seemed, +no fear, no shame, no conscience when they conversed with each other. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam Barsukova! I can offer you something special! Three women: one a large +brunette, very modest; another a little one, a blonde, but who, you understand, +is ready for everything; the third is a woman of mystery, who merely smiles and +doesn’t say anything, but promises much and is a beauty!” +</p> + +<p> +Madam Barsukova was gazing at him with mistrust, shaking her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Mister Horizon! What are you trying to fill my head with? Do you want to do +the same with me that you did last time?” +</p> + +<p> +“By God, I should live so, how I want to deceive you! But that’s not the main +thing. I’m also offering you a perfectly educated woman. Do with her what you +like. In all probability you’ll find a connoisseur.” +</p> + +<p> +Barsukova smiled artfully and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Again a wife?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. But she’s of the nobility.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that means unpleasantnesses with the police again?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ach! My God! I don’t take big money from you; all the three for a lousy +thousand roubles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, let’s talk frankly; five hundred. I don’t want to buy a cat in a bag.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems, Madam Barsukova, that it isn’t the first time you and I have done +business together, I won’t deceive you and will bring her here right away. Only +I beg you not to forget that you’re my aunt, and please work in that direction. +I won’t be more than three days here in the city.” +</p> + +<p> +Madam Barsukova, with all her breasts, bellies and chins, began to sway +merrily. +</p> + +<p> +“We won’t dicker over trifles. All the more so since you don’t deceive me, nor +I you. There’s a great demand for women now. What would you say, Mister +Horizon, if I offered you some red wine?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Madam Barsukova, with pleasure.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s talk a while like old friends. Tell me, how much do you make a year?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ach, madam, what shall I say? Twelve, twenty thousand, approximately. But +think what tremendous expenses there are in constantly travelling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you put away a little?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s trifles; some two or three thousand a year.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought ten, twenty ...” +</p> + +<p> +Horizon grew wary. He sensed that he was beginning to be drawn out and asked +insidiously: +</p> + +<p> +“But why does this interest you?” +</p> + +<p> +Anna Michailovna pressed the button of an electric bell and ordered the dressy +maid to bring coffee with steamed cream and a bottle of Chambertaine. She knew +the tastes of Horizon. Then she asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know Mr. Shepsherovich?” +</p> + +<p> +Horizon simply pounced upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“My God! Who don’t know Shepsherovich! This is a god, this is a genius!” +</p> + +<p> +And, having become animated, forgetting that he was being dragged into a trap, +he began speaking exaltedly: +</p> + +<p> +“Just imagine what Shepsherovich did last year! He carried to Argentine thirty +women from Kovno, Vilno, Zhitomir. Each one of them he sold at a thousand +roubles—a total, madam—count it—of thirty thousand! Do you think Shepsherovich +calmed down with this? For this money, in order to repay his expenses on the +steamer, he bought several negresses and stuck them about in Moscow, +Petersburg, Kiev, Odessa, and Kharkov. But, you know, madam, this isn’t a man, +but an eagle. There’s a man who can do business!” +</p> + +<p> +Barsukova caressingly laid her hand on his knee. She had been waiting for this +moment and said to him amicably: +</p> + +<p> +“And so I propose to you, Mr.——however, I don’t know how you are called now...” +</p> + +<p> +“Horizon, let’s say...” +</p> + +<p> +“So I propose to you, Mr. Horizon—could you find some innocent girls among +yours? There’s an enormous demand for them now. I’m playing an open hand with +you. We won’t stop at money. Now it’s in fashion. Notice, Horizon, your lady +clients will be returned to you in exactly the same state in which they were. +This, you understand, is a little depravity, which I can in no way make out...” +</p> + +<p> +Horizon cast down his eyes, rubbed his head, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“You see, I’ve a wife ... You’ve almost guessed it.” +</p> + +<p> +“So. But why almost?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m ashamed to confess, that she—how shall I say it ... she is my bride ...” +</p> + +<p> +Barsukova gaily burst into laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“You know, Horizon, I couldn’t at all expect that you’re such a nasty villain! +Let’s have your wife, it’s all the same. But is it possible that you’ve really +refrained?” +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand?” asked Horizon seriously. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! What trifles; a thousand let’s say. But tell me, will I be able to manage +her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense!” said Horizon self-assuredly. “Let’s again suppose that you’re my +aunt, and I leave my wife with you. Just imagine, Madam Barsukova, that this +woman is in love with me like a cat. And if you’ll tell her, that for my good +she must do so and so and thus and thus—then there won’t be no arguments!” +</p> + +<p> +Apparently, there was nothing more for them to talk over. Madam Barsukova +brought out a promissory note, whereon she with difficulty wrote her name, her +father’s name, and her last name. The promissory note, of course, was +fantastic; but there is a tie, a welding, an honour among thieves. In such +deals people do not deceive. Death threatens otherwise. It is all the same, +whether in prison, or on the street, or in a brothel. +</p> + +<p> +Right after that, just like an apparition out of a trapdoor, appeared the +friend of her heart, the master of the cabaret, a young little Pole, with +moustaches twirled high. They drank some wine, talked a bit about the fair, +about the exposition, complained a little about bad business. After that +Horizon telephoned to his room in the hotel, and called out his wife. He +introduced her to his aunt and his aunt’s second cousin, and said that +mysterious political reasons were calling him out of town. He tenderly kissed +Sarah, shed a tear, and rode away. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0205"></a> CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<p> +With the arrival of Horizon (however, God knows how he was called: Gogolevich, +Gidalevich, Okunev, Rosmitalsky), in a word, with the arrival of this man +everything changed on Yamskaya Street. Enormous shufflings commenced. From +Treppel girls were transferred to Anna Markovna, from Anna Markovna into a +rouble establishment, and from the rouble establishment into a half-rouble one. +There were no promotions: only demotions. At each change of place Horizon +earned from five to a hundred roubles. Verily, he was possessed of an energy +equal, approximately, to the waterfall of Imatra! Sitting in the daytime at +Anna Markovna’s, he was saying, squinting from the smoke of the cigarette, and +swinging one leg crossed over the other: +</p> + +<p> +“The question is ... What do you need this same Sonka for? It’s no place for +her in a decent establishment. If we’ll float her down the stream, then you’ll +make a hundred roubles for yourself, I twenty-five for myself. Tell me frankly, +she isn’t in demand, is she, now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Mr. Shatzky! You can always talk a person over! But just imagine, I’m +sorry for her. Such a nice girl ...” +</p> + +<p> +Horizon pondered for a moment. He was seeking an appropriate citation and +suddenly let out: +</p> + +<p> +“‘Give the falling a shove!’[11] And I’m convinced, Madam Shaibes, that there’s +no demand of any sort for her.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[11] Horizon is quoting a Nietzscheism of Gorky’s.—TRANS. +</p> + +<p> +Isaiah Savvich, a little, sickly, touchy old man, but in moments of need very +determined, supported Horizon: +</p> + +<p> +“And that’s very simple. There is really no demand of any sort for her. Think +it over for yourself, Annechka; her outfit costs fifty roubles, Mr. Shatzky +will receive twenty-five roubles, fifty roubles will be left for you and me. +And, glory be to God, we have done with her! At least, she won’t be +compromising our establishment.” +</p> + +<p> +In such a way Sonka the Rudder, avoiding a rouble establishment, was +transferred into a half-rouble one, where all kinds of riff-raff made sport of +the girls at their own sweet will, whole nights through. There tremendous +health and great nervous force were requisite. Sonka once began shivering from +terror, in the night, when Thekla, a mountain of a woman of some two hundred +pounds, jumped out into the yard to fulfill a need of nature, and cried out to +the housekeeper who was passing by her: +</p> + +<p> +“Housekeeper, dear! Listen—the thirty-sixth man! ... Don’t forget!” +</p> + +<p> +Fortunately, Sonka was not disturbed much; even in this establishment she was +too homely. No one paid any attention to her splendid eyes, and they took her +only in those instances when there was no other at hand. The pharmacist sought +her out and came every evening to her. But cowardice, or a special Hebrew +fastidiousness, or, perhaps, even physical aversion, would not permit him to +take the girl and carry her away with him from the house. He would sit whole +nights through near her, and, as of yore, patiently waited until she would +return from a chance guest; created scenes of jealousy for her and yet loved +her still, and, sticking in the daytime behind the counter in his drug store +and rolling some stinking pills or other, ceaselessly thought of her and +yearned. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0206"></a> CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<p> +Immediately at the entrance to a suburban cabaret an artificial flower bed +shone with vari-colored lights, with electric bulbs instead of flowers; and +just such another fiery alley of wide, half-round arches, narrowing toward the +end, led away from it into the depths of the garden. Further on was a broad, +small square, strewn with yellow sand; to the left an open stage, a theatre, +and a shooting gallery; straight ahead a stand for the military band (in the +form of a seashell) and little booths with flowers and beer; to the right the +long terrace of the restaurant. Electric globes from their high masts +illuminated the small square with a pale, dead-white brightness. Against their +frosted glass, with wire nets stretched over them, beat clouds of night moths, +whose shadows—confused and large—hovered below, on the ground. Hungry women, +too lightly, dressily, and fancifully attired, preserving on their faces an +expression of care-free merriment or haughty, offended unapproachability, +strolled back and forth in pairs, with a walk already tired and dragging. +</p> + +<p> +All the tables in the restaurant were taken—and over them floated the +continuous noise of knives upon plates and a motley babel, galloping in waves. +It smelt of rich and pungent kitchen fumes. In the middle of the restaurant, +upon a stand, Roumanians in red frocks were playing; all swarthy, +white-toothed, with the faces of whiskered, pomaded apes, with their hair +licked down. The director of the orchestra, bending forward and affectedly +swaying, was playing upon a violin and making unseemly sweet eyes at the +public—the eyes of a man-prostitute. And everything together—this abundance of +tiresome electric lights, the exaggeratedly bright toilettes of the ladies, the +odours of modish, spicy perfumes, this ringing music, with willful slowings up +of the tempo, with voluptuous swoonings in the transitions, with the +tempestuous passages screwed up—everything fitted the one to the other, forming +a general picture of insane and stupid luxury, a setting for an imitation of a +gay, unseemly carouse. +</p> + +<p> +Above, around the entire hall, ran open galleries, upon which, as upon little +balconies, opened the doors of the private cabinets. In one of these cabinets +four were sitting—two ladies and two men; an artiste known to all Russia, the +cantatrice Rovinskaya, a large, handsome woman, with long, green, Egyptian +eyes, and a long, red, sensuous mouth, the lips of which were rapaciously +drooping at the corners; the baroness Tefting, little, exquisite, pale—she was +everywhere seen with the artiste; the famous lawyer Ryazanov; and Volodya +Chaplinsky, a rich young man of the world, a composer-dilettante, the author of +several darling little ballads and many witticisms upon the topics of the day, +which circulated all over town. +</p> + +<p> +The walls of the cabinet were red, with a gold design. On the table, among the +lighted candelabra, two white, tarred necks of bottles stuck up out of an +electroplated vase, which had sweated from the cold, and the light in a tenuous +gold played in the shallow goblets of wine. Outside, near the doors, a waiter +was on duty, leaning against the wall; while the stout, tall, important maitre +d’hotel, on whose right little finger, always sticking out, sparkled a huge +diamond, would frequently stop at these doors, and attentively listen with one +ear to what was going on in the cabinet. +</p> + +<p> +The baroness, with a bored, pale face, was listlessly gazing through a +lorgnette down at the droning, chewing, swarming crowd. Among the red, white, +blue and straw-coloured feminine dresses the uniform figures of the men +resembled large, squat, black beetles. Rovinskaya negligently, yet at the same +time intently as well, was looking down upon the stand and the spectators, and +her face expressed fatigue, ennui, and perhaps also that satiation with all +spectacles, which are such matters of course to celebrities. The splendid, +long, slender fingers of her left hand were lying upon the crimson velvet of +the box-seat. Emeralds of a rare beauty hung upon them so negligently that it +seemed as though they would fall off at any second, and suddenly she began +laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Look” she said; “what a funny figure, or, to put it more correctly, what a +funny profession! There, there, that one who’s playing on a ‘syrinx of seven +reeds.’” +</p> + +<p> +Everyone looked in the direction of her hand. And really, the picture was funny +enough. Behind the Roumanian orchestra was sitting a stout, whiskered man, +probably the father, and perhaps even the grandfather, of a numerous family, +and with all his might was whistling into seven little pipes glued together. As +it was difficult for him, probably, to move this instrument between his lips, +he therefore, with an unusual rapidity, turned his head now to the left, now to +the right. +</p> + +<p> +“An amazing occupation,” said Rovinskaya. “Well now, Chaplinsky, you try to +toss your head about like that.” +</p> + +<p> +Volodya Chaplinsky, secretly and hopelessly in love with the artiste, +immediately began obediently and zealously to do this, but after half a minute +desisted. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s impossible,” he said, “either long training, or, perhaps, hereditary +abilities, are necessary for this.” +</p> + +<p> +The baroness during this time was tearing away the petals of her rose and +throwing them into a goblet; then, with difficulty suppressing a yawn, she +said, making just the least bit of a wry face: +</p> + +<p> +“But, my God, how drearily they divert themselves in our K—! Look: no laughter, +no singing, no dances. Just like some herd that’s been driven here, in order to +be gay on purpose!” +</p> + +<p> +Ryazanov listlessly took his goblet, sipped it a little, and answered +apathetically in his enchanting voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and is it any gayer in your Paris, or Nice? Why, it must be +confessed—mirth, youth and laughter have vanished forever out of human life, +and it is scarcely possible that they will ever return. One must regard people +with more patience, it seems to me. Who knows, perhaps for all those sitting +here, below, the present evening is a rest, a holiday?” +</p> + +<p> +“The speech for the defense,” put in Chaplinsky in his calm manner. +</p> + +<p> +But Rovinskaya quickly turned around to the men, and her long emerald eyes +narrowed. And this with her served as a sign of wrath, from which even crowned +personages committed follies at times. However, she immediately restrained +herself and continued languidly: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand what you are talking about. I don’t understand even what we +came here for. For there are no longer any spectacles in the world. Now I, for +instance, have seen bull-fights in Seville, Madrid and Marseilles—an exhibition +which does not evoke anything save loathing. I have also seen boxing and +wrestling nastiness and brutality. I also happened to participate in a tiger +hunt, at which I sat under a baldachin on the back of a big, wise white +elephant ... in a word, you all know this well yourselves. And out of all my +great, chequered, noisy life, from which I have grown old ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what are you saying, Ellena Victorovna!” said Chaplinsky with a tender +reproach. +</p> + +<p> +“Abandon compliments, Volodya! I know myself that I’m still young and beautiful +of body, but, really, it seems to me at times that I am ninety. So worn out has +my soul become. I continue. I say, that during all my life only three strong +impressions have sunk into my soul. The first, while still a girl, when I saw a +cat stealing upon a cock-sparrow, and I with horror and with interest watched +its movements and the vigilant gaze of the bird. Up to this time I don’t know +myself which I sympathized with more: the skill of the cat or the slipperiness +of the sparrow. The cock-sparrow proved the quicker. In a moment he flew up on +a tree and began from there to pour down upon the cat such sparrow swearing +that I would have turned red for shame if I had understood even one word. While +the cat, as though it had been wronged, stuck up its tail like a chimney and +tried to pretend to itself that nothing out of the way had taken place. Another +time I had to sing in an opera a duet with a certain great artist ...” +</p> + +<p> +“With whom?” asked the baroness quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it all the same? Of what need names? And so, when he and I were singing, +I felt all of me in the sway of genius. How wonderfully, into what a marvelous +harmony, did our voices blend! Ah! It is impossible to describe this +impression. Probably, it happens but once in a lifetime. According to the role, +I had to weep, and I wept with sincere, genuine tears. And when, after the +curtain, he walked up to me and patted my hair with his big warm hand and with +his enchanting, radiant smile said, ‘Splendid! for the first time in my life +have I sung so’ ... and so I—and I am a very proud being—I kissed his hand. And +the tears were still standing in my eyes ...” +</p> + +<p> +“And the third?” asked the baroness, and her eyes lit up with the evil sparks +of jealousy. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, the third,” answered the artiste sadly, “the third is as simple as simple +can be. During the last season I lived at Nice, and so I saw Carmen on the open +stage at Frejus with the anticipation of Cecile Ketten, who is now,” the +artiste earnestly made the sign of the cross, “dead—I don’t really know, +fortunately or unfortunately for herself?” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly, in a moment, her magnificent eyes filled with tears and began to +shine with a magic green light, such as the evening star gives forth, on warm +summer twilights. She turned her face around to the stage, and for some time +her long, nervous fingers convulsively squeezed the upholstery of the barrier +of the box. But when she again turned around to her friends, her eyes were +already dry, and the enigmatic, vicious and wilful lips were resplendent with +an unconstrained smile. +</p> + +<p> +Then Ryazanov asked her politely, in a tender but purposely calm tone: +</p> + +<p> +“But then, Ellena Victorovna, your tremendous fame, admirers, the roar of the +mob ... finally, that delight which you afford to your spectators. Is it +possible that even this does not titillate your nerves?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Ryazanov,” she answered in a tired voice. “You know no less than myself +what this is worth. A brazen interviewer, who needs passes for his friends, +and, by the way, twenty-five roubles in an envelope. High school boys and +girls, students and young ladies attending courses, who beg you for autographed +photographs. Some old blockhead with a general’s rank, who hums loudly with me +during my aria. The eternal whisper behind you, when you pass by: ‘there she +is, that same famous one!’ Anonymous letters, the brazenness of back-stage +habitues ... why, you can’t enumerate everything! But surely, you yourself are +often beset by female psychopathics of the court-room?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Ryazanov decisively. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s all there is to it. But add to that the most terrible thing, that every +time I have come to feel a genuine inspiration, I tormentingly feel on the spot +the consciousness that I’m pretending and grimacing before people ... And the +fear of the success of your rival? And the eternal dread of losing your voice, +of straining it or catching a cold? The eternal tormenting bother of throat +bandages? No, really, it is heavy to bear renown on one’s shoulders.” +</p> + +<p> +“But the artistic fame?” retorted the lawyer. “The might of genius! This, +verily, is a true moral might, which is above the might of any king on earth!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, of course you’re right, my dear. But fame, celebrity, are sweet only +at a distance, when you only dream about them. But when you have attained them +you feel only their thorns. But then, with what anguish you feel every dram of +their decrease. And I have forgotten to say something else. Why, we artists +undergo a sentence at hard labour. In the morning, exercises; in the daytime, +rehearsals; and then there’s scarcely time for dinner and you’re due for the +performance. An hour or so for reading or such diversion as you and I are +having now, may be snatched only by a miracle. And even so... the diversion is +altogether of the mediocre...” +</p> + +<p> +She negligently and wearily made a slight gesture with the fingers of the hand +lying on the barrier. +</p> + +<p> +Volodya Chaplinsky, agitated by this conversation, suddenly asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but tell me, Ellena Victorovna, what would you want to distract your +imagination and ennui?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him with her enigmatic eyes and answered quietly, even a trifle +shyly, it seemed: +</p> + +<p> +“Formerly, people lived more gaily and did not know prejudices of any sort. +Well, it seems to me that then I would have been in my place and would have +lived with a full life. O, ancient Rome!” +</p> + +<p> +No one understood her, save Ryazanov, who, without looking at her, slowly +pronounced in his velvety voice, like that of an actor, the classical, +universally familiar, Latin phrase: +</p> + +<p> +“Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutant!” +</p> + +<p> +“Precisely! I love you very much, Ryazanov, because you are a clever child. You +will always catch a thought in its flight; although, I must say, that this +isn’t an especially high property of the mind. And really, two beings come +together, the friends of yesterday, who had conversed with each other and eaten +at the same table, and this day one of them must perish. You understand depart +from life forever. But they have neither malice nor fear. There is the most +real, magnificent spectacle, which I can only picture to myself!” +</p> + +<p> +“How much cruelty there is in you,” said the baroness meditatively. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, nothing can be done about it now! My ancestors were cavaliers and +robbers. However, shan’t we go away now?” +</p> + +<p> +They all went out of the garden. Volodya Chaplinsky ordered his automobile +called. Ellena Victorovna was leaning upon his arm. And suddenly she asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Volodya, where do you usually go when you take leave of so-called +decent women?” +</p> + +<p> +Volodya hemmed and hawed. However, he knew positively that he could not lie to +Rovinskaya. +</p> + +<p> +“M-m-m ... I’m afraid of offending your hearing. To the Tzigani, for instance +... to night cabarets ...” +</p> + +<p> +“And somewhere else? Worse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, you put me in an awkward position. From the time that I’ve become so +madly in love with you ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Leave out the romancing!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, how shall I say it?” murmured Volodya, feeling that he was turning red, +not only in the face, but with his body, his back. “Well, of course, to the +women. Now, of course, this does not occur with me personally ...” +</p> + +<p> +Rovinskaya maliciously pressed Chaplinsky’s elbow to her side. +</p> + +<p> +“To a brothel?” +</p> + +<p> +Volodya did not answer anything. Then she said: +</p> + +<p> +“And so, you’ll carry us at once over there in the automobile and acquaint us +with this existence, which is foreign to me. But remember, that I rely upon +your protection.” +</p> + +<p> +The remaining two agreed to this, unwillingly, in all probability; but there +was no possibility of opposing Ellena Victorovna. She always did everything +that she wanted to. And then they had all heard and knew that in Petersburg +carousing worldly ladies, and even girls, permit themselves, out of a modish +snobbism, pranks far worse than the one which Rovinskaya had proposed. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0207"></a> CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<p> +On the way to Yamskaya Street Rovinskaya said to Chaplinsky: +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll bring me at first into the most luxurious place, then into a medium +one, and then into the filthiest.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Ellena Victorovna,” warmly retorted Chaplinsky, “I’m ready to do +everything for you. It is without false boasting when I say that I would give +my life away at your order, ruin my career and position at a mere sign of yours +... But I dare not bring you to these houses. Russian manners are coarse, and +often simply inhuman manners. I’m afraid that you will be insulted by some +pungent, unseemly word, or that a chance visitor will play some senseless prank +before you ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my God,” impatiently interrupted Rovinskaya; “when I was singing in +London, there were many at that time paying court to me, and I did not hesitate +to go and see the filthiest dens of Whitechapel in a choice company. I will +say, that I was treated there very carefully and anticipatingly. I will also +say, that there were with me at that time two English aristocrats; lords, both +sportsmen, both people unusually strong physically and morally, who, of course, +would never have allowed a woman to be offended. However, perhaps you, Volodya, +are of the race of cowards?” +</p> + +<p> +Chaplinsky flared up: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, no, Ellena Victorovna. I forewarned you only out of love for you. But +if you command, then I’m ready to go where you will. Not only on this dubious +undertaking, but even very death itself.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time they had already driven up to the most luxurious establishment in +the Yamkas—Treppel’s. Ryazanov the lawyer said, smiling with his usual ironic +smile: +</p> + +<p> +“And so, the inspection of the menagerie begins.” +</p> + +<p> +They were led into a cabinet with crimson wall paper, and on the wall paper was +repeated, in the “empire” style, a golden design in the form of small laurel +wreaths. And at once Rovinskaya recognized, with the keen memory of an artiste, +that exactly the same paper had also been in that cabinet in which they had +just been sitting. +</p> + +<p> +Four German women from the Baltic provinces came out. All of them stout, +full-breasted, blonde, powdered, very important and respectful. The +conversation did not catch on at first. The girls sat immovable, like carvings +of stone, in order to pretend with all their might that they were respectable +ladies. Even the champagne, which Ryazanov called for, did not improve the +mood. Rovinskaya was the first to come to the aid of the party. Turning to the +stoutest, fairest German of all, who resembled a loaf, she asked politely in +German: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, where were you born? Germany, in all probability?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, gnadige Frau, I am from Riga.” +</p> + +<p> +“What compels you to serve here, then? Not poverty, I hope?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not, gnadige Frau. But, you understand, my bridegroom, Hans, works +as a kellner in a restaurant-automat, and we are too poor to be married now. I +bring my savings to a bank, and he does the same. When we have saved the ten +thousand roubles we need, we will open our own beer-hall, and, if God will +bless us, then we shall allow ourselves the luxury of having children. Two +children. A boy and a girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, listen to me, mein Fraulein!” Rovinskaya was amazed. “You are young, +handsome, know two languages ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Three, madam,” proudly put in the German. “I know Esthonian as well. I +finished the municipal school and three classes of high school.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, you see, you see ...” Rovinskaya became heated. “With such an +education you could always find a place with everything found, and about thirty +roubles. Well, in the capacity of a housekeeper, bonne, senior clerk in a good +store, a cashier, let’s say ... And if your future bridegroom ... Fritz ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Hans, madam ...” +</p> + +<p> +“If Hans proved to be an industrious and thrifty man, then it would not be at +all hard for you to get up on your feet altogether, after three or four years. +What do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, madam, you are a little mistaken. You have overlooked that, in the very +best of positions, I, even denying myself in everything, will not be able to +put aside more than fifteen, twenty roubles a month; whereas here, with a +prudent economy, I gain up to a hundred roubles and at once carry them away +with a book into the savings bank. And besides that, just imagine, gnadige +Frau, what a humiliating position to be the servant in a house! Always to +depend on the caprice or the disposition of the spirits of the masters! And the +master always pesters you with foolishness. Pfui! .. And the mistress is +jealous, picks, and scolds.” +</p> + +<p> +“No ... I don’t understand ...” meditatively drawled Rovinskaya, without +looking the German in the eyes, but casting hers on the floor. “I’ve heard a +great deal of your life here, in these ... what do you call them? .. these +houses. They say it is something horrible. That you’re forced to love the most +repulsive, old and hideous men, that you are plucked and exploited in the most +cruel manner ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, never, madam ... Each one of us has an account book, wherein is written +accurately the income and expense. During last month I earned a little more +than five hundred roubles. As always, two-thirds went to the proprietress for +board, quarters, fuel, light, linen ... There remains to me more than a hundred +and fifty, it is not so? Fifty I spent on costumes and all sorts of trifles. A +hundred I save. What exploitation is it, then, madam, I ask you? And if I do +not like a man at all—true, there are some who are exceedingly nasty—I can +always say I am sick, and instead of me will go one of the newest girls ...” +</p> + +<p> +“But then ... pardon me, I do not know your name ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Elsa.” +</p> + +<p> +“They say, that you’re treated very roughly ... beaten at times ... compelled +to do that which you don’t want to and which is repulsive to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Never, madam!” dropped Elsa haughtily. “We all live here as a friendly family +of our own. We are all natives of the same land or relatives, and God grant +that many should live so in their own families as we live here. True, on +Yamskaya Street there happen various scandals and fights and misunderstandings. +But that’s there ... in these ... in the rouble establishments. The Russian +girls drink a lot and always have one lover. And they do not think at all of +their future.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are prudent, Elsa,” said Rovinskaya in an oppressed tone. “All this is +well. But, what of the chance disease? Infection? Why, that is death? And how +can you guess?” +</p> + +<p> +“And again—no, madam. I won’t let a man into my bed before I make a detailed +medical inspection of him ... I am guaranteed, at the least, against +seventy-five per cent.” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” suddenly exclaimed Rovinskaya with heat and hit the table with her +fist. “But, then, what of your Albert ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Hans,” the German corrected her meekly. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me ... Your Hans surely does not rejoice greatly over the fact that you +are living here, and that you betray him every day?” +</p> + +<p> +Elsa looked at her with sincere, lively amazement. +</p> + +<p> +“But gnadige Frau ... I have never yet betrayed him! It is other lost wenches, +especially Russian, who have lovers for themselves, on whom they spend their +hard-earned money. But that I should ever let myself go as far as that? Pfui!” +</p> + +<p> +“A greater fall I have not imagined!” said Rovinskaya loudly and with aversion, +getting up. “Pay gentlemen, and let’s go on from here.” +</p> + +<p> +When they had gone out into the street, Volodya took her arm and said in an +imploring voice: +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake, isn’t one experiment enough for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what vulgarity! What vulgarity!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s why I’m saying, let’s drop this experiment.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, in any case I am going through with it to the finish. Show me something +simpler, more of the medium.” +</p> + +<p> +Volodya Chaplinsky, who was all the time in a torment over Ellena Victorovna, +offered the most likely thing—to drop into the establishment of Anna Markovna, +which was only ten steps away. +</p> + +<p> +But it was just here that strong impressions awaited them. Simeon did not want +to let them in, and only several gold pieces, which Ryazanov gave him, softened +him. They took up a cabinet, almost the same as at Treppel’s, only somewhat +shabbier and more faded. At the command of Emma Edwardovna, the girls were +herded into the cabinet. But it was the same as letting a goat into a +truck-garden or mixing soda and acid. The main mistake, however, was that they +let Jennka in there as well—wrathful, irritated, with impudent fires in her +eyes. The modest, quiet Tamara was the last to walk in, with her shy and +depraved smile of a Monna Lisa. In the end, almost the entire personnel of the +establishment gathered in the cabinet. Rovinskaya no longer risked asking “How +did you come to this life?” But it must be said, that the inmates of the house +met her with an outward hospitality. Ellena Victorovna asked them to sing their +usual canonical songs, and they willingly sang: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Monday now is come again,<br/> +They’re supposed to get me out;<br/> +Doctor Krassov won’t let me out,<br/> +Well, the devil take him then. +</p> + +<p> +And further: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Poor little, poor little, poor little me,<br/> +The public house is closed,<br/> +My head’s aching me... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The love of a loafer<br/> +Is spice, is spice;<br/> +But the prostitute<br/> +Is as cold as ice.<br/> +Ha-ha-ha! +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +They came together<br/> +Matched as well as might be,<br/> +She is a prostitute,<br/> +A pickpocket he.<br/> +Ha-ha-ha! +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Now morning has come,<br/> +He is planning a theft;<br/> +While she lies in her bed<br/> +And laughs like she’s daft.<br/> +Ha-ha-ha! +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Comes morning, the laddie<br/> +Is led to the pen;<br/> +But for the prostitute<br/> +His pals await then.<br/> +Ha-ha-ha! ... +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[12] While there can be but little doubt that these four stanzas are an actual +transcript from life, Heinrich Heine’s “Ein Weib” is such a striking parallel +that it may be reproduced here as a matter of interest. The translation is by +Mr. Louis Untermeyer.—Trans. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +A WOMAN +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +They loved each other beyond belief—<br/> +She was a strumpet, he was a thief;<br/> +Whenever she thought of his tricks, thereafter<br/> +She’d throw herself on the bed with laughter. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +The day was spent with a reckless zest;<br/> +At night she lay upon his breast.<br/> +So when they took him, a while thereafter<br/> +She watched at the window—with laughter. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +He sent word pleading “Oh come to me,<br/> +I need you, need you bitterly,<br/> +Yes, here and in the hereafter.”<br/> +Her little head shook with laughter. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +At six in the morning they swung him high;<br/> +At seven the turf on his grave was dry;<br/> +At eight, however, she quaffed her<br/> +Red wine and sang with laughter! +</p> + +<p> +And still further a convict song: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +I’m a ruined laddie,<br/> +Ruined for alway;<br/> +While year after year<br/> +The days go away. +</p> + +<p> +And also: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Don’t you cry, my Mary,<br/> +You’ll belong to me;<br/> +When I’ve served the army<br/> +I will marry thee. +</p> + +<p> +But here suddenly, to the general amazement, the stout Kitty, usually taciturn, +burst into laughter. She was a native of Odessa. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me sing one song, too. It’s sung by thieves and badger queens in the drink +shops on our Moldavanka and Peresip.” +</p> + +<p> +And in a horrible bass, in a rusty and unyielding voice, she began to sing, +making the most incongruous gestures, but, evidently, imitating some cabaret +cantatrice of the third calibre that she had sometime seen: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Ah, I’ll go to Dukovka,<br/> +Sit down at the table,<br/> +Now I throw my hat off,<br/> +Toss it under table.<br/> +Then I athk my dearie,<br/> +‘What will you drink, sweet?’<br/> +But all the answer that she makes:<br/> +‘My head aches fit to split.’<br/> +‘I ain’t a-athking you<br/> +What your ache may be,<br/> +But I am a-athking you<br/> +What your drink may be:<br/> +Will it be beer, or for wine shall I call,<br/> +Or for violet wine, or nothing else at all?’” +</p> + +<p> +And all would have turned out well, if suddenly Little White Manka, in only her +chemise and in white lace drawers, had not burst into the cabinet. Some +merchant, who the night before had arranged a paradisaical night, was carousing +with her, and the ill-fated Benedictine, which always acted upon the girl with +the rapidity of dynamite, had brought her into the usual quarrelsome condition. +She was no longer “Little Manka” and “Little White Manka,” but she was “Manka +the Scandaliste.” Having run into the cabinet, she suddenly, from +unexpectedness, fell down on the floor, and, lying on her back, burst into such +sincere laughter that all the rest burst out laughing as well. Yes. But this +laughter was not prolonged ... Manka suddenly sat up on the floor and began to +shout: +</p> + +<p> +“Hurrah! new wenches have joined our place!” +</p> + +<p> +This was altogether an unexpected thing. The baroness did a still greater +tactlessness. She said: +</p> + +<p> +“I am a patroness of a convent for fallen girls, and therefore, as a part of my +duty, I must gather information about you.” +</p> + +<p> +But here Jennka instantly flared up: +</p> + +<p> +“Get out of here right away, you old fool! You rag! You floor mop! ... Your +Magdalene asylums—they’re worse than a prison. Your secretaries use us, like +dogs carrion. Your fathers, husbands, and brothers come to us, and we infect +them with all sorts of diseases ... Purposely ... And they in their turn infect +you. Your female superintendents live with the drivers, janitors and policemen, +while we are put in a cell if we happen to laugh or joke a little among +ourselves. And so, if you’ve come here as to a theatre, then you must hear the +truth out, straight to your face.” +</p> + +<p> +But Tamara calmly stopped her: +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, Jennie, I will tell them myself ... Can it be that you really think, +baroness, that we are worse than the so-called respectable women? A man comes +to me, pays me two roubles for a visit or five roubles for a night, and I don’t +in the least conceal this, from any one in the world ... But tell me, baroness, +do you possibly know even one married lady with a family who isn’t in secret +giving herself up either for the sake of passion to a young man, or for the +sake of money to an old one? I know very well that fifty percent of you are +kept by lovers, while the remaining fifty, of those who are older, keep young +lads. I also know that many—ah, how many!—of you cohabit with your fathers, +brothers, and even sons, but these secrets you hide in some sort of a hidden +casket. And that’s all the difference between us. We are fallen, but we don’t +lie and don’t pretend, but you all fall, and lie to boot. Think it over for +yourself; now—in whose favour is this difference?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, Tamarochka, that’s the way to serve them!” shouted Manka, without +getting up from the floor; dishevelled, fair, curly, resembling at this moment +a thirteen-year-old girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, now!” urged Jennka as well, flashing with her flaming eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not, Jennechka? I’ll go further than that. Out of us scarcely, scarcely +one in a thousand has committed abortion. But all of you several times over. +What? Or isn’t that the truth? And those of you who’ve done this, did it not +out of desperation or cruel poverty, but you simply were afraid of spoiling +your figure and beauty—that’s your sole capital! Or else you’ve been seeking +only beastly carnal pleasure, while pregnancy and feeding interfered with your +giving yourself up to it!” +</p> + +<p> +Rovinskaya became confused and uttered in a quick whisper: +</p> + +<p> +“Faites attention, baronne, que dans sa position cette demoiselle est +instruite.”[13] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[13] “Pay attention, baroness, the girl is rather educated for one of her +position.” +</p> + +<p> +“Figurez-vous, que moi, j’ai aussi remarque cet etrange visage. Comme si je +l’ai deja vu ... est-ce en reve? ... en demi-delire? Ou dans sa petite +enfance?”[14] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[14] “Just imagine, I, too, have remarked this strange face. But where have I +seen it ... was it in a dream? ... in semi-delirium? Or in her early infancy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ne vous donnez pas la peine de chercher dans vos souvenirs, baronne,” Tamara +suddenly interposed insolently. “Je puis de suite vous venir aide. +Rappelez-vous seulement Kharkoff, et la chambre d’hotel de Koniakine, +l’entrepreneur Solovieitschik, et le tenor di grazzia ... A ce moment vous +n’etiez pas encore m-me la baronne de ... [15] However, let’s drop the French +tongue ... You were a common chorus girl and served together with me.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[15] “Don’t trouble to strain your memory, baroness. I will come to your aid at +once. Just recall Kharkov, a room in Koniakine’s hotel, the theatrical manager, +Solovieitschik, and a certain lyrical tenor ... At that time you were not yet +baroness de ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Mais, dites-moi, au nom de dieu, comment vous trouvez vous ici, Mademoiselle +Marguerite.”[16] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[16] “But tell me, in God’s name, how you have come to be here, Mademoiselle +Marguerite?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, they ask us about that every day. I just up and came to be here ...” +</p> + +<p> +And with an inimitable cynicism she asked: +</p> + +<p> +“I trust you will pay for the time which we have passed with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, may the devil take you!” suddenly shouted out Little White Manka, quickly +getting up from the rug. +</p> + +<p> +And suddenly, pulling two gold pieces out of her stocking, she flung them upon +the table. +</p> + +<p> +“There, you! .. I’m giving you that for a cab. Go away right now, otherwise +I’ll break up all the mirrors and bottles here...” +</p> + +<p> +Rovinskaya got up and said with sincere, warm tears in her eyes: +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, we’ll go away, and the lesson of Mlle. Marguerite will prove of +benefit to us. Your time will be paid for—take care of it, Volodya. Still, you +sang so much for us, that you must allow me to sing for you as well.” +</p> + +<p> +Rovinskaya went up to the piano, took a few chords, and suddenly began to sing +the splendid ballad of Dargomyzhsky: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“We parted then with pride—<br/> +Neither with sighs nor words<br/> +Proffered I thee reproach of jealousy ...<br/> +We went apart for aye,<br/> +Yet only if with thee<br/> +I might but chance to meet! ..<br/> +Ah, that with thee I might but chance to meet! +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“I weep not nor complain—<br/> +To fate I bend my knee...<br/> +I know not, if you loved,<br/> +So greatly wronging me?<br/> +Yet only if with thee<br/> +I might but chance to meet! ...<br/> +Ah, that with thee I might but chance to meet!” +</p> + +<p> +This tender and passionate ballad, executed by a great artiste, suddenly +reminded all these women of their first love; of their first fall; of a late +leave-taking at a dawn in the spring, in the chill of the morning, when the +grass is gray from the dew, while the red sky paints the tips of the birches a +rosy colour; of last embraces, so closely entwined, and of the unerring heart’s +mournful whispers: “No, this will not be repeated, this will not be repeated!” +And the lips were then cold and dry, while the damp mist of the morning lay +upon the hair. +</p> + +<p> +Silence seized Tamara; silence seized Manka the Scandaliste; and suddenly +Jennka, the most untamable of all the girls, ran up to the artiste, fell down +on her knees, and began to sob at her feet. +</p> + +<p> +And Rovinskaya, touched herself, put her arms around her head and said: +</p> + +<p> +“My sister, let me kiss you!” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka whispered something into her ear. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, that’s a silly trifle,” said Rovinskaya. “A few months of treatment and +it will all go away.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, no ... I want to make all of them diseased. Let them all rot and +croak.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my dear,” said Rovinskaya, “I would not do that in your place.” +</p> + +<p> +And now Jennka, the proud Jennka began kissing the knees and hands of the +artiste and was saying: +</p> + +<p> +“Then why have people wronged me so? ... Why have they wronged me so? Why? Why? +Why?” +</p> + +<p> +Such is the might of genius! +</p> + +<p> +The only might which takes into its beautiful hands not the abject reason, but +the warm soul of man! The self-respecting Jennka was hiding her face in +Rovinskaya’s dress; Little White Manka was sitting meekly on a chair, her face +covered with a handkerchief; Tamara, with elbow propped on her knee and head +bowed on the palm of her hand, was intently looking down, while Simeon the +porter, who had been looking in against any emergency, only opened his eyes +wide in amazement. +</p> + +<p> +Rovinskaya was quietly whispering into Jennka’s very ear: +</p> + +<p> +“Never despair. Sometimes things fall out so badly that there’s nothing for it +but to hang one’s self—but, just look, to-morrow life has changed abruptly. My +dear, my sister, I am now a world celebrity. But if you only knew what seas of +humiliation and vileness I have had to wade through! Be well, then, my dear, +and believe in your star.” +</p> + +<p> +She bent down to Jennka and kissed her on the forehead. And never afterwards +could Volodya Chaplinsky, who had been watching this scene with a painful +tension, forget those warm and beautiful rays, which at this moment kindled in +the green, long, Egyptian eyes of the artiste. +</p> + +<p> +The party departed gloomily, but Ryazanov lingered behind for a minute. +</p> + +<p> +He walked up to Jennka, respectfully and gently kissed her hand, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“If possible, forgive our prank ... This, of course, will not be repeated. But +if you ever have need of me, I am always at your service. Here is my visiting +card. Don’t stick it out on your bureau; but remember, that from this evening +on I am your friend.” +</p> + +<p> +And, having kissed Jennka’s hand once more, he was the last to go down the +stairs. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0208"></a> CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<p> +On Thursday, since very morning, a ceaseless, fine drizzle had begun to fall, +and so the leaves of the chestnuts, acacias, and poplars had at once turned +green. And, suddenly, it became somehow dreamily quiet and protractedly +tedious. Pensive and monotonous. +</p> + +<p> +During this all the girls had gathered, as usual, in Jennka’s room. But +something strange was going on within her. She did not utter witticisms, did +not laugh, did not read, as always, her usual yellow-back novel which was now +lying aimlessly either on her breast or stomach; but was vicious, wrapped up in +sadness, and in her eyes blazed a yellow fire that spoke of hatred. In vain did +Little White Manka, Manka the Scandaliste, who adored her, try to turn her +attention to herself—Jennka seemed not to notice her, and the conversation did +not at all get on. It was depressing. But it may have been that the August +drizzle, which had steadily set in for several weeks running, reacted upon all +of them. Tamara sat down on Jennka’s bed, gently embraced her, and, having put +her mouth near her very ear, said in a whisper: +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter, Jennechka? I’ve seen for a long time that something strange +is going on in you. And Manka feels that too. Just see, how she’s wasted +without your caressing. Tell me. Perhaps I’ll be able to help you in some way?” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka closed her eyes and shook her head in negation. Tamara moved away from +her a little, but continued to stroke her shoulder gently. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s your affair, Jennechka. I daren’t butt into your soul. I only asked +because you’re the only being who...” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka with decision suddenly jumped out of bed, seized Tamara by the hand and +said abruptly and commandingly: +</p> + +<p> +“All right! Let’s get out of here for a minute. I’ll tell you everything. +Girls, wait for us a little while.” +</p> + +<p> +In the light corridor Jennka laid her hands on the shoulders of her mate and +with a distorted, suddenly blanched face, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, listen here: some one has infected me with syphilis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my poor darling. Long?” +</p> + +<p> +“Long. Do you remember, when the students were here? The same ones who started +a row with Platonov? I found out about it for the first time then. I found out +in the daytime.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know,” quietly remarked Tamara, “I almost guessed about this, and +particularly then, when you went down on your knees before the singer and +talked quietly about something with her. But still, my dear Jennechka, you must +attend to yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka wrathfully stamped her foot and tore in half the batiste handkerchief +which she had been nervously crumpling in her hands. +</p> + +<p> +“No! Not for anything! I won’t infect any one of you. You may have noticed +yourself, that during the last weeks I don’t dine at the common table, and that +I wash and wipe the dishes myself. That’s why I’m trying to break Manka away +from me, whom, you know, I love sincerely, in the real way. But these +two-legged skunks I infect purposely, infect every evening, ten, fifteen of +them. Let them rot, let them carry the syphilis on to their wives, mistresses, +mothers—yes, yes, their mothers also, and their fathers, and their governesses, +and even their grand-grandmothers. Let them all perish, the honest skunks!” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara carefully and tenderly stroked Jennka’s head. “Can it be that you’ll go +the limit, Jennechka?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. And without any mercy. All of you, however, don’t have to be afraid of +me. I choose the man myself. The stupidest, the handsomest, the richest and the +most important, but not to one of you will I let them go afterward. Oh! I make +believe I’m so passionate before them, that you’d burst out laughing if you +saw. I bite them, I scratch, I cry and shiver like an insane woman. They +believe it, the pack of fools.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s your affair, it’s your affair, Jennechka,” meditatively uttered Tamara, +looking down. “Perhaps you’re right, at that. Who knows? But tell me, how did +you get away from the doctor?” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka suddenly turned away from her, pressed her face against the angle of the +window frame and suddenly burst into bitter, searing tears—the tears of wrath +and vengefulness—and at the same time she spoke, gasping and quivering: +</p> + +<p> +“Because ... because ... Because God has sent me especial luck: I am sick there +where, in all probability, no doctor can see. And ours, besides that, is old +and stupid...” +</p> + +<p> +And suddenly, with some unusual effort of the will Jennka stopped her tears +just as unexpectedly as she had started crying. +</p> + +<p> +“Come to me, Tamarochka,” she said. “Of course, you won’t chatter too much?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not.” +</p> + +<p> +And they returned into Jennka’s room, both of them calm and restrained. +</p> + +<p> +Simeon walked into the room. He, contrary to his usual brazenness, always bore +himself with a shade of respect toward Jennka. Simeon said: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, Jennechka, their Excellency has come to Vanda. Allow her to go away +for ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +Vanda, a blue-eyed, light blonde, with a large red mouth, with the typical face +of a Lithuanian, looked imploringly at Jennka. If Jennka had said “No” she +would have remained in the room, but Jennka did not say anything and even shut +her eyes deliberately. Vanda obediently went out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +This general came accurately twice a month, every two weeks (just as to Zoe, +another girl, came daily another honoured guest, nicknamed the Director in the +house). +</p> + +<p> +Jennka suddenly threw the old, tattered book behind her. Her brown eyes flared +up with a real golden fire. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re wrong in despising this general,” said she. “I’ve known worse +Ethiopians. I had a certain guest once—a real blockhead. He couldn’t make love +to me otherwise than ... otherwise than ... well, let’s say it plainly: he +pricked me with pins in the breast ... While in Vilno a Polish Catholic priest +used to come to me. He would dress me all in white, compel me to powder myself, +lay me down on the bed. He’d light three candles near me. And then, when I +seemed to him altogether like a dead woman, he’d throw himself upon me.” +</p> + +<p> +Little White Manka suddenly exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the truth you’re telling, Jennka! I had a certain old bugger, too. He +made me pretend all the time that I was an innocent girl, so’s I’d cry and +scream. But, Jennechka, though you’re the smartest one of us, yet I’ll bet you +won’t guess who he was ...” +</p> + +<p> +“The warden of a prison?” +</p> + +<p> +“A fire chief.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Katie burst into laughter in her bass: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, I had a certain teacher. He taught some kind of arithmetic, I +disremember which. He always made me believe, that I was the man, and he the +woman, and that I should do it to him ... by force ... And what a fool! Just +imagine, girls, he’d yell all the time: ‘I’m your woman! I’m all yours! Take +me! Take me!’” +</p> + +<p> +“Loony!” said the blue-eyed, spry Verka in a positive and unexpectedly +contralto voice: “Loony.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, why?” suddenly retorted the kindly and modest Tamara. “Not crazy at all, +but simply, like all men, a libertine. At home it’s tiresome for him, while +here for his money he can receive whatever pleasure he desires. That’s plain, +it seems?” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka, who had been silent up to now, suddenly, with one quick movement sat up +in bed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re all fools!” she cried. “Why do you forgive them all this? Before I used +to be foolish myself, too, but now I compel them to walk before me on all +fours, compel them to kiss my soles, and they do this with delight ... You all +know, girlies, that I don’t love money, but I pluck the men in whatever way I +can. They, the nasty beasts, present me with the portraits of their wives, +brides, mothers, daughters ... However, you’ve seen, I think, the photographs +in our water-closet? But now, just think of it, my children ... A woman loves +only once, but for always, while a man loves like a he-greyhound... That he’s +unfaithful is nothing; but he never has even the commonest feeling of gratitude +left either for the old, or the new, mistress. I’ve heard it said, that now +there are many clean boys among the young people. I believe this, though I +haven’t seen, haven’t met them, myself. But all those I have seen are all +vagabonds, nasty brutes and skunks. Not so long ago I read some novel of our +miserable life. It’s almost the same thing as I’m telling you now.” +</p> + +<p> +Vanda came back. She slowly, carefully, sat down on the edge of Jennka’s bed; +there, where the shadow of the lamp fell. Out of that deep, though deformed +psychical delicacy, which is peculiar to people sentenced to death, prisoners +at hard labour, and prostitutes, none had the courage to ask her how she had +passed this hour and a half. Suddenly she threw upon the table twenty-five +roubles and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Bring me white wine and a watermelon.” +</p> + +<p> +And, burying her face in her arms, which had sunk on the table, she began to +sob inaudibly. And again no one took the liberty of putting any question to +her. Only Jennka grew pale from wrath and bit her lower lip so that a row of +white spots was left upon it. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said; “here, now, I understand Tamara. You hear, Tamara, I apologize +before you. I’ve often laughed over your being in love with your thief Senka. +But here, now, I’ll say that of all the men the most decent is a thief or a +murderer. He doesn’t hide the fact that he loves a girlie, and, if need be, +will commit a crime for her—a theft or a murder. But these—the rest of them! +All lying, falsehood, petty cunning, depravity on the sly. The nasty beast has +three families, a wife and five children. A governess and two children abroad. +The eldest daughter from the first marriage, and a child by her. And this +everybody, everybody in town knows, save his little children. And even they, +perhaps, guess it and whisper among themselves. And, just imagine, he’s a +respected person, honoured by the whole world ... My children, it seems we’ve +never had occasion to enter into confidences with each other, and yet I’ll tell +you, that I when I was ten and a half, was sold by my own mother in the city of +Zhitomir to Doctor Tarabukin. I kissed his hands, implored him to spare me, I +cried out to him: ‘I’m little!’ But he’d answer me: ‘That’s nothing, that’s +nothing: you’ll grow up.’ Well, of course, there was pain, aversion, nastiness +... And he afterwards spread it around as a current anecdote. The desperate cry +of my soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, as long as we do speak, let’s speak to the end,” suddenly and calmly +said Zoe, and smiled negligently and sadly. “I was deprived of innocence by a +teacher in the ministerial school, Ivan Petrovich Sus. He simply called me over +to his rooms, and his wife at that time had gone to market for a suckling +pig—it was Christmas. Treated me with candies, and then said it was going to be +one of two things: either I must obey him in everything, or he’d at once expel +me out of school for bad conduct. But then you know yourselves, girls, how we +feared the teachers. Here they aren’t terrible to us, because we do with them +whatever we want—but at that time! For then he seemed to us greater than Czar +and God.” +</p> + +<p> +“And me a stewdent. He was teaching the master’s boys in our place. There, +where I was a servant ...” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but I ...” exclaimed Niura, but, turning around unexpectedly, remained as +she was with her mouth open. Looking in the direction of her gaze, Jennka had +to wring her hands. In the doorway stood Liubka, grown thin, with dark rings +under her eyes, and, just like a somnambulist, was searching with her hand for +the door-knob, as a point of support. +</p> + +<p> +“Liubka, you fool, what’s the matter with you?” yelled Jennka loudly. “What is +it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of course, what: he took and chased me out.” +</p> + +<p> +No one said a word. Jennka hid her eyes with her hands and started breathing +hard, and it could be seen how under the skin of her cheeks the taut muscles of +the jaws were working. +</p> + +<p> +“Jennechka, all my hope is only in you,” said Liubka with a deep expression of +weary helplessness. “Everybody respects you so. Talk it over, dearie, with Anna +Markovna or with Simeon ... Let them take me back.” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka straightened up on the bed, fixed Liubka with her dry, burning, yet +seemingly weeping eyes, and asked brokenly: +</p> + +<p> +“Have you eaten anything to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Neither yesterday, nor to-day. Nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Jennechka,” asked Vanda quietly, “suppose I give her some white wine? +And Verka meanwhile will run to the kitchen for meat? What?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do as you know best. Of course, that’s all right. And give a look, girlies, +why, she’s all wet. Oh, what a booby! Well! Lively! Undress yourself! Little +White Manka, or you, Tamarochka, give her dry drawers, warm stockings and +slippers. Well, now,” she turned to Liubka, “tell us, you idiot, all that +happened to you!” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0209"></a> CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<p> +On that early morning when Lichonin so suddenly, and, perhaps, unexpectedly +even to himself, had carried off Liubka from the gay establishment of Anna +Markovna it was the height of summer. The trees still remained green, but in +the scent of the air, the leaves, and the grass there was already to be felt, +as though from afar, the tender, melancholy, and at the same time bewitching +scent of the nearing autumn. With wonder the student gazed at the trees, so +clean, innocent and quiet, as though God, imperceptibly to men, had planted +them about here at night; and the trees themselves were looking around with +wonder upon the calm blue water, that still seemed slumbering in the pools and +ditches and under the wooden bridge thrown across the shallow river; upon the +lofty, as though newly washed sky, which had just awakened, and, in the glow of +dawn, half asleep, was smiling with a rosy, lazy, happy smile in greeting to +the kindling sun. +</p> + +<p> +The heart of the student expanded and quivered; both from the beauty of the +beatific morning, and from the joy of existence, and from the sweet air, +refreshing his lungs after the night, passed without sleep, in a crowded and +smoke-filled compartment. But the beauty and loftiness of his own action moved +him still more. +</p> + +<p> +Yes, he had acted like a man, like a real man, in the highest sense of that +word! Even now he is not repenting of what he had done. It’s all right for them +(to whom this “them” applied, Lichonin did not properly understand even +himself), it’s all right for them to talk about the horrors of prostitution; to +talk, sitting at tea, with rolls and sausage, in the presence of pure and +cultured girls. But had any one of his colleagues taken some actual step toward +liberating a woman from perdition? Eh, now? And then there is also—the sort +that will come to this same Sonechka Marmeladova, will tell her all sorts of +taradiddles, describe all kinds of horrors to her, butt into her soul, until he +brings her to tears; and right off will start in crying himself and begin to +console her, embrace her, pat her on the head, kiss her at first on the cheek, +then on the lips; well, and everybody knows what happens next! Faugh! But with +him, with Lichonin, the word and the deed were never at odds. +</p> + +<p> +He clasped Liubka around the waist, and looked at her with kindly, almost +loving, eyes; although, the very same minute, he himself thought that he was +regarding her as a father or a brother. +</p> + +<p> +Sleep was fearfully besetting Liubka; her eyes would close, and she with an +effort would open them wide, so as not to fall asleep again; while on her lips +lay the same naive, childish, tired smile, which Lichonin had noticed still +there, in the cabinet. And out of one corner of her mouth ran a thin trickle of +saliva. +</p> + +<p> +“Liubka, my dear! My darling, much-suffering woman! Behold how fine it is all +around! Lord! Here it’s five years that I haven’t seen the sunrise. Now play at +cards, now drinking, now I had to hurry to the university. Behold, my dearest, +over there the dawn has burst into bloom. The sun is near! This is your dawn, +Liubochka! This is your new life beginning. You will fearlessly lean upon my +strong arm. I shall lead you out upon the road of honest toil, on the way to a +brave combat with life, face to face with it!” +</p> + +<p> +Liubka eyed him askance. “There, the fumes are still playing in his head,” she +thought kindly. “But that’s nothing—he’s kind and a good sort. Only a trifle +homely.” And, having smiled with a half-sleepy smile, she said in a tone of +capricious reproach: +</p> + +<p> +“Ye—es! You’ll fool me, never fear. All of you men are like that. You just gain +yours at first, to get your pleasure, and then—no attention whatsoever!” +</p> + +<p> +“I? Oh? That I should do this!” Lichonin exclaimed warmly and even smote +himself on the chest with his free hand. “Then you know me very badly! I’m too +honest a man to be deceiving a defenseless girl. No! I’ll exert all my powers +and all my soul to educate your mind, to widen your outlook, to compel your +poor heart, which has suffered so, to forget all the wounds and wrongs which +life has inflicted upon it. I will be a father and a brother to you! I shall +safeguard your every step! And if you will come to love somebody with a truly +pure, holy love, then I shall bless that day and hour when I had snatched you +out of this Dantean hell!” +</p> + +<p> +During the continuation of this flaming tirade the old cabby with great +significance, although silently, began laughing, and from this inaudible +laughter his back shook. Old cabbies hear very many things, because to the +cabby, sitting in front, everything is readily audible, which is not at all +suspected by the conversing fares; and many things do the old cabbies know of +that which takes place among people. Who knows, perhaps he had heard more than +once even more disordered, more lofty speeches? +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to Liubka for some reason that Lichonin had grown angry at her, or +that he was growing jealous beforehand of some imaginary rival. He was +declaiming with entirely too much noise and agitation. She became perfectly +awake, turned her face to Lichonin with wide open, uncomprehending, and at the +same time submissive eyes, and slightly touched his right hand, lying on her +waist, with her fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t get angry, my sweetie. I’ll never exchange you for another. Here’s my +word of honour, honest to God! My word of honour, that I never will! Don’t you +think I feel you’re wanting to take care of me? Do you think I don’t +understand? Why, you’re such an attractive, nice little young fellow. There, +now, if you were an old man and homely...” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! You haven’t got the right idea!” shouted Lichonin, and again in high-flown +style began to tell her about the equal rights of women, about the sacredness +of toil, about human justice, about freedom, about the struggle against +reigning evil. +</p> + +<p> +Of all his words Liubka understood exactly not a one. She still felt herself +guilty of something and somehow shrank all up, grew sad, bowed her head and +became quiet. A little more and she, in all probability, would have burst out +crying in the middle of the street; but fortunately, they by this time had +driven up to the house where Lichonin was staying. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, here we are at home,” said the student. “Stop, driver!” +</p> + +<p> +And when he had paid him, he could not refrain from declaiming with pathos, his +hand extended theatrically straight before him: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“And into my house, calm and fearless,<br/> +As its full mistress walk thou in!” +</p> + +<p> +And again the unfathomable, prophetic smile wrinkled the aged brown face of the +cabby. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0210"></a> CHAPTER X.</h3> + +<p> +The room in which Lichonin lived was situated on the fifth story and a half. +And a half, because there are such five, six, and seven-story profitable +houses, packed to overflowing and cheap, on top of which are erected still +other sorry bug-breeders of roof iron, something in the nature of mansards; or +more exactly, bird-houses, in which it is fearfully cold in winter, while in +the summer time it is just as torrid as in the tropics. Liubka with difficulty +clambered upward. It seemed to her that now, now, two steps more, and she would +drop straight down on the steps and fall into a sleep from which nothing would +be able to wake her. But Lichonin was saying all the time: +</p> + +<p> +“My dear! I can see you are tired. But that’s nothing. Lean upon me. We are +going upwards all the time! Always higher and higher! Is this not a symbol of +all human aspirations? My comrade, my sister, lean upon my arm!” +</p> + +<p> +Here it became still worse for poor Liubka. As it was, she could barely go up +alone, but here she also had to drag in tow Lichonin, who had grown extremely +heavy. And his weight would not really have mattered; his wordiness, however, +was beginning to irritate her little by little. So irritates at times the +ceaseless, wearisome crying, like a toothache, of an infant at breast; the +piercing whimpering of a canary; or someone whistling without pause and out of +tune in an adjoining room. +</p> + +<p> +Finally, they reached Lichonin’s room. There was no key in the door. And, as a +rule, it was never even locked with a key. Lichonin pushed the door and they +entered. It was dark in the room, because the window curtains were lowered. It +smelt of mice, kerosene, yesterday’s vegetable soup, long-.used bed linen, +stale tobacco smoke. In the half-dusk some one who could not be seen was +snoring deafeningly and with variations. +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin raised the shade. There were the usual furnishings of a poor student: +a sagging, unmade bed with a crumpled blanket; a lame table, and on it a +candlestick without a candle; several books on the floor and on the table; +cigarette stubs everywhere; and opposite the bed, along the other wall, an old, +old divan, upon which at the present moment was sleeping and snoring, with +mouth wide open, some young man with black hair and moustache. The collar of +his shirt was unbuttoned and through its opening could be seen the chest and +black hair, the like of which for thickness and curliness could be found only +on Persian lambs. +</p> + +<p> +“Nijeradze! Hey, Nijeradze, get up!” cried Lichonin and prodded the sleeper in +the ribs. “Prince!” +</p> + +<p> +“M-m-m...” +</p> + +<p> +“May your race be even accursed in the person of your ancestors and +descendants! May they even be exiled from the heights of the beauteous +Caucasus! May they even never behold the blessed Georgia! Get up, you skunk! +Get up you Aravian dromedary! Kintoshka! ...” +</p> + +<p> +But suddenly, unexpectedly for Lichonin, Liubka intervened. She took him by the +arm and said timidly: +</p> + +<p> +“Darling, why torture him? Maybe he wants to sleep, maybe he’s tired? Let him +sleep a bit. I’d better go home. Will you give me a half for a cabby? To-morrow +you’ll come to me again. Isn’t that so, sweetie?” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin was abashed. So strange did the intervention of this silent, +apparently sleepy girl, appear to him. Of course, he did not grasp that she was +actuated by an instinctive, unconscious pity for a man who had not had enough +sleep; or, perhaps, a professional regard for the sleep of other people. But +the astonishment was only momentary. For some reason he became offended. He +raised the hand of the recumbent man, which hung down to the floor, with the +extinguished cigarette still remaining between its fingers, and, shaking it +hard, he said in a serious, almost severe voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, now, Nijeradze, I’m asking you seriously. Understand, now, may the +devil take you that I’m not alone, but with a woman. Swine!” +</p> + +<p> +It was as though a miracle had happened: the lying man suddenly jumped up, as +though some spring of unusual force had instantaneously unwound under him. He +sat down on the divan, rapidly rubbed with his palms his eyes, forehead, +temples; saw the woman, became confused at once, and muttered, hastily +buttoning his blouse: +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Lichonin? And here I was waiting and waiting for you and fell +asleep. Request the unknown comrade to turn away for just a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +He hastily pulled on his gray, everyday student’s coat, and rumpled up with all +the fingers of both his hands his luxuriant black curls. Liubka, with the +coquetry natural to all women, no matter in what years or situation they find +themselves, walked up to the sliver of a mirror hanging on the wall, to fix her +hair-dress. Nijeradze askance, questioningly, only with the movement of his +eyes, indicated her to Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind. Don’t pay any attention,” answered the other aloud. “But let’s get +out of here, however. I’ll tell you everything right away. Excuse me, +Liubochka, it’s only for a minute. I’ll come back at once, fix you up, and then +evaporate, like smoke.” +</p> + +<p> +“But don’t trouble yourself,” replied Liubka: “it’ll be all right for me here, +right on this divan. And you fix yourself up on the bed.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, that’s no longer like a model, my angel! I have a colleague here. And so +I’ll go to him to sleep. I’ll return in just a minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Both students went out into the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +“What meaneth this dream?” asked Nijeradze, opening wide his oriental, somewhat +sheepish eyes. “Whence this beauteous child, this comrade in a petticoat?” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin shook his head with great significance and made a wry face. Now, when +the ride, the fresh air, the morning, and the business-like, everyday, +accustomed setting had entirely sobered him, he was beginning to experience +within his soul an indistinct feeling of a certain awkwardness, needlessness of +this sudden action; and at the same time something in the nature of an +unconscious irritation both against himself and the woman he had carried off. +He already had a presentiment of the onerousness of living together, of a +multiplicity of cares, unpleasantnesses and expenses; of the equivocal smiles +or even simply the unceremonious questionings of comrades; finally, of the +serious hindrance during the time of government examinations. But, having +scarcely begun speaking with Nijeradze, he at once became ashamed of his +pusillanimity, and having started off listlessly, towards the end he again +began to prance on his heroic steed. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see, prince,” he said, in his confusion twisting a button of his +comrade’s coat and without looking in his eyes, “you’ve made a mistake. This +isn’t a comrade in a petticoat, but ... simply, I was just now with my +colleagues ... that is, I wasn’t, but just dropped in for a minute with my +friends into the Yamkas, to Anna Markovna ...” +</p> + +<p> +“With whom?” asked Nijeradze, becoming animated. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, isn’t it all the same to you, prince? There was Tolpygin, Ramses, a +certain sub-professor—Yarchenko—Borya Sobashnikov, and others ... I don’t +recall. We had been boat-riding the whole evening, then dived into a +publican’s, and only after that, like swine, started for the Yamkas. I, you +know, am a very abstemious man. I only sat and soaked up cognac, like a sponge, +with a certain reporter I know. Well, all the others fell from grace however. +And so, toward morning, for some reason or other, I went all to pieces. I got +so sad and full of pity from looking at these unhappy women. I also thought, +now, of how our sisters enjoy our regard, love, protection; how our mothers are +surrounded with reverent adoration. Just let some one say one rude word to +them, shove them, offend them; we are ready to chew his throat off! Isn’t that +the truth?” +</p> + +<p> +“M-m? ...” drawled out the Georgian, half questioningly, half expectantly, and +squinted his eyes to one side. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then I thought: why, now, any blackguard, any whippersnapper, any +shattered ancient can take any one of these women to himself for a minute or +for a night, as a momentary whim; and indifferently, one superfluous time +more—the thousand and first—profane and defile in her that which is the most +precious in a human being—love... Do you understand—revile, trample it +underfoot, pay for the visit and walk away in peace, his hands in his pockets, +whistling. But the most horrible of all is that all this has come to be a habit +with them; it’s all one to her, and it’s all one to him. The feelings have +dulled, the soul has dimmed. That’s so, isn’t it? And yet, in every one of them +perishes both a splendid sister and a sainted mother. Eh? Isn’t that the +truth?” +</p> + +<p> +“N-na? ....” mumbled Nijeradze and again shifted his eyes to one side. +</p> + +<p> +“And so I thought: wherefore words and superfluous exclamations! To the devil +with hypocritical speeches during conventions. To the devil with abolition, +regulation (suddenly, involuntarily, the recent words of the reporter came to +his mind), Magdalene asylums and all these distributions of holy books in the +establishments! Here, I’ll up and act as a really honest man, snatch a girl out +of this slough, implant her in real firm soil, calm her, encourage her, treat +her kindly.” +</p> + +<p> +“H-hm!” grunted Nijeradze with a grin. +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, prince! You always have salacious things on your mind. For you understand +that I’m not talking about a woman, but about a human being; not about flesh, +but about a soul.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, all right, me soul, go on!” +</p> + +<p> +“Futhermore, as I thought, so did I act. I took her to-day from Anna Markovna’s +and brought her for the present to me. And later—whatever God may grant. I’ll +teach her in the beginning to read, and write; then open up for her a little +cook-shop, or a grocery store, let’s say. I think that the comrades won’t +refuse to help me. The human heart, prince, my brother—every heart—is in need +of cordiality, of warmth. And lo and behold! in a year, in two, I will return +to society a good, industrious, worthy member, with a virgin soul, open to all +sorts of great possibilities... For she has given only her body, while her soul +is pure and innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tse, tse, tse,” the prince smacked his tongue. +</p> + +<p> +“What does this mean, you Tifflissian he-mule?” +</p> + +<p> +“And will you buy her a sewing machine?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why a sewing machine, in particular? I don’t understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s always that way in the novels, me soul. Just as soon as the hero has +saved the poor, but lost, creature, he at once sets up a sewing machine for +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop talking nonsense,” Lichonin waved him away angrily with his hand. +“Clown!” +</p> + +<p> +The Georgian suddenly grew heated, his black eyes began to sparkle, and +immediately Caucasian intonations could be heard in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“No, not nonsense, me soul. It’s one of two things here, and it’ll all end in +one and the same result. Either you’ll get together with her and after five +months chuck her out on the street; and she’ll return to the brothel or take to +walking the street. That’s a fact! Or else you won’t get together with her, but +will begin to load her up with manual or mental labours and will try to develop +her ignorant, dark mind; and she from tedium will run away from you, and will +again find herself either walking the street, or in a brothel. That’s a fact, +too! However, there is still a third combination. You’ll be vexing yourself +about her like a brother, like the knight Lancelot, but she, secretly from you, +will fall in love with another. Me soul, believe me, that wooman, when she is a +wooman, is always—a wooman. And the other will play a bit with her body, and +after three months chuck her out into the street or into a brothel.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin sighed deeply. Somewhere deep—not in his mind, but in the hidden, +almost unseizable secret recesses of his consciousness—something resembling the +thought that Nijeradze was right flashed through him. But he quickly gained +control of himself, shook his head, and, stretching out his hand to the prince, +uttered triumphantly: +</p> + +<p> +“I promise you, that after half a year you’ll take your words back, and as a +mark of apology, you Erivanian billy goat, you Armavirian egg-plant, you’ll +stand me to a dozen of Cakhetine wine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Va! That’s a go!” the prince struck Lichonin’s hand with his palm with all his +might. “With pleasure. But if it comes out as I say—then you do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I do it. However, AU REVOIR, prince. Whom are you lodging with?” +</p> + +<p> +“Right here, in this corridor, at Soloviev’s. But you, of course, like a +mediaeval knight, will lay a two-edged sword between yourself and the beauteous +Rosamond? Yes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense! I did want to pass the night at Soloviev’s myself. But now I’ll go +and wander about the streets a bit and turn in into somebody’s; to Zaitzevich +or Strump. Farewell, prince!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, wait!” Nijeradze called him, when he had gone a few steps. “I have +forgotten to tell you the main thing: Partzan has tripped up!” +</p> + +<p> +“So that’s how?” wondered Lichonin, and at once yawned long, deeply and with +enjoyment. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. But there’s nothing dreadful; only the possession of some illegal +brochures and stuff. He won’t have to sit for more than a year.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s nothing; he’s a husky lad, he can stand it.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s husky, all right” confirmed the prince. +</p> + +<p> +“Farewell!” +</p> + +<p> +“AU REVOIR, knight Grunwaldus!” +</p> + +<p> +“AU REVOIR, you Carbidinian stallion.” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0211"></a> CHAPTER XI.</h3> + +<p> +Lichonin was left alone. In the half-dark corridor it smelt of kerosene fumes +from the guttering little tin lamp, and of the odour of stagnant bad tobacco. +The daylight dully penetrated only near the top, from two small glass frames, +let in the roof at both ends of the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin found himself in that simultaneously weakened and elevated mood which +is so familiar to every man who has happened to be thoroughly sleepless for a +long time. It was as though he had gone out of the limitations of everyday +human life, and this life had become to him distant and of indifference; but at +the same time his thoughts and emotions obtained a certain peaceful clarity and +apathetic distinctness, and there was a tedious and languishing allurement in +this crystal Nirvanah. +</p> + +<p> +He stood near his room, leaning against the wall, and seemed to see, feel, and +hear how near him and below him were sleeping several score of people; sleeping +with the last, fast morning sleep, with open mouths, with measured deep +breathing, with a wilted pallor on their faces, glistening from sleep; and +through his head flashed the thought, remote yet familiar since childhood, of +how horrible sleeping people are—far more horrible than dead people. Then he +remembered about Liubka. His subterranean, submerged, mysterious “I” rapidly, +rapidly whispered that he ought to drop into the room, and see if the girl were +all right, as well as make certain dispositions about tea in the morning; but +he made believe to himself that he was not at all even thinking of this, and +walked out into the street. +</p> + +<p> +He walked, looking closely at everything that met his eyes, with an idle and +exact curiosity new to him; and every feature was drawn for him in relief to +such a degree that it seemed to him as though he were feeling it with his +fingers... There a peasant woman passed by. Over her shoulder is a yoke staff, +while at each end of the yoke is a large pail of milk; her face is not young, +with a net of fine wrinkles on the temples and with two deep furrows from the +nostrils to the corners of the mouth; but her cheeks are rosy, and, probably, +hard to the touch, while her hazel eyes radiate a sprightly peasant smile. From +the movement of the heavy yoke and from the smooth walk her hips sway +rhythmically now to the left, now to the right, and in their wave-like +movements there is a coarse, sensual beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“A mischievous dame, and she’s lived through a checkered life,” reflected +Lichonin. And suddenly, unexpectedly to himself, he had a feeling for, and +irresistibly desired, this woman, altogether unknown to him, homely and not +young; in all probability dirty and vulgar, but still resembling, as it seemed +to him, a large Antonovka[17] apple which had fallen to the ground-somewhat +bored by a worm, and which had lain just a wee bit too long, but which has +still preserved its bright colour and its fragrant, winey aroma. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[17] Somewhat like a Spitzbergen, but a trifle rounder.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +Getting ahead of her, an empty, black, funereal catafalque whirled by; with two +horses in harness, and two tied behind to the little rear columns. The +torch-bearers and grave-diggers, already drunk since morning, with red, brutish +faces, with rusty opera hats on their heads, were sitting in a disorderly heap +on their uniform liveries, on the reticular horse-blankets, on the mourning +lanterns; and with rusty, hoarse voices were roaring out some incoherent song. +“They must be hurrying to a funeral procession; or, perhaps, have even finished +it already,” reflected Lichonin; “merry fellows!” On the boulevard he came to a +stop and sat down on a small wooden bench, painted green. Two rows of mighty +centenarian chestnuts went away into the distance, merging together somewhere +afar into one straight green arrow. The prickly large nuts were already hanging +on the trees. Lichonin suddenly recalled that at the very beginning of the +spring he had been sitting on this very boulevard, and at this very same spot. +Then it had been a calm, gentle evening of smoky purple, soundlessly falling +into slumber, just like a smiling, tired maiden. Then the stalwart chestnuts, +with their foliage—broad at the bottom and narrow toward the top—had been +strewn all over with clusters of blossoms, growing with bright, rosy, thin +cones straight to the sky; just as though some one by mistake had taken and +fastened upon all the chestnuts, as upon lustres, pink Christmas-tree candles. +And suddenly, with extraordinary poignancy—every man sooner or later passes +through this zone of inner emotion—Lichonin felt, that here are the nuts +ripening already, while then there had been little pink blossoming candles, and +that there would be many more springs and many blossoms, but the one which had +passed no one and nothing had the power to bring back. Sadly gazing into the +depths of the retreating dense alley, he suddenly noticed that sentimental +tears were making his eyes smart. +</p> + +<p> +He got up and went on farther, looking closely at everything that he met with +an incessant, sharpened, and at the same time calm attention, just as though he +were looking at the God-created world for the first time. A gang of stone +masons went past him on the pavement, and all of them were reflected in his +inner vision with an exaggerated vividness and brilliance of colour, just as +though on the frosted glass of a camera obscura. The foreman, with a red beard, +matted to one side, and with blue austere eyes; and a tremendous young fellow, +whose left eye was swollen, and who had a spot of a dark-blue colour spreading +from the forehead to the cheekbone and from the nose to the temple; and a young +boy with a naive, country face, with a gaping mouth like a fledgling’s, weak, +moist; and an old man who, having come late, was running after the gang at a +funny, goat-like trot; and their clothes, soiled with lime, their aprons and +their chisels—all this flickered before him in an inanimate file—a colourful, +motley, but dead cinematographic film. +</p> + +<p> +He had to cut across the New Kishenevsky Market. Suddenly the savoury, greasy +odour of something roasted compelled him to distend his nostrils. Lichonin +recalled that he had not eaten anything since noon yesterday, and at once felt +hunger. He turned to the right, into the centre of the market. +</p> + +<p> +In the days of his starvings—and he had had to experience them more than +once—he would come here to the market, and for the pitiful coppers, gotten with +difficulty, would buy himself bread and fried sausage. This was in winter, +oftenest of all. The huckstress, wrapped up in a multiplicity of clothes, +usually sat upon a pot of coals for warmth; while before her, on the iron +dripping-pan, hissed and crackled the thick, home-made sausage, cut into pieces +a quarter of a yard in length, plentifully seasoned with garlic. A piece of +sausage usually cost ten kopecks, the bread two kopecks. +</p> + +<p> +There were very many folk at market to-day. Even at a distance, edging his way +to the familiar, loved stall, Lichonin heard the sounds of music. Having made +his way through the crowd, which in a solid ring surrounded one of the stalls, +he saw a naive and endearing sight, which may be seen only in the blessed south +of Russia. Ten or fifteen huckstresses, during ordinary times gossips of evil +tongue and addicted to unrestrainable swearing, inexhaustible in its verbal +diversity, but now, evidently, flattering and tender cronies, had started +celebrating even since last evening; had caroused the whole night through and +now had carried their noisy merrymaking out to the market. The hired +musicians—two fiddles, a first and a second, and a tambourine—were strumming a +monotonous but a lively, bold, daring and cunning tune. Some of the wives were +clinking glasses and kissing each other, pouring vodka over one another; others +poured it out into glasses and over the tables; others still, clapping their +palms in time with the music, oh’d, squealed, and danced, squatting in one +place. And in the middle of the ring, upon the cobbles of the pavement, a stout +woman of about forty-five, but still handsome, with red, fleshy lips, with +humid, intoxicated, seemingly unctuous eyes, merrily sparkling from under the +high bows of black, regular, Little Russian eyebrows, was whirling around and +stamping out a tattoo on one spot. All the beauty and all the art of her dance +consisted in that she would now bow her little head and look out provokingly +from under her eyebrows, then suddenly toss it back and let her eyelashes down +and spread her hands out at her sides; and also in that in measure with the +dance her enormous breasts swayed and quivered under her red calico waist. +During the dance she was singing, now shuffling her heels, now the toes, of her +goat-skin shoes: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The fiddle’s playing on the street,<br/> +You can hear its bass so sweet;<br/> +My mother has me locked up neat,<br/> +My waitin’ dearie I can’t meet.” +</p> + +<p> +That was the very country-wife whom Lichonin knew; the self-same who not only +had had him for a client during hard times, but had even extended him credit. +She suddenly recognized Lichonin, darted to him, embraced him, squeezed him to +her bosom and kissed him straight on his lips with her moist, warm, thick lips. +Then she spread her arms out wide, smote one palm against the other, +intertwined her fingers, and sweetly, as only Podolian wives can do it, began +to coo: +</p> + +<p> +“My little master, my little silver gold trove, my lovie! You forgive a drunken +wife like me, now. Well, what of it? I’ve gone op a spree!” She then darted at +him in an attempt to kiss his hand. “But then, I know you ain’t proud, like +other gentry. Well, give me your hand, dearie-dear; why, I want to kiss your +little hand! No, no, no! I athk, I athk you! ...” “Well, now, that’s nonsense, +Aunt Glycera!” Linchonin interrupted her, unexpectedly becoming animated. +“Let’s best kiss just so, now. Your lips are just too sweet!” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, my little sweetheart! My little bright sun, my little apple of paradise, +you,” Glycera waxed tender, “give me your lips, then! Give me your little lips +to buss, then! ...” +</p> + +<p> +She pressed him warmly to her gigantean bosom and again slavered over him with +her moist, warm, Hottentot lips. After that, she seized him by his sleeve, +brought him out into the middle of the ring, and began to walk around him with +a stately, mincing step, having bent her waist coquettishly and vociferating: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Oh, each to his taste, I want Paraska more,<br/> +For I’ve a divel in my pants<br/> +Her skirt holds somethin’ for!” +</p> + +<p> +And then suddenly she passed on, sustained by the musicians, to a most +rollicking, Little Russian, thumping GOPAK dance: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Oh, Chook, that is too much,<br/> +You have soiled your apron too much.<br/> +Well, Prisko, don’t you fret,<br/> +Wipe it off, then, if you’re wet!<br/> +TRALALA, TRALALA ... +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +Sleeps, Khima, and won’t stir<br/> +That a Kossack sleeps with her,<br/> +You feel all, Khima—why deceive?<br/> +Just to yourself you make believe.<br/> +TAI, TAI, TRALALAI...” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin, completely grown merry, suddenly began jumping like a goat about her, +just like a satellite around a whirling planet—long-legged, long-armed, +stooping and altogether incongruous. His entrance was greeted by a general but +pretty friendly neighing. He was made to sit down at the table, was helped to +vodka and sausage. He, for his part, sent a tramp he knew after beer, and, +glass in hand, delivered three absurd speeches: one about the +self-determination of Ukraine; another about the goodness of Little Russian +sausage, in connection with the beauty and domesticity of the women of Little +Russia; and the third, for some reason, about trade and industry in the south +of Russia. Sitting alongside of Lukeriya, he was all the time trying to embrace +her around the waist, and she did not oppose this. But even his long arms could +not encompass her amazing waist. However, she clasped his hand powerfully under +the table, until it hurt, with her enormous, soft hand, as hot as fire. +</p> + +<p> +At this moment among the huckstresses, who up to now had been tenderly kissing, +certain old, unsettled quarrels and grievances flickered up. Two of the wives, +bending toward each other just like roosters ready to enter battle, their arms +akimbo, were pouring upon each other the most choice, out-of-the-way oaths: +</p> + +<p> +“Fool, stiff, daughter of a dog!” one was yelling. “Youse ain’t fit to kiss me +right here.” And, turning her back around to her foe, she loudly slapped +herself below the spine. “Right here! Here!” +</p> + +<p> +While the other, infuriated, squealed in answer: +</p> + +<p> +“You lie, you slut, for I am fit, I am fit!” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin utilized the minute. As though he had just recalled something, he +hurriedly jumped up from the bench and called out: +</p> + +<p> +“Wait for me, Aunty Luckeriya, I’ll come in three minutes!” and dived through +the living ring of spectators. +</p> + +<p> +“Master! Master!” his neighbour cried after him: “Come back the quickest you +can, now! I’ve one little word to say to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Having turned the corner, he for some time racked his head trying to recall +what it was that he absolutely had to do, now, this very minute. And again, in +the very depths of his soul, he knew just what he had to do, but he +procrastinated confessing this to his own self. It was already a clear, bright +day, about nine or ten o’clock. Janitors were watering the streets with rubber +hose. Flower girls were sitting on the squares and near the gates of the +boulevards, with roses, stock-gillyflowers and narcissi. The radiant, gay, rich +southern town was beginning to get animated. Over the pavement jolted an iron +cage filled with dogs of every possible colour, breed, and age. On the coach +box were sitting two dog-catchers, or, as they deferentially style themselves, +“the king’s dog-catchers”—i. e., hunters of stray dogs—returning home with this +morning’s catch. +</p> + +<p> +“She must be awake by now,” Lichonin’s secret thought finally took form; “but +if she isn’t yet awake, then I’ll quietly lie down on the divan and sleep a +little.” +</p> + +<p> +In the corridor the dying kerosene lamp emitted a dim light and smoked as +before, and the watery, murky half-light penetrated into the narrow, long box. +The door of the room had remained unlocked, after all. Lichonin opened it +without a sound and entered. +</p> + +<p> +The faint, blue half-light poured in through the interstices between the blinds +and the windows. Lichonin stopped in the middle of the room and with an +intensified avidity heard the quiet, sleeping breathing of Liubka. His lips +became so hot and dry that he had to lick them incessantly. His knees began to +tremble. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask if she needs anything,” suddenly darted through his head. +</p> + +<p> +Like a drunkard, breathing hard, with mouth open, staggering on his shaking +legs, he walked up to the bed. +</p> + +<p> +Liubka was sleeping on her back, with one bare arm stretched out along the +body, and the other on her breast. Lichonin bent nearer, to her very face. She +was breathing evenly and deeply. This breathing of her young, healthy body was, +despite sleep, pure and almost aromatic. He cautiously ran his fingers over her +bare arm and stroked her breast a little below the clavicle. “What am I doing?” +his reason suddenly cried out within him in terror; but some one else answered +for Lichonin: “But I’m not doing anything. I only want to ask if she’s sleeping +comfortably, and whether she doesn’t want some tea.” +</p> + +<p> +But Liubka suddenly awoke, opened her eyes, blinked them for a moment and +opened them again. She gave a long, long stretch, and with a kindly, not yet +fully reasoning smile, encircled Lichonin’s neck with her warm, strong arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Sweetie! Darling!” caressingly uttered the woman in a crooning voice, somewhat +hoarse from sleep. “Why, I was waiting for you and waiting, and even became +angry. And after that I fell asleep and all night long saw you in my sleep. +Come to me, my baby, my lil’ precious!” She drew him to her, breast against +breast. +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin almost did not resist; he was all atremble, as from a chill, and +meaninglessly repeating in a galloping whisper with chattering teeth: +</p> + +<p> +“No, now, Liuba, don’t ... Really, don’t do that, Liuba ... Ah, let’s drop +this, Liuba ... Don’t torture me. I won’t vouch for myself ... Let me alone, +now, Liuba, for God’s sake! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“My-y little silly!” she exclaimed in a laughing, joyous voice. “Come to me, my +joy!”—and, overcoming the last, altogether insignificant opposition, she +pressed his mouth to hers and kissed him hard and warmly—kissed him sincerely, +perhaps for the first and last time in her life. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you scoundrel! What am I doing?” declaimed some honest, prudent, and false +body in Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now? Are you eased up a bit?” asked Liubka kindly, kissing Lichonin’s +lips for the last time. “Oh, you, my little student! ...” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0212"></a> CHAPTER XII.</h3> + +<p> +With pain at soul, with malice and repulsion toward himself and Liubka, and, it +would seem, toward all the world, Lichonin without undressing flung himself +upon the wooden, lopsided, sagging divan and even gnashed his teeth from the +smarting shame. Sleep would not come to him, while his thoughts revolved around +this fool action—as he himself called the carrying off of Liubka,—in which an +atrocious vaudeville had been so disgustingly intertwined with a deep drama. +“It’s all one,” he stubbornly repeated to himself. “Once I have given my +promise, I’ll see the business through to the end. And, of course, that which +has occurred just now will never, never be repeated! My God, who hasn’t fallen, +giving in to a momentary laxity of the nerves? Some philosopher or other has +expressed a deep, remarkable truth, when he affirmed that the value of the +human soul may be known by the depth of its fall and the height of its flight. +But still, the devil take the whole of this idiotical day and that equivocal +reasoner—the reporter Platonov, and his own—Lichonin’s—absurd outburst of +chivalry! Just as though, in reality, this had not taken place in real life, +but in Chernishevski’s novel, What’s to be done? And how, devil take it, with +what eyes will I look upon her tomorrow?” +</p> + +<p> +His head was on fire; his eyelids were smarting, his lips dry. He was nervously +smoking a cigarette and frequently got up from the divan to take the decanter +of water off the table, and avidly, straight from its mouth, drink several big +draughts. Then, by some accidental effort of the will, he succeeded in tearing +his thoughts away from the past night, and at once a heavy sleep, without any +visions and images, enveloped him as though in black cotton. +</p> + +<p> +He awoke long past noon, at two or three o’clock; at first could not come to +himself for a long while; smacked his lips and looked around the room with +glazed, heavy eyes. All that had happened during the night seemed to have flown +out of his memory. But when he saw Liubka, who was quietly and motionlessly +sitting on the bed, with head lowered and hands crossed on her knees, he began +to groan and grunt from vexation and confusion. Now he recalled everything. And +at that minute he experienced in his own person how heavy it is to see in the +morning, with one’s own eyes, the results of folly committed the night before. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you awake, sweetie?” asked Liubka kindly. +</p> + +<p> +She got up from the bed, walked up to the divan, sat down at Lichonin’s feet, +and cautiously patted his blanket-covered leg. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I woke up long ago and was sitting all the while; I was afraid to wake +you up. You were sleeping so very soundly!” +</p> + +<p> +She stretched toward him and kissed him on the cheek. Lichonin made a wry face +and gently pushed her away from him. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, Liubochka! Wait; that’s not necessary. Do you understand—absolutely, +never necessary. That which took place yesterday—well, that’s an accident. My +weakness, let’s say. Even more, a momentary baseness, perhaps. But, by God, +believe me, I didn’t at all want to make a mistress out of you. I want to see +you my friend, my sister, my comrade ... Well, that’s nothing, then; everything +will adjust itself, grow customary. Only one mustn’t fall in spirit. And in the +meanwhile, my dear, go to the window and look out of it a bit; I just want to +put myself in order.” +</p> + +<p> +Liubka slightly pouted her lips and walked off to the window, turning her back +on Lichonin. All these words about friendship, brotherhood and comradeship she +could not understand with her brain of a hen and her simple peasant soul. That +a student—after all, not just anybody, but an educated man, who could learn to +be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a judge—had taken her for maintenance flattered +her imagination far more ... And here, now, it turned out that he had just +fulfilled his caprice, had gotten what he wanted, and was now trying to back +out. They are all like that, the men! +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin hastily got up, splashed a few handfuls of water in his face, and +dried himself with an old napkin. Then he raised the blinds and threw open both +window shutters. The golden sunlight, the azure sky, the rumble of the city, +the foliage of the thick linden trees and the chestnuts, the bells of the horse +trams, the dry smell of the hot, dusty street—all this at once burst into the +tiny garret room. Lichonin walked up to Liubka and amicably patted her on the +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, my joy ... What’s done can’t be undone, but it’s a lesson for the +future. You haven’t yet asked tea for yourself, Liubochka?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I was waiting for you all the while. Besides, I didn’t know who to ask. +And you’re all right, too. Why, I heard you, after you went off with your +friend, come back and stand a while near the door. But you never even said +good-bye to me. Is that right?” +</p> + +<p> +“The first family quarrel,” thought Lichonin, but thought it without malice, in +jest. +</p> + +<p> +The wash-up, the beauty of the gold and blue southern sky, and the naive, +partly submissive, partly displeased face of Liubka, as well as the +consciousness that after all he was a man, and that he and not she had to +answer for the porridge he had cooked—all this together braced up his nerves +and compelled him to take himself in hand. He opened the door and roared into +the darkness of the stinking corridor: +</p> + +<p> +“Al-lexa-andra! A samova-ar! Two lo-oaves, bu-utter, and sausage! And a small +bottle of vo-odka!” +</p> + +<p> +The patter of slippers was heard in the corridor, and an aged voice, even from +afar, began to speak thickly: +</p> + +<p> +“What are you bawling for? What are you bawling for, eh? Ho, ho, ho! Like a +stallion in a stall. You ain’t little, to look at you; you’re grown up already, +yet you carry on like a street boy! Well, what do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +Into the room walked a little old woman, with red-lidded eyes, like little +narrow cracks, and with a face amazingly like parchment, upon which a long, +sharp nose stuck downward, morosely and ominously. This was Alexandra, the +servant of old of the student bird-houses; the friend and creditor of all the +students; a woman of sixty-five, argumentative, and a grumbler. +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin repeated his order to her and gave her a rouble note. But the old +woman would not go away; shuffled in one place, snorted, chewed with her lips +and looked inimically at the girl sitting—with her back to the light. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with you now, Alexandra, that you seem ossified?” asked +Lichonin, laughing. “Or are you lost in admiration? Well, then, know: this is +my cousin, my first cousin, that is—Liubov...”[18] he was confused for only a +second, but immediately fired away: “Liubov Vasilievna, but for me—simply +Liubochka. I’ve known her when she was only that high,” he showed a quarter of +a yard off the table. “And I pulled her ears and slapped her for her caprices +over the place where the legs grow from. And then ... I caught all sorts of +bugs for her ... But, however ... However, you go on, go on, you Egyptian +mummy, you fragment of former ages! Let one leg be here and the other there!” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[18] Love.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +But the old woman lingered. Stamping all around herself, she barely, barely +turned to the door and kept a keen, spiteful, sidelong glance on Liubka. And at +the same time she muttered with her sunken mouth: +</p> + +<p> +“First cousin! We know these first cousins! There’s lots of them walking around +Kashtanovaya Street. There, these he-dogs can never get enough!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you old barque! Lively and don’t growl!” Lichonin shouted after her. “Or +else, like your friend, the student Triassov, I’ll take and lock you up in the +dressing room for twenty-four hours!” +</p> + +<p> +Alexandra went away, and for a long time her aged, flapping steps and +indistinct muttering could be heard in the corridor. She was inclined, in her +austere, grumbling kindliness, to forgive a great deal to the studying youths, +whom she had served for nigh unto forty years. She forgave drunkenness, card +playing, scandals, loud singing, debts; but, alas! she was a virgin, and there +was only one thing her continent soul could not abide—libertinage. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0213"></a> CHAPTER XIII.</h3> + +<p> +“And that’s splendid ... And fine and charming,” Lichonin was saying, bustling +about the lame table and without need shifting the tea things from one place to +another. “For a long time, like an old crocodile, I haven’t drunk tea as it +should be drunk, in a Christian manner, in a domestic setting. Sit down, Liuba, +sit down, my dear, right here on the divan, and keep house. Vodka, in all +probability, you don’t drink of a morning, but I, with your permission, will +drink some ... This braces up the nerves right off. Make mine a little +stronger, please, with a piece of lemon. Ah, what can taste better than a glass +of hot tea, poured out by charming feminine hands?” +</p> + +<p> +Liubka listened to his chatter, a trifle too noisy to seem fully natural; and +her smile, in the beginning mistrusting, wary, was softening and brightening. +But she did not get on with the tea especially well. At home, in the backwoods +village, where this beverage was still held a rarity, the dainty luxury of +well-to-do families, to be brewed only for honored guests and on great +holidays—there over the pouring of the tea officiated the eldest man of the +family. Later, when Liubka served with “all found” in the little provincial +capital city, in the beginning at a priest’s, and later with an insurance agent +(who had been the first to put her on the road of prostitution)—she was usually +left some strained, tepid tea, which had already been drunk off, with a bit of +gnawn sugar, by the mistress herself—the thin, jaundiced, malicious wife of the +priest; or the wife of the agent, a fat, old, wrinkled, malignant, greasy, +jealous and stingy common woman. Therefore, the simple business of preparing +the tea was now as difficult for her as it is difficult for all of us in +childhood to distinguish the left hand from the right, or to tie a rope in a +small noose. The bustling Lichonin only hindered her and threw her into +confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, the art of brewing tea is a great art. It ought to be studied at +Moscow. At first a dry teapot is slightly warmed up. Then the tea is put into +it and is quickly scalded with boiling water. The first liquid must at once be +poured off into the slop-bowl—the tea thus becomes purer and more aromatic; and +by the way, it’s also known that Chinamen are pagans and prepare their herb +very filthily. After that the tea-pot must be filled anew, up to a quarter of +its volume; left on the tray, covered over with a towel and kept so for three +and a half minutes. Afterwards pour in more boiling water almost up to the top, +cover it again, let it stay just a bit, and you have ready, my dear, a divine +beverage; fragrant, refreshing, and strengthening.” +</p> + +<p> +The homely, but pleasant-looking face of Liubka, all spotted from freckles, +like a cuckoo’s egg, lengthened and paled a little. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, for God’s sake, don’t you be angry at me ... You’re called Vassil +Vassilich, isn’t that so? Don’t get angry, darling Vassil Vassilich. Really, +now, I’ll learn fast, I’m quick. And why do you say you and you[19] to me all +the time? It seems that we aren’t strangers now?” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[19] In contradistinction to “thou,” as used to familiars and inferiors in +Russia.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him kindly. And truly, she had this morning, for the first time +in all her brief but distorted life, given her body to a man—even though +without enjoyment but more out of gratitude and pity, yet voluntarily—not for +money, not under compulsion, not under threat of dismissal and scandal. And her +feminine heart, always unwithering, always drawn to love, like a sunflower to +the sun, was at this moment pure and inclined to tenderness. +</p> + +<p> +But Lichonin suddenly felt a prickling, shameful awkwardness and something +inimical toward this woman, yesterday unknown to him, now—his chance mistress. +“The charms of the family hearth have begun,” he thought involuntarily; still, +he got up from his chair, walked up to Liubka, and having taken her by the +hand, drew her to him and patted her on the head. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, my darling sister,” he said touchingly and falsely; “that which has +happened to-day must never more be repeated. In everything only I alone am +guilty, and, if you desire, I am ready to beg forgiveness of you on my knees. +Understand—oh, understand, that all this came about against my will, somehow +elementally, suddenly, unexpectedly. And I myself didn’t think that it would be +like that! You understand, for a very long time ... I have not known woman +intimately ... A repulsive, unbridled beast awoke within me ... and ... But, +Lord, is my fault so great, then? Holy people, anchorites, recluses, ascetics, +stylites, hermits in deserts, are no match for me in fortitude of spirit—yet +even they fell in the struggle with the temptation of the diabolical flesh. But +then, I swear by whatever you wish, that this won’t be repeated any more ... +Isn’t that so?” +</p> + +<p> +Liubka was stubbornly trying to pull his hand away from hers. Her lips had +become a little stuck out and the lowered lids began to wink frequently. +</p> + +<p> +“Ye-es,” she drawled, like a child that stubbornly refuses to “make up.” “Well, +I can see that I don’t please you. Well, then, you’d best tell me so straight +and give me a little for a cab, and some more, now; as much as you want ... The +money for the night is paid anyway, and I only have to ride up to ... there.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin seized his hair, flung himself about the room and began to declaim: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, not that, not that, not that! Just understand me, Liuba! To go on with +that which happened in the morning—that’s ... that’s swinishness, bestiality, +and unworthy of a man who respects himself. Love! Love—this is a full blending +of minds, thoughts, souls, interests, and not of the bodies alone. Love is a +tremendous, great emotion, mighty as the universe, and not the sprawling in +bed. There’s no such love between us, Liubochka. If it’ll come, it will be +wonderful happiness both for you and for me. But in the meantime—I’m your +friend, your faithful comrade, on the path of life. And that’s enough, and that +will do ... And though I’m no stranger to human frailties, still, I count +myself an honest man.” +</p> + +<p> +Liubka seemed to wilt. “He thinks I want him to marry me. And I absolutely +don’t need that,” she thought sadly. “It’s possible to live just so. There are +others, now, living on maintenance. And, they say, far better than if they had +twirled around an altar. What’s so bad about that? Peaceful, quiet, genteel ... +I’d darn socks for him, wash floors, cook ... the plainer dishes. Of course, +he’ll be in line to get married to a rich girl some time. Well, now, to be +sure, he wouldn’t throw me out in the street just so, mother-naked. Although +he’s a little simpleton, and chatters a lot, still it’s easy to tell he’s a +decent man. He’ll provide for me with something, somehow. And, perhaps, he’ll +get to like me, will get used to me? I’m a simple girl, modest, and would never +consent to be false to him. For, they say, things do fall out that way ... Only +I mustn’t let him see anything. But that he’ll come again into my bed, and will +come this very night—that’s as sure as God is holy.” +</p> + +<p> +And Lichonin also fell into thought, grew quiet and sad; he was already feeling +the weight of a great deed which he had undertaken beyond his powers. That was +why he was even glad when some one knocked on the door, and to his answer, +“Come in!”, two students entered: Soloviev, and Nijeradze, who had slept that +night at his place. +</p> + +<p> +Soloviev, well-grown and already obese, with a broad, ruddy Volga face and a +light, scandent little beard, belonged to those kindly, merry and simple +fellows, of which there are sufficiently many in any university. He divided his +leisure—and of leisure he had twenty-four hours in the day—between the +beer-shop and rambling over the boulevards; among billiards, whist, the +theatre, reading of newspapers and novels, and the spectacles of circus +wrestling; while the short intervals in between he used for eating, sleeping, +the home repair of his wardrobe, with the aid of thread, cardboard, pins and +ink; and for succinct, most realistic love with the chance woman from the +kitchen, the anteroom or the street. Like all the youths of his circle, he +deemed himself a revolutionary, although he was oppressed by political +disputes, dissensions, and mutual reproaches; and not being able to stand the +reading of revolutionary brochures and journals, was almost a complete +ignoramus in the work For that reason he had not attained even the very least +party initiation; although at times there were given him instructions of a +sort, not at all of a safe nature, the meaning of which was not made clear to +him. And not in vain was his steadfast faithfulness relied upon; he carried out +everything rapidly, exactly,—with a courageous faith in the universal +importance of the work; with a care-free smile and with a broad contempt of +possible destruction. He concealed outlawed comrades, guarded forbidden +literature and printing types, transmitted passports and money. He had a great +deal of physical strength, black-loam amiability and elemental +simple-heartedness. Not infrequently he would receive from home, somewheres in +the depth of the Simbirskaya or Ufimskaya province, sums of money sufficiently +large for a student; but in two days he scattered and dispersed it everywhere, +with the carelessness of a French grandee of the seventeenth century, while he +himself remained during winter in only his everyday coat, with boots restored +by his own devices. +</p> + +<p> +Beside all these naive, touching, laughable, lofty and shiftless qualities of +the old Russian student, passing—and God knows if for the better?—into the +realm of historical memories, he possessed still another amazing ability—to +invent money and arrange for credit in little restaurants and cook-shops. All +the employees of pawnshops and loan offices, secret and manifest usurers, and +old-clo’-men were on terms of the closest friendship with him. +</p> + +<p> +But if for certain reasons he could not resort to them, then even here Soloviev +remained at the height of his resourcefulness. At the head of a knot of +impoverished friends, and weighed down with his usual business responsibility, +he would at times be illumined by an inner inspiration; make at a distance, +across the street, a mysterious sign to a Tartar passing with his bundle behind +his shoulders, and for a few seconds would disappear with him into the nearest +gates. He would quickly return without his everyday coat, only in his blouse +with the skirts outside, belted with a thin cord; or, in winter, without his +overcoat, in the thinnest of small suits; or instead of the new, just purchased +uniform cap—in a tiny jockey cap, holding by a miracle on the crown of his +head. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody loved him: comrades, servants, women, children. And all were familiar +with him. He enjoyed especial good-will from his bosom cronies, the Tartars, +who, apparently, deemed him a little innocent. They would sometimes, in the +summer, bring as a present the strong, intoxicating KOUMYSS in big quartern +bottles, while at Bairam they would invite him to eat a suckling colt with +them. No matter how improbable it may seem, still, Soloviev at critical moments +gave away for safe-keeping certain books and brochures to the Tartars. He would +say at this with the most simple and significant air: “That which I am giving +you is a Great Book. It telleth, that Allah Akbar, and that Mahomet is his +prophet, that there is much evil and poverty on earth, and that men must be +merciful and just to each other.” +</p> + +<p> +He also had two other abilities: he read aloud very well; and played at chess +amazingly, like a master, like a downright genius, defeating first-class +players in jest. His attack was always impetuous and rigorous; his defense wise +and cautious, preferably in an oblique direction; his concessions to his +opponent full of refined, far-sighted calculation and murderous craftiness. +With this, he made moves as though under the influence of some inner instinct, +or inspiration; not pondering for more than four or five seconds and resolutely +despising the respected traditions. +</p> + +<p> +He was not willingly played with; his manner of play was held barbarous, but +still they played, sometimes for large sums of money; which, invariably +winning, Soloviev readily laid down upon the altar of his comrades’ needs. But +he steadfastly declined from participation in competitions, which could have +created for him the position of a star in the world of chess: “There is in my +nature neither love for this nonsense, nor respect,” he would say. “I simply +possess some sort of a mechanical ability of the mind, some sort of a psychic +deformity. Well, now, just as there are lefties. And for that reason I’ve no +professional self-respect, nor pride at victory, nor spleen at losing.” +</p> + +<p> +Such was the generously built student Soloviev. And Nijeradze filled the post +of his closest comrade; which did not hinder them both, however, from jeering +at each other, disputing, and swearing, from morning till night. God knows, +wherewithal and how the Georgian prince existed. He said of himself, that he +possessed the ability of a camel, of nourishing himself for the future, for +several weeks ahead; and then eating nothing for a month. From home, from his +blessed Georgia, he received very little; and then, for the most part, in +victuals. At Christmas, at Easter, or on his birthday (in August) he was +sent—and inevitably through arriving fellow-countrymen—whole cargoes of hampers +with mutton, grapes, goat-flesh, sausages, dried hawthorn berries, RAKHAT +LOUKOUM, egg-plants, and very tasty cookies; as well as leathern bottles of +excellent home-made wine, strong and aromatic, but giving off just the least +bit of sheep-skin. Then the prince would summon together to one of his comrades +(he never had quarters of his own) all his near friends and fellow-countrymen; +and arranged such a magnificent festival—TOI in Caucasian—that at it were +extirpated to the last shreds the gifts of fertile Georgia. Georgian songs were +sung, the first place, of course, being given to MRAVOL-DJAMIEM and EVERY GUEST +IS SENT DOWN TO US FROM HEAVEN BY GOD, NO MATTER OF WHAT COUNTRY HE BE; the +LEZGINKA was danced without tiring, with table knives brandished wildly in the +air; and the TULUMBASH (or, perhaps, he is called TOMADA?) spoke his +improvisations; for the greater part Nijeradze himself spoke. +</p> + +<p> +He was a great hand at talking and could, when he warmed up, pronounce about +three hundred words a minute. His style was distinguished for mettle, pomp, and +imagery; and his Caucasian accent with characteristic lisping and throaty +sounds, resembling now the hawking of a woodcock, now the clucking of an eagle, +not only did not hinder his discourse, but somehow even strangely adorned it. +And no matter of what he spoke, he always led up the monologue to the most +beautiful, most fertile, the very foremost, most chivalrous, and at the same +time the most injured country—Georgia. And invariably he cited lines from THE +PANTHER’S SKIN of the Georgian poet Rustavelli; with assurances, that this poem +was a thousand times above all of Shakespeare, multiplied by Homer. +</p> + +<p> +Even though he was hot-headed, he was not spiteful; and in his demeanour +femininely soft, gentle, engaging, without losing his native pride ... One +thing only did his comrades dislike in him—some exaggerated, exotic love of +women. He was unshakably, unto sacredness or folly, convinced that he was +irresistibly splendid of person; that all men envied him, all women were in +love with him, while husbands were jealous ... This self-conceited, obtrusive +dangling after women did not forsake him for a minute, probably not even in his +sleep. Walking along the street he would every minute nudge Lichonin, Soloviev +or some other companion with his elbow, and would say, smacking his lips and +jerking his head backward at a woman who had passed by: “TSE, TSE, TSE... +VAI-VAI! A ree-markable wooman! What a look she gave me. If I wish it, she’ll +be mine! ...” +</p> + +<p> +This funny shortcoming about him was known; this trait of his was ridiculed +good-naturedly and unceremoniously, but willingly forgiven for the sake of that +independent comradely obligingness and faithfulness to his word, given to a man +(oaths to women did not count), of which he was so naturally possessed. +However, it must be said that he did in reality enjoy great success with women. +Sempstresses, modistes, chorus girls, girls in candy stores, and telephone +girls melted from the intense gaze of his heavy, soft, and languishing +dark-blue eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Un-to this house and all those righteously, peacefully and without sin +inhabiting it ...” Soloviev started in to vociferate like an arch-deacon and +suddenly missed fire. “Father-prelates,” he began to murmur in astonishment, +trying to continue the unsuccessful jest. “Why, but this is ... This is ... ah, +the devil ... this is Sonya, no, my mistake, Nadya ... Well, yes! Liubka from +Anna Markovna’s ...” +</p> + +<p> +Liubka blushed hotly, to the verge of tears, and covered her face with her +palms. Lichonin noticed this, understood, sensed the thoroughly agitated soul +of the girl, and came to her aid. He sternly, almost rudely, stopped Soloviev. +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly correct, Soloviev. As in a directory. Liubka from the Yamkas. +Formerly a prostitute. Even more, still yesterday a prostitute. But from +to-day—my friend, my sister. And so let everyone, who respects me to any +extent, regard her. Otherwise...” +</p> + +<p> +The ponderous Soloviev hurriedly, sincerely, and powerfully embraced and +rumpled Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, dear fellow, well, that’s enough ... I committed a stupidity in the +flurry. It won’t be repeated any more. Hail, my pale-faced sister.” He extended +his hand with a broad sweep across the table to Liubka, and squeezed her +listless, small and short fingers with gnawed, tiny nails. “It’s fine—your +coming into our modest wigwam. This will refresh us and implant in our midst +quiet and decent customs. Alexandra! Be-er!” he began to call loudly. “We’ve +grown wild, coarse; have become mired in foul speech, drunkenness, laziness and +other vices. And all because we were deprived of the salutary, pacifying +influence of feminine society. Once again I press your hand. Your charming, +little hand. Beer!” +</p> + +<p> +“Coming,” the displeased voice of Alexandra could be heard on the other side of +the door. “I’m coming. What you yelling for? How much do you want?” +</p> + +<p> +Soloviev went out into the corridor to explain. Lichonin smiled after him +gratefully; while the Georgian on his way slapped him benignly on the back, +between his shoulder blades. Both understood and appreciated the belated, +somewhat coarse delicacy of Soloviev. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said Soloviev, coming back into the room and sitting down cautiously +upon an ancient chair, “now let’s come to the order of the day. Can I be of +service to you in any way? If you’ll give me half an hour’s time, I’ll run down +to the coffee house for a minute and lick the guts out of the very best chess +player there. In a word—I’m at your disposal!” +</p> + +<p> +“What a funny fellow you are!” said Liubka, ill at ease and laughing. She did +not understand the jocose and unusual style of speech of the student, but +something drew her simple heart to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s not at all necessary,” Lichonin put in. “I am as yet beastly +rich. I think we’ll all go together to some little tavern somewhere. I must +have your advice about some things. After all, you’re the people closest to me; +and of course not as stupid and inexperienced as you seem at first glance. +After that, I’ll go and try to arrange about her ... about Liuba’s passport. +You wait for me. That won’t take long ... In a word, you understand what this +whole business consists of, and won’t be lavish of any superfluous jokes. +I,”—his voice quivered sentimentally and falsely—“I desire that you take upon +yourselves a part of my care. Is that a go?” +</p> + +<p> +“VA! It’s a go!” exclaimed the prince (it sounded like “idiot,” when he said +it[20]), and for some reason looked significantly at Liubka and twirled his +moustache. Lichonin gave him a sidelong look. As for Soloviev, he said +simple-heartedly: +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[20] The Russian phrase is “Eedet!”—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the way. You’ve begun something big and splendid, Lichonin. The prince +told me about it during the night. Well, what of it, that’s what youth is +for—to commit sacred follies. Give me the bottle, Alexandra, I’ll open it +myself, or else you’ll rupture yourself and burst a vein. To a new life, +Liubochka, pardon me ... Liubov ... Liubov ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Nikonovna. But call me just as it comes ... Liuba.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, Liuba. Prince, ALLAHVERDI!” +</p> + +<p> +“YAKSHI-OL,” answered Nijeradze and clinked his glass of beer with him. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’ll also say, that I rejoice over you, friend Lichonin,” continued +Soloviev, setting down his glass and licking his moustache. “Rejoice, and bow +before you. It’s precisely you, only, who are capable of such a genuinely +Russian heroism, expressed simply, modestly, without superfluous words.” +</p> + +<p> +“Drop it ... Well, where’s the heroism?” Lichonin made a wry face. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true, too,” confirmed Nijeradze. “You’re reproaching me all the time +that I chatter a lot, but see what nonsense you’re spouting yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“That makes no difference!” retorted Soloviev. “It may be even grandiloquent, +but still that makes no difference! As an elder of our garret commune, I +declare Liuba an honourable member with full rights!” He got up, made a +sweeping gesture with his hand, and uttered with pathos: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“And into our house, free and fearless,<br/> +Its charming mistress walk thou in!” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin recalled vividly, that to-day at dawn he had spoken the very same +phrase, like an actor; and even blinked his eyes from shame. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s enough of tom-foolery. Let’s go, gentlemen. Dress yourself, Liuba.” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0214"></a> CHAPTER XIV.</h3> + +<p> +It was not far to The Sparrows restaurant; some two hundred steps. On the way +Liuba, unnoticed, took Lichonin by the sleeve and pulled him toward her. In +this wise they lagged a few steps behind Soloviev and Nijeradze, who were +walking ahead. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you mean it seriously, my darling Vassil Vassilich?” she asked, looking +up at him with her kindly, dark eyes. “You’re not playing a joke on me?” +</p> + +<p> +“What jokes can there be here, Liubochka! I’d be the lowest of men if I +permitted myself such jokes. I repeat, that to you I am more than a friend, +brother, comrade. And let’s not talk about it any more. And that which happened +to-day toward morning, that, you may be sure, won’t be repeated. And I’ll rent +a separate room for you this very day.” +</p> + +<p> +Liubka sighed. Not that she was offended by the chaste resolution of Lichonin, +in which, to tell the truth, she believed but badly; but somehow her dark, +narrow mind could not even theoretically picture any other attitude of a man +toward a woman than the sensual. Besides that, she experienced the ancient +discontent of a preferred or rejected female; a feeling strongly intrenched in +the house of Anna Markovna, in the form of boastful rivalry, but now dulled; +yet still angry and sincere. And for some reason she believed Lichonin but +illy, unconsciously seizing much of the assumed, not altogether sincere, in his +words. Soloviev, now—although he did speak incomprehensively, like the rest of +the majority of the students known to her, when they joked among themselves or +with the young ladies in the general room (by themselves, in the room, all the +men without an exception—all as one—said and did one and the same thing)—she +would rather believe Soloviev, far more readily and willingly. A certain +simplicity shone in his merry, sparkling gray eyes, placed widely apart. +</p> + +<p> +At THE SPARROWS Lichonin was esteemed for his sedateness, kind disposition, and +accuracy in money matters. Because of that he was at once assigned a little +private room—an honour of which but very few students could boast. The gas +burned all day in this room, because light penetrated only through the narrow +bottom of a window, cut short by the ceiling. Only the boots, shoes, umbrellas +and canes of the people walking by on the sidewalk could be seen through this +window. +</p> + +<p> +They had to let still another student, Simanovsky (whom they ran against near +the coat room), join the party. “What does he mean, by leading me around as +though for a show?” thought Liubka: “it looks like he’s showing off before +them.” And, snatching a free moment, she whispered to Lichonin, who had bent +over her: +</p> + +<p> +“But why are there so many people, dearie? For I’m so bashful. I can’t hold my +own in company.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s nothing, that’s nothing, my dear Liubochka,” Lichonin whispered +rapidly, tarrying at the door of the cabinet. “That’s nothing, my sister; these +are all fine people, good comrades. They’ll help you, help us both. Don’t mind +their having fun at times and their silly lying. But their hearts are of gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s so very awkward for me; I’m ashamed. All of them already know where +you took me from.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s nothing, that’s nothing! Why, let ’em know!” warmly contradicted +Lichonin. “Why be embarrassed with your past, why try to pass it by in silence? +In a year you’ll look bravely and directly in the eyes of every man and you’ll +say: ‘He who has never fallen, has never gotten up.’ Come on, come on, +Liubochka!” +</p> + +<p> +While the inelaborate appetizers were being served, and each one was ordering +the meal, everybody, save Simanovsky, felt ill at ease and somehow constrained. +And Simanovsky himself was partly the reason for this; he was a clean-shaven +man, with pince-nez and long hair, with head proudly thrown back and with a +contemptuous expression on the tight lips, drooping at the corners. He had no +intimate, hearty friends among his comrades; but his opinions and judgments had +a considerable authoritativeness among them. It is doubtful whether any one of +them could explain to himself whence this influence came; whether from his +self-assured appearance, his ability to seize and express in general words the +dismembered and indistinct things which are dimly sought and desired by the +majority, or because he always saved his conclusions for the most appropriate +moment. Among any society there are many of this sort of people: some of them +act upon their circle through sophistries; others through adamant, unalterable +stead-fastness of convictions; a third group with a loud mouth; a fourth, +through a malicious sneer; a fifth, simply by silence, which compels the +supposition of profound thought behind it; a sixth, through a chattering, +outward erudition; others still through a slashing sneer at everything that is +said ... many with the terrible Russian word YERUNDA: +“Fiddlesticks!”—“Fiddlesticks!” they say contemptuously in reply to the warm, +sincere, probably truthful but clumsily put word. “But why fiddlesticks?” +“Because it’s twaddle, nonsense,” answer they, shrugging their shoulders; and +it is as though they did for a man by hitting him with a stone over the head. +There are many more sorts of such people, bearing the bell at the head of the +meek, the shy, the nobly modest, and often even the big minds; and to their +number did Simanovsky belong. +</p> + +<p> +However, toward the middle of the dinner everybody’s tongue became +loosened—except Liubka’s, who kept silent, answered “yes” and “no”, and left +her food practically untouched. Lichonin, Soloviev, and Nijeradze talked most +of all. The first, in a decisive and business-like manner, trying to hide under +the solicitous words something real, inward, prickling and inconvenient. +Soloviev, with a puerile delight, with the most sweeping of gestures, hitting +the table with his fist. Nijeradze, with a slight doubtfulness and with +unfinished phrases, as though he knew that which must be said, but concealed +it. The queer fate of the girl, however, had seemingly engrossed, interested +them all; and each one, in expressing his opinion, for some reason inevitably +turned to Simanovsky. But he kept his counsel for the most part, and looked at +each one from under the glasses of his pince-nez, raising his head high to do +so. +</p> + +<p> +“So, so, so,” he said at last, drumming with his fingers upon the table. “What +Lichonin has done is splendid and brave. And that the prince and Soloviev are +going to meet him half-way is also very good. I, for my part, am ready to +co-operate with your beginnings with whatever lies in my power. But will it not +be better, if we lead our friend along the path of her natural inclinations and +abilities, so to speak? Tell me, my dear,” he turned to Liubka, “what do you +know, what can you do? Well, now, some kind of work, or something. Sewing, +knitting, embroidering or something.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know anything,” said Liubka in a whisper, letting her eyes drop low, +all red, squeezing her fingers under the table. “I don’t understand anything of +this.” +</p> + +<p> +“And really, now,” interposed Lichonin; “why, we haven’t begun the business +from the right end. By talking about her in her presence we merely place her in +an awkward position. Just see—even her tongue doesn’t move from confusion. +Let’s go, Liubka, I’ll escort you home for just a little while, and return in +ten minutes. And in the meanwhile we’ll think over ways and means here, without +you. All right?” +</p> + +<p> +“As for me, I don’t mind,” almost inaudibly answered Liubka. “I’ll do just as +you like, Vassil Vassilich. Only I wouldn’t like to go home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why so?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s awkward for me there alone. I’d best wait for you on the boulevard, at +the very entrance, on a bench.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, yes!” Lichonin recollected: “It’s Alexandra who has inspired her with such +a terror. My, but I’ll make it hot for this old lizard! Well, let’s go, +Liubochka.” +</p> + +<p> +She timidly, in some sidelong way, put out her hand to each one, folding it +like a little spade; and walked out under the escort of Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +After several minutes he returned and sat down at his place. He felt that +something had been said about him during his absence, and he ran his eyes +uneasily over his comrades. Then, putting his hands on the table, he began: +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, I know that you’re all good, close friends,” he gave a quick and +sidelong look at Simanovsky, “and responsive people. I heartily beg of you to +come to my aid. The deed was done by me in a hurry—this I must confess—but done +through a sincere, pure inclination of the heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that’s the main thing,” put in Soloviev. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s absolutely all one to me what acquaintances and strangers will begin +saying about me; but from my intention to save—pardon the fool word, which +slipped out—to encourage, to sustain this girl, I will not decline. Of course, +I’m able to rent an inexpensive, small room for her; to give her something for +board at first; but what’s to be done further—that’s what presents difficulties +to me. The matter, of course, isn’t one of money, which I’d always find for +her; but, then, to compel her to eat, drink, and with all that to do +nothing—that would mean to condemn her to idleness, indifference, apathy; and +you know what the end will be then. Therefore, we must think of some occupation +for her. And that’s the very matter which we must exert our brains about. Make +an effort, gentlemen; advise something.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must know what she’s fitted for,” said Simanovsky. “For she must have been +doing something before getting into the house.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin, with an air of hopelessness, spread out his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Almost nothing. She can sew just the least bit, just like any country lass. +Why, she wasn’t fifteen when some government clerk led her astray. She can +sweep up a room, wash a little, and, if you will, cook cabbage soup and +porridge. Nothing more, it seems.” +</p> + +<p> +“Rather little,” said Simanovsky, and clacked his tongue. +</p> + +<p> +“And in addition to that, she’s illiterate as well.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that’s not at all important!” warmly defended Soloviev. “If we had to do +with a well-educated girl, or, worse still, with a half-educated one, then only +nonsense would result out of all that we’re preparing to do, a mere +soap-bubble; while here before us is maiden ground, untouched virgin soil.” +</p> + +<p> +“He-ee!” Nijeradze started neighing equivocally. +</p> + +<p> +Soloviev, now no longer joking, but with real wrath, pounced upon him: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, prince! Every holy thought, every good deed, can be made disgusting, +obscene. There’s nothing clever or worthy in that. If you regard that which +we’re preparing to do so like a stallion, then there’s the door and God be with +you. Go away from us!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but you yourself just now in the room ...” retorted the prince in +confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I too,” Soloviev at once softened and cooled down. “I popped out with a +stupidity and I regret it. But now I willingly admit that Lichonin is a fine +fellow and a splendid man; and I’m ready to do everything, for my part. And I +repeat, that knowledge of reading and writing is a secondary matter. It is easy +to attain it in play. For such an untouched mind to learn reading, writing, +counting, and especially without school, of one’s free will, is like biting a +nut in two. And as far as a manual trade is concerned, through which it would +be possible to live and earn one’s keep, then there are hundreds of trades, +which can be easily mastered in two weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“For instance?” asked the prince. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, for instance ... for instance ... well, now, for instance, making +artificial flowers. Yes, and still better, to get a place as a flower clerk. A +charming business, clean and nice.” +</p> + +<p> +“Taste is necessary,” Simanovsky dropped carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +“There are no inborn tastes, as well as abilities. Otherwise talents would be +born only in refined, highly educated society; while artists would be born only +to artists, and singers to singers; but we don’t see this. However, I won’t +argue. Well, if not a flower girl, then something else. I, for instance, saw +not long ago in a store show window a miss sitting, and some sort of a little +machine with foot-power before her.” +</p> + +<p> +“V-VA! Again a little machine!” said the prince, smiling and looking at +Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop it, Nijeradze,” answered Lichonin, quietly but sternly. “You ought to be +ashamed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Blockhead!” Soloviev threw at him, and continued. +</p> + +<p> +“So, then, the machine moves back and forth, while upon it, on a square frame, +is stretched a thin canvas, and really, I don’t know how it’s contrived, I +didn’t grasp it; only the miss guides some metallic thingamajig over the +screen, and there comes out a fine drawing in vari-coloured silks. Just +imagine, a lake, all grown over with pond-lilies with their white corollas and +yellow stamens, and great green leaves all around. And on the water two white +swans are floating toward each other, and in the background is a dark park with +an alley; and all this shows finely, distinctly, as on a picture from life. And +I became so interested that I went in on purpose to find out how much it costs. +It proved to be just the least bit dearer than an ordinary sewing machine, and +it’s sold on terms. And any one who can sew a little on a common machine can +learn this art in an hour. And there’s a great number of charming original +designs. And the main thing is that such work is very readily taken for +fire-screens, albums, lamp-shades, curtains and other rubbish, and the pay is +decent.” +</p> + +<p> +“After all, that’s a sort of a trade, too,” agreed Lichonin, and stroked his +beard in meditation. “But, to confess, here’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to +open up for her ... to open up a little cook-shop or dining room, the very +tiniest to start with, of course, but one in which all the food is cheap, clean +and tasty. For it’s absolutely all the same to many students where they dine +and what they eat. There are almost never enough places to go round in the +students’ dining room. And so we may succeed, perhaps, in pulling in all our +acquaintances and friends, somehow.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” said the prince, “but impractical as well; we’ll begin to board +on credit. And you know what accurate payers we are. A practical man, a knave, +is needed for such an undertaking; and if a woman, then one with a pike’s +teeth; and even then a man must absolutely stick right at her back. Really, +it’s not for Lichonin to stand at the counter and to watch that somebody +shouldn’t suddenly wine and dine and slip away.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin looked straight at him, insolently, but only set his jaws and let it +pass in silence. +</p> + +<p> +Simanovsky began in his measured, incontrovertible tone, toying with the +glasses of his PINCE-NEZ: +</p> + +<p> +“Your intention is splendid, gentlemen, beyond dispute. But have you turned +your attention to a certain shady aspect, so to speak? For to open a dining +room, to start some business—all this in the beginning demands money, +assistance—somebody else’s back, so to speak. The money is not grudged—that is +true, I agree with Lichonin; but then, does not such a beginning of an +industrious life, when every step is provided for—does it not lead to +inevitable laxity and negligence, and, in the very end, to an indifferent +disdain for business? Even a child does not learn to walk until it has flopped +down some fifty times. No; if you really want to help this poor girl, you must +give her a chance of getting on her feet at once, like a toiling being, and not +like a drone. True, there is a great temptation here—the burden of labour, +temporary need; but then, if she will surmount this, she will surmount the rest +as well.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, then, according to you, is she to become—a dish-washer?” asked Soloviev +with unbelief. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes,” calmly retorted Simanovsky. “A dish-washer, a laundress, a cook. +All toil elevates a human being.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Words of gold. Wisdom itself speaks with your lips, Simanovsky. Dish-washer, +cook, maid, housekeeper ... but, in the first place, it’s doubtful if she’s +capable for that; in the second place, she has already been a maid and has +tasted all the sweets of masters’ bawlings out, and masters’ pinches behind +doors, in the corridor. Tell me, is it possible you don’t know that ninety per +cent, of prostitution is recruited from the number of female servants? And, +therefore, poor Liuba, at the very first injustice, at the first rebuff, will +the more easily and readily go just there where I have gotten her out of; if +not even worse, because for her that’s customary and not so frightful; and, +perhaps, it will even seem desirable after the masters’ treatment. And besides +that, is it worth while for me—that is, I want to say—is it worth while for all +of us, to go to so much trouble, to try so hard and put ourselves out so, if, +after having saved a being from one slavery, we only plunge her into another?” +</p> + +<p> +“Right,” confirmed Soloviev. +</p> + +<p> +“Just as you wish,” drawled Simanovsky with a disdainful air. +</p> + +<p> +“But as far as I’m concerned,” said the prince, “I’m ready, as a friend and a +curious man, to be present at this experiment and to participate in it. But +even this morning I warned you, that there have been such experiments before +and that they have always ended in ignominious failure, at least those of which +we know personally; while those of which we know only by hearsay are dubious as +regards authenticity. But you have begun the business—and go on with it. We are +your helpers.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin struck the table with his palm. +</p> + +<p> +“No!” he exclaimed stubbornly. “Simanovsky is partly right concerning the great +danger of a person’s being led in leading strings. But I don’t see any other +way out. In the beginning I’ll help her with room and board... find some easy +work, buy the necessary accessories for her. Let be what may! And let us do +everything in order to educate her mind a little; and that her heart and soul +are beautiful, of that I am sure. I’ve no grounds for the faith, but I am sure, +I almost know. Nijeradze! Don’t clown!” he cried abruptly, growing pale, “I’ve +restrained myself several times already at your fool pranks. I have until now +held you as a man of conscience and feeling. One more inappropriate witticism, +and I’ll change my opinion of you; and know, that it’s forever.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, I didn’t mean anything... Really, I... Why go all up in the air, me +soul? You don’t like that I’m a gay fellow, well, I’ll be quiet. Give me your +hand, Lichonin, let’s drink!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, all right, get away from me. Here’s to your health! Only don’t behave +like a little boy, you Ossetean ram. Well, then, I continue, gentlemen. If we +find anything which might satisfy the just opinion of Simanovsky about the +dignity of independent toil, unsustained by anything, then I shall stick to my +system: to teach Liuba whatever is possible, to take her to the theatre, to +expositions, to popular lectures, to museums; to read aloud to her, give her +the possibility of hearing music—comprehensible music, of course. It’s +understood, I alone won’t be able to manage all this. I expect help from you; +and after that, whatever God may will.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well,” said Simanovsky, “the work is new, not threadbare; and how can we +know the unknowable—perhaps you, Lichonin, will become the spiritual father of +a good being. I, too, offer my services.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I! And I!” the other two seconded; and right there, without getting up +from the table, the four students worked out a very broad and very wondrous +program of education and enlightenment for Liubka. +</p> + +<p> +Soloviev took upon himself to teach the girl grammar and writing. In order not +to tire her with tedious lessons, and as a reward for successes, he would read +aloud for her artistic fiction, Russian and foreign, easy of comprehension. +Lichonin left for himself the teaching of arithmetic, geography and history. +</p> + +<p> +While the prince said simple-heartedly, without his usual facetiousness this +time: +</p> + +<p> +“I, my children, don’t know anything; while that which I do know, I know very +badly. But I’ll read to her the remarkable production of the great Georgian +poet Rustavelli, and translate it line by line. I confess to you, that I’m not +much of a pedagogue: I tried to be a tutor, but they politely chased me out +after only the second lesson. Still, no one can teach better playing on a +guitar, mandolin, and the bagpipes!” +</p> + +<p> +Nijeradze was speaking with perfect seriousness, and for that reason Lichonin +with Soloviev good-naturedly started laughing; but with entire unexpectedness, +to the general amazement of all, Simanovsky sustained him. +</p> + +<p> +“The prince speaks common sense. To have the mastery of an instrument elevates +the aesthetic sense, in any case; and is even a help in life. And I, for my +part, gentlemen ... I propose to read with the young person the CAPITAL of +Marx, and the history of human culture. And to take up chemistry and physics +with her, besides.” +</p> + +<p> +If it were not for the customary authority of Simanovsky and the importance +with which he spoke, the remaining three would have burst into laughter in his +face. They only stared at him, with eyes popping out. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes,” continued Simanovsky imperturbably, “I’ll show her a whole series +of chemical and physical experiments, which it is possible to carry on at home; +which are always amusing and beneficial to the mind; and which eradicate +prejudices. Incidentally, I’ll explain something of the structure of the world, +of the properties of matter. And as far as Karl Marx is concerned, just +remember, that great books are equally accessible to the understanding both of +a scholar and an unlettered peasant, if only comprehensibly presented. And +every great thought is simple.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin found Liubka at the place agreed upon, on a bench of the boulevard. +She went home with him very unwillingly. Just as Lichonin had supposed, meeting +the grumbling Alexandra was a fearful thing to her, who had long since grown +unused to every-day actuality; harsh, and plentiful with all sorts of +unpleasantnesses. And besides that, the fact that Lichonin did not want to +conceal her past acted oppressively upon her. But she, who had long ago lost +her will in the establishment of Anna Markovna, deprived of her personality, +ready to follow after the call of every stranger, did not tell him a word and +walked after him. +</p> + +<p> +The crafty Alexandra had already managed during this time to run to the +superintendent of the houses and to complain to him, that, now, Lichonin had +come with some miss, had passed the night with her in the room; but who she is, +that Alexandra don’t know; that Lichonin says she is his first cousin, like; +but did not present a passport. It was necessary to explain things at great +length, diffusedly and tiresomely, to the superintendent, a coarse and insolent +man, who bore himself to all the tenants in the house as toward a conquered +city; and feared only the students slightly, because they gave him a severe +rebuff at times. Lichonin propitiated him only when he rented on the spot +another room, several rooms away from his, for Liubka; under the very slope of +the roof, so that it represented on the inside a sharply cut-off, low, +four-sided pyramid, with one little window. +</p> + +<p> +“But still, Mr. Lichonin, just you present the passport to-morrow without +fail,” said the superintendent insistently at parting. “Since you’re a +respectable man, hard-working, and you and I are long acquainted, also you pay +punctually, I am willing to do it only for you. You know yourself what hard +times these are. If some one tells on me, they’ll not only fire me, but they +can put me out of town as well. They’re strict now.” +</p> + +<p> +In the evening Lichonin strolled with Liubka through Prince Park, listened to +the music playing in the aristocratic club, and returned home early. He +escorted Liubka to the door of her room and at once took leave of her; kissing +her, however, tenderly on the brow, like a father. But after ten minutes, when +he was already lying in bed undressed and reading the statutes of state, +Liubka, having scratched on his door like a cat, suddenly entered his room. +</p> + +<p> +“Darling, sweetie! Excuse me for troubling you. Haven’t you a needle and +thread? But don’t get angry at me; I’ll go away at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Liuba! I beg of you to go away not at once, but this second. Finally, I demand +it!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dearie, my pretty,” Liubka began to intone laughably and piteously, “well, +what are you yelling at me for all the time?” and, in a moment, having blown +upon the candle, she nestled up to him in the darkness, laughing and crying. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Liuba, this must not be. It’s impossible to go on like this,” Lichonin was +saying ten minutes later, standing at the door, wrapped up in his blanket, like +a Spanish hidalgo in a cape. “To-morrow at the latest I’ll rent a room for you +in another house. And, in general, don’t let this occur! God be with you, and +good night! Still, you must give me your word of honour that our relations will +be merely friendly.” +</p> + +<p> +“I give it, dearie, I give it, I give it, I give it!” she began to prattle, +smiling; and quickly smacked him first on the lips and then on his hand. +</p> + +<p> +The last action was altogether instinctive; and, perhaps, unexpected even to +Liubka herself. Never yet in her life had she kissed any man’s hand, save a +priest’s. Perhaps she wanted to express through this her gratitude to Lichonin, +and a prostration before him as before a higher being. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0215"></a> CHAPTER XV.</h3> + +<p> +Among Russian intelligents, as has already been noted by many, there is a +decent quantity of wonderful people; true children of the Russian land and +culture, who would be able heroically, without the quivering of a single +muscle, to look straight in the face of death; who are capable for the sake of +an idea of bearing unconceivable privations and sufferings, equal to torture; +but then, these people are lost before the haughtiness of a doorman; shrink +from the yelling of a laundress; while into a police station they enter in an +insufferable and timid distress. And precisely such a one was Lichonin. On the +following day (yesterday it had been impossible on account of a holiday and the +lateness), having gotten up very early and recollecting that to-day he had to +take care of Liubka’s passport, he felt just as bad as when in former times, as +a high-school boy, he went to an examination, knowing that he would surely fall +through. His head ached, while his arms and legs somehow seemed another’s; in +addition, a drizzling and seemingly dirty rain had been falling on the street +since morning. “Always, now, when there’s some unpleasantness in store, there +is inevitably a rain falling,” reflected Lichonin, dressing slowly. +</p> + +<p> +It was not especially far from his street to the Yamskaya, not more than +two-thirds of a mile. In general, he was not infrequently in those parts, but +he had never had occasion to go there in the daytime; and on the way it seemed +to him all the time that every one he met, every cabby and policeman, was +looking at him with curiosity, with reproach, or with disdain, as though +surmising the destination of his journey. As always on a nasty and muggy +morning, all the faces that met his eyes seemed pale, ugly, with monstrously +underlined defects. Scores of times he imagined all that he would say in the +beginning at the house; and later at the station house; and every time the +outcome was different. Angry at himself for this premature rehearsal, he would +at times stop himself: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! You mustn’t think, you mustn’t presuppose what you’re going to say. It +always turns out far better when it’s done right off...” +</p> + +<p> +And then again imaginary dialogues would run through his head: +</p> + +<p> +“You have no right to hold this girl against her wish.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but let her herself give notice about going away.” +</p> + +<p> +“I act at her instruction.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right; but how can you prove this?” and again he would mentally cut +himself short. +</p> + +<p> +The city common began, on which cows were browsing; a board sidewalk along a +fence; shaky little bridges over little brooklets and ditches. Then he turned +into the Yamskaya. In the house of Anna Markovna all the windows were closed +with shutters, with openings, in the form of hearts, cut out in the middle. And +all of the remaining houses on the deserted street, desolated as though after a +pestilence, were closed as well. With a contracting heart Lichonin pulled the +bell-handle. +</p> + +<p> +A maid, barefooted, with skirt caught up, with a wet rag in her hand, with face +striped from dirt, answered the bell—she had just been washing the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to see Jennka,” timidly requested Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, the young lady is busy with a guest. They haven’t waked up yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Tamara then.” +</p> + +<p> +The maid looked at him mistrustfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Tamara—I don’t know... I think she’s busy too. But what you want—to pay a +visit, or what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, isn’t it all the same! A visit, let’s say.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I’ll go and look. Wait a while.” +</p> + +<p> +She went away, leaving Lichonin in the half-dark drawing room. The blue pillars +of dust, coming from the openings in the shutters, pierced the heavy obscurity +in all directions. Like hideous spots stood out of the gray murkiness the +bepainted furniture and the sweetish oleographs on the walls. It smelt of +yesterday’s tobacco, of dampness, sourness; and of something else peculiar, +indeterminate, uninhabited, of which places that are lived in only temporarily +always smell in the morning—such as empty theatres, dance-halls, auditoriums. +Far off in the city a droshky rumbled intermittently. The wall-clock +monotonously ticked behind the wall. In a strange agitation Lichonin walked +back and forth through the drawing room and rubbed and kneaded his trembling +hands, and for some reason was stooping and felt cold. +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t have started all this false comedy,” he thought with irritation. +“It goes without saying that I’ve now become the by-word of the entire +university. The devil nudged me! And even during the day yesterday it wasn’t +too late, when she was saying that she was ready to go back. All I had to do +was to give her for a cabby and a little pin money, and she’d have gone, and +all would have been fine; and I would be independent now, free, and wouldn’t be +undergoing this tormenting and ignominious state of spirits. But it’s too late +to retreat now. To-morrow it’ll be still later, and the day after +to-morrow—still more. Having pulled off one fool stunt, it must be immediately +put a stop to; but on the other hand, if you don’t do that in time, it draws +two others after it, and they—twenty new ones. Or, perhaps, it’s not too late +now? Why, she’s silly, undeveloped, and, probably, a hysteric, like the rest of +them. She’s an animal, fit only for stuffing herself and for the bed. Oh! The +devil!” Lichonin forcefully squeezed his cheeks and his forehead between his +hands and shut his eyes. “And if I had but held out against the common, coarse, +physical temptation! There, you see for yourself, this has happened twice +already; and then it’ll go on and on ...” +</p> + +<p> +But side by side with these ran other thoughts, opposed to them: +</p> + +<p> +“But then, I’m a man. I am master of my word. For that which urged me on to +this deed was splendid, noble, lofty. I remember very well that rapture which +seized me when my thought transpired into action! That was a pure, tremendous +feeling. Or was it simply an extravagance of the mind, whipped up by alcohol; +the consequence of a sleepless night, smoking, and long, abstract +conversations?” +</p> + +<p> +And immediately Liubka would appear before him, appear at a distance, as though +out of the misty depths of time; awkward, timid, with her homely and endearing +face, which had at once come to seem of infinitely close kinship; long, long +familiar, and at the same time unpleasant—unjustly, without cause. +</p> + +<p> +“Can it be that I’m a coward and a rag?” cried Lichonin inwardly and wrung his +hands. “What am I afraid of, before whom am I embarrassed? Have I not always +prided myself upon being sole master of my life? Let’s suppose, even, that the +phantasy, the extravagance, of making a psychological experiment upon a human +soul—a rare experiment, unsuccessful in ninety-nine percent—has entered my +head. Is it possible that I must render anybody an account in this, or fear +anybody’s opinion? Lichonin! Look down upon mankind from above!” +</p> + +<p> +Jennie walked into the room, dishevelled, sleepy, in a night jacket on top of a +white underskirt. +</p> + +<p> +“A-a!” she yawned, extending her hand to Lichonin. “How d’you do, my dear +student! How does your Liubochka feel herself in the new place? Call me in as a +guest some time. Or are you spending your honeymoon on the quiet? Without any +outside witnesses?” +</p> + +<p> +“Drop the silly stuff, Jennechka. I came about the passport.” +</p> + +<p> +“So-o. About the passport,” Jennka went into thought. “That is, there’s no +passport here, but you must take a blank from the housekeeper. You understand, +our usual prostitute’s blank; and then they’ll exchange it for you for a real +book at the station house. Only you see, my dear, I will be but ill help to you +in this business. They are as like as not to beat me up if I come near a +housekeeper or a porter. But here’s what you do. You’d best send the maid for +the housekeeper; tell her to say that a certain guest, now, a steady one, has +come on business; that it’s very urgent to see her personally. But you must +excuse me—I’m going to back out, and don’t you be angry, please. You know +yourself—charity begins at home. But why should you hang around by yourself in +this here darkness? You’d better go into the cabinet. If you want to, I’ll send +you beer there. Or, perhaps you want coffee? Or else,” and her eyes sparkled +slyly, “or else a girlie, perhaps? Tamara is busy, but may be Niura or Verka +will do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop it, Jennie! I came about a serious and important matter, but you ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, I won’t, I won’t! I said it just so. I see that you observe +faithfulness. That’s very noble on your part. Let’s go, then.” +</p> + +<p> +She led him into the cabinet, and, opening the inner bolt of the shutter, threw +it wide open. The daylight softly and sadly splashed against the red and gold +walls, over the candelabra, over the soft red velveteen furniture. +</p> + +<p> +“Right here it began,” reflected Lichonin with sad regret. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going,” said Jennka. “Don’t you knuckle down too much before her, and +Simeon too. Abuse them for all you’re worth. It’s daytime now, and they won’t +dare do anything to you. If anything happens, tell them straight that, now, +you’re going to the governor immediately and are going to tell on them. Tell +’em, that they’ll be closed up and put out of town in twenty-four hours. Bawl +’em out and they get like silk. Well, now, I wish you success.” +</p> + +<p> +She went away. After ten minutes had passed, into the cabinet floated Emma +Edwardovna, the housekeeper, in a blue satin PEGNOIR; corpulent, with an +important face, broadening from the forehead down to the cheeks, just like a +monstrous squash; with all her massive chins and breasts; with small, keen +eyes, without eyelashes; with thin, malicious, compressed lips. Lichonin, +arising, pressed the puffy hand extended to him, studded with rings, and +suddenly thought with aversion: +</p> + +<p> +“The devil take it! If this vermin had a soul, if it were possible to read this +soul—then how many direct and indirect murders are lurking hidden within it!” +</p> + +<p> +It must be said, that in starting out for the Yamkas, Lichonin, besides money, +had fetched a revolver along with him; and on the road, while walking, he had +frequently shoved his hand into his pocket and had there felt the chill contact +of the metal. He expected affront, violence, and was prepared to meet them in a +suitable manner. But, to his amazement, all that he had presupposed and had +feared proved a timorous, fantastic fiction. The business was far more simple, +more wearisome and more prosaic, and at the same time more unpleasant. +</p> + +<p> +“JA, MEIN HERR,” said the housekeeper indifferently and somewhat loftily, +settling into a low chair and lighting a cigarette. “You pay for one night and +instead of that took already the girl for one more night and one more day. +ALSO, you owe twenty-five more roubles yet. When we let off a girlie for a +night we take ten roubles, and for the twenty-four hours twenty-five roubles. +That’s a tax, like. Don’t you want a smoke, young man?” she stretched out her +case, and Lichonin, without himself knowing why, took a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to talk with you about something else entirely.” +</p> + +<p> +“O! Don’t trouble yourself to speak: I understand everything very well. +Probably the young man wants to take these girl, those Liubka, altogether to +himself to set her up, or in order to—how do you Russians call it?—in order to +safe her? Yes, yes, yes, that happens. Twenty-two years I live in a brothel, +and I know, that this happens with very foolish young peoples. But only I +assure you, that from this will come nothing out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whether it will come out or whether it won’t come out—that is already my +affair,” answered Lichonin dully, looking down at his fingers, trembling on his +knees. +</p> + +<p> +“O, of course, it’s your affair, my young student,” and the flabby cheeks and +majestic chins of Emma Edwardovna began to jump from inaudible laughter. “From +my soul I wish for you love and friendship; but only trouble yourself to tell +this nasty creature, this Liubka, that she shouldn’t dare to show even her nose +here, when you throw her out into the street like a little doggie. Let her +croak from hunger under a fence, or go into a half-rouble establishment for the +soldiers!” +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me, she won’t return. I ask you merely to give me her certificate, +without delay.” +</p> + +<p> +“The certificate? ACH, if you please! Even this very minute. Only I will first +trouble you to pay for everything that she took here on credit. Have a look, +here is her account book. I took it along with me on purpose. I knew already +with what our conversation would end.” She took out of the slit of her +PEGNOIR—showing Lichonin for just a minute her fat, full-fleshed, yellow, +enormous breast—a little book in a black cover, with the heading: ACCOUNT OF +MISS IRENE VOSCHHENKOVA IN THE HOUSE OF ILL-FAME, MAINTAINED BY ANNA MARKOVNA +SHAIBES, ON YAM-SKAYA STREET, NO. SO-AND-SO, and extended it to him across the +table. Lichonin turned over the first page and read through four or five +paragraphs of the printed rules. There dryly and briefly it was stated that the +account book consists of two copies, of which one is kept by the proprietress +while the other remains with the prostitute; that all income and expense were +entered into both books; that by agreement the prostitute receives board, +quarters, heat, light, bed linen, baths and so forth, and for this pays out to +the proprietress in no case more than two-thirds of her earnings; while out of +the remaining money she is bound to dress neatly and decently, having no less +than two dresses for going out. Further, mention was made of the fact that +payment was made with the help of stamps, which the proprietress gives out to +the prostitute upon receipt of money from her; while the account is drawn up at +the end of every month. And, finally, that the prostitute can at any time leave +the house of prostitution, even if there does remain a debt of hers, which, +however, she binds herself to cancel on the basis of general civil laws. +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin prodded the last point with his finger, and, having turned the face of +the book to the housekeeper, said triumphantly: +</p> + +<p> +“Aha! There, you see: she has the right to leave the house at any time. +Consequently, she can at any time quit your abominable dive of violence, +baseness, and depravity, in which you ...” Lichonin began rattling off, but the +housekeeper calmly cut him short: +</p> + +<p> +“O! I have no doubt of this. Let her go away. Let her only pay the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about promissory notes? She can give promissory notes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pst! Promissory notes! In the first place, she’s illiterate; while in the +second, what are her promissory notes worth? A spit and no more. Let her find a +surety who would be worthy of trust, and then I have nothing against it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, then, there’s nothing said in the rules about sureties.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s many a thing not said! In the rules it also does not say that it’s +permitted to carry a girlie out of the house, without giving warning to the +owners.” +</p> + +<p> +“But in any case you’ll have to give me her blank.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will never do such a foolishness! Come here with some respectable person and +with the police; and let the police certify that this friend of yours is a man +of means; and let this man stand surety for you; and let, besides that, the +police certify that you are not taking the girl in order to trade in her, or to +sell her over to another stablishment—then as you please! Hand and foot!” +</p> + +<p> +“The devil!” exclaimed Lichonin. “But if that surety will be I, I myself! If +I’ll sign your promissory notes right away ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Young man! I don’t know what you are taught in your different universities, +but is it possible that you reckon me such a positive fool? God grant, that you +have, besides those which are on you, still some other pants! God grant, that +you should even the day after have for dinner the remnants of sausages from the +sausage shop, and yet you say—a promissory note! What are you bothering my head +for?” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin grew completely angry. He drew his wallet out of his pocket and +slapped it down on the table. +</p> + +<p> +“In that case I pay in cash and immediately!” +</p> + +<p> +“ACH, that’s a business of another kind,” sweetly, but still with mistrust, the +housekeeper intoned. “I will trouble you to turn the page, and see what the +bill of your beloved is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Keep still, you carrion!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m still, you fool,” calmly responded the housekeeper. +</p> + +<p> +On the small ruled pages on the left side was designated the income, on the +right were the expenses. +</p> + +<p> +“Received in stamps, 15th of April,” read Lichonin, “10 roubles; 16th—4 +roubles; 17th—12 roubles; 18th—sick; 19th—sick; 20th—6 roubles; 21st—24 +roubles.” +</p> + +<p> +“My God!” with loathing, with horror, reflected Lichonin. “Twelve men in one +night!” +</p> + +<p> +At the end of the month stood: +</p> + +<p> +“Total 330 roubles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lord! Why, this is some sort of delirium! One hundred and sixty-five visits,” +thought Lichonin, having mechanically calculated it, and still continued +turning the pages. Then he went over to the columns on the right. +</p> + +<p> +“Made, a red dress of silk with lace 84 roubles Dressmaker Eldokimova. Dressing +sack of lace 35 roubles Dressmaker Eldokimova. Silk stockings 6 pair 36 +roubles,” &c., &c. “Given for cab-fare, given for candy, perfumes +bought,” &c., &c. “Total 205 roubles.” After that from the 330 roubles +were deducted 220 roubles—the share of the proprietress for board and lodging. +The figure of 110 roubles resulted. The end of the monthly account declared: +</p> + +<p> +“Total after the payment to the dressmaker and for other articles, of 110 +roubles, a debt of ninety-five (95) roubles remains for Irene Voschhenkova and +with the four hundred and eighteen roubles remaining from last year—five +hundred and thirteen (513) roubles.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin’s spirits fell. He did try, at first, to be indignant at the +expensiveness of the materials supplied; but the housekeeper retorted with SANG +FROID that that did not concern her at all; that the establishment demanded +only that the girl dress decently, as becomes a girl from a decent, genteel +house; while it did not concern itself with the rest. The establishment merely +extended her credit in paying her expenses. +</p> + +<p> +“But this is a vixen, a spider in human shape—this dressmaker of yours!” yelled +Lichonin beside himself. “Why, she’s in a conspiracy with you, cupping glass +that you are, you abominable tortoise! Scuttlefish! Where’s your conscience?” +</p> + +<p> +The more agitated he grew, the more calm and jeering Emma Edwardovna became. +</p> + +<p> +“Again I repeat: that is not my business. And you, young man, don’t express +yourself like that, because I will call the porter, and he will throw you out +of the door.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin was compelled to bargain with the cruel woman long, brutally, till he +grew hoarse, before she agreed, in the end, to take two hundred and fifty +roubles in cash, and two hundred roubles in promissory notes. And even that +only when Lichonin with his half-yearly certificate proved to her that he was +finishing this year and would become a lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +The housekeeper went after the ticket, while Lichonin took to pacing the +cabinet back and forth. He had already looked over all the pictures on the +walls: Leda with the swan, and the bathing on the shore of the sea, and the +odalisque in a harem, and the satyr, bearing a naked nymph in his arms; but +suddenly a small printed placard, framed and behind glass, half covered by a +portiere, attracted his attention. It was the first time that it had come +across Lichonin’s eyes, and the student with amazement and aversion read these +lines, expressed in the dead, official language of police stations. There with +shameful, businesslike coldness, were mentioned all possible measures and +precautions against infections; the intimacies of feminine toilet; the weekly +medical inspections and all the adaptations for them. Lichonin also read that +no establishment was to be situated nearer than a hundred steps from churches, +places of learning, and court buildings; that only persons of the female sex +may maintain houses of prostitution; that only her relatives, and even then of +the female sex exclusively, and none older than seven years, may live with the +proprietress; and that the proprietors and the owners of the house, as well as +the girls, must in their relations among themselves and the guests as well, +observe politeness, quiet, civility and decency, by no means allowing +themselves drunkenness, swearing and brawls. And also that the prostitute must +not allow herself the caresses of love when in an intoxicated condition or with +an intoxicated man; and in addition to that, during the time of certain +functions. Here also the prostitutes were most strictly forbidden to commit +abortions. “What a serious and moral view of things!” reflected Lichonin with a +malicious sneer. +</p> + +<p> +Finally the business with Emma Edwarodvna was concluded. Having taken the money +and written out a receipt, she stretched it out to Lichonin together with the +blank, while he stretched out the money to her; at which, during the time of +the operation, they both looked at each other’s eyes and hands intently and +warily. It was apparent that they both felt no especially great mutual trust. +Lichonin put the documents away in his wallet and was preparing to depart. The +housekeeper escorted him to the very stoop, and when the student was already +standing in the street, she, remaining on the steps, leaned out and called +after him: +</p> + +<p> +“Student! Hey! Student!” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped and turned around. +</p> + +<p> +“What now?” +</p> + +<p> +“And here’s another thing. Now I must tell you, that your Liubka is trash, a +thief, and sick with syphilis! None of our good guests wanted to take her; and +anyway, if you had not taken her, then we would have thrown her out to-morrow! +I will also tell you, that she had to do with the porter, with policemen, with +janitors, and with petty thieves. Congratulations on your lawful marriage!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oo-ooh! Vermin!” Lichonin roared back at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You green blockhead!” called out the housekeeper and banged the door. +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin went to the station house in a cab. On the way he recalled that he had +not had time to look at the blank properly, at this renowned “yellow ticket,” +of which he had heard so much. This was an ordinary small white sheet, no +larger than a postal envelope. On one side, in the proper column, were written +out the name, father’s name, and family name of Liubka, and her +profession—“Prostitute”; and on the other side, concise extracts from the +paragraphs of that placard which he had just read through—infamous, +hypocritical rules about behaviour and external and internal cleanliness. +“Every visitor.” he read, “has the right to demand from the prostitute the +written certificate of the doctor who has inspected her the last time.” And +again sentimental pity overcame the heart of Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor women!” he reflected with grief. “What only don’t they do with you, how +don’t they abuse you, until you grow accustomed to everything, just like blind +horses on a treadmill!” In the station house he was received by the district +inspector, Kerbesh. He had spent the night on duty, had not slept his fill, and +was angry. His luxurious, fan-shaped red beard was crumpled. The right half of +the ruddy face was still crimsonly glowing from lying long on the uncomfortable +oilcloth pillow. But the amazing, vividly blue eyes, cold and luminous, looked +clear and hard, like blue porcelain. Having ended interrogating, recording, and +cursing out with obscenities the throng of ragamuffins, taken in during the +night for sobering up and now being sent out over their own districts, he threw +himself against the back of the divan, put his hands behind his neck, and +stretched with all his enormous, heroic body so hard that all his ligaments and +joints cracked. He looked at Lichonin just as at a thing, and asked: +</p> + +<p> +“And what will you have, Mr. Student?” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin stated his business briefly. +</p> + +<p> +“And so I want,” he concluded, “to take her to me ... how is this supposed to +be done with you? ... in the capacity of a servant, or, if you want, a +relative, in a word ... how is it done? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, in the capacity of a kept mistress or a wife, let’s say,” indifferently +retorted Kerbesh and twirled in his hands a silver cigar case with monograms +and little figures. “I can do absolutely nothing for you ... at least right +now. If you desire to marry her, present a suitable permit from your university +authorities. But if you’re taking her on maintenance—then just think, where’s +the logic in that? You’re taking a girl out of a house of depravity, in order +to live with her in depraved cohabitation.” +</p> + +<p> +“A servant, finally,” Lichonin put in. +</p> + +<p> +“And even a servant. I’d trouble you to present an affidavit from your +landlord—for, I hope, you’re not a houseowner? Very well, then, an affidavit +from your landlord, as to your being in a position to keep a servant; and +besides that, all the documents, testifying that you’re that very person you +give yourself out to be; an affidavit, for instance, from your district and +from the university, and all that sort of thing. For you, I hope, are +registered? Or, perhaps, you are now, eh? ... Of the illegal ones? +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am registered!” retorted Lichonin, beginning to lose patience. +</p> + +<p> +“And that’s splendid. But the young lady, about whom you’re troubling +yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, she’s not registered as yet. But I have her blank in my possession, which, +I hope, you’ll exchange for a real passport for me, and then I’ll register her +at once.” +</p> + +<p> +Kerbesh spread his arms out wide, then again began toying with the cigar case. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t do anything for you, Mr. Student, just nothing at all, until you present +all the papers required. As far as the girl’s concerned, why, she, as one not +having the right of residence, will be sent to the police without delay, and +there detained; unless she personally desires to go there, where you’ve taken +her from. I’ve the honour of wishing you good day.” +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin abruptly pulled his hat over his eyes and went toward the door. But +suddenly an ingenious thought flashed through his head, from which, however, he +himself became disgusted. And feeling nausea in the pit of his stomach, with +clammy, cold hands, experiencing a sickening pinching in his toes, he again +walked up to the table and said as though carelessly, but with a catch in his +voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, inspector. I’ve forgotten the most important thing; a certain +mutual acquaintance of ours has instructed me to transmit to you a small debt +of his.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hm! An acquaintance?” asked Kerbesh, opening wide his magnificent azure eyes. +“And who may he be?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bar ... Barbarisov.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Barbarisov? So, so, so, I recollect, I recollect!” +</p> + +<p> +“So then, won’t you please accept these ten roubles?” +</p> + +<p> +Kerbesh shook his head, but did not take the bit of paper. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but this Barbarisov of yours—that is, ours—is a swine. It isn’t ten +roubles he owes me at all, but a quarter of a century. What a scoundrel! +Twenty-five roubles and some small change besides. Well, the small change, of +course, I won’t count up to him. God be with him! This, you see, is a billiard +debt. I must say that he’s a blackguard, plays crookedly ... And so, young man, +dig up fifteen more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but you are a knave, Mr. Inspector!” said Lichonin, getting out the +money. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mercy!” by now altogether good-naturedly retorted Kerbesh. “A wife, +children ... You know yourself what our salary is ... Receive the little +passport, young man. Sign your receipt. Best wishes.” +</p> + +<p> +A queer thing! The consciousness that the passport was, finally, in his pocket, +for some reason suddenly calmed and again braced up and elevated Lichonin’s +nerves. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well!” he thought, walking quickly along the street, “the very beginning +has been laid down, the most difficult part has been done. Hold fast, now, +Lichonin, and don’t fall in spirit! What you’ve done is splendid and lofty. Let +me be even a victim of this deed—it’s all one! It’s a shame, having done a good +deed, to expect rewards for it right away. I’m not a little circus dog, and not +a trained camel, and not the first pupil of a young ladies’ genteel institute. +Only it was useless for me to let loose yesterday before these bearers of +enlightenment. It all turned out to be silly, tactless, and, in any case, +premature. But everything in life is reparable. A person will sustain the +heaviest, most disgraceful things; but, time passes, and they are recalled as +trifles ...” +</p> + +<p> +To his amazement, Liubka was not especially struck, and did not at all become +overjoyed when he triumphantly showed her the passport. She was only glad to +see Lichonin again. Perhaps, this primitive, naive soul had already contrived +to cleave to its protector? She did throw herself upon his neck, but he stopped +her, and quietly, almost in her ear, asked her: +</p> + +<p> +“Liubka, tell me ... don’t be afraid to tell the truth, no matter what it may +be ... They told me just now, there in the house, that you’re sick with a +certain disease ... you know, that which is called the evil sickness. If you +believe in me even to some extent, tell me, my darling, tell me, is that so or +not?” +</p> + +<p> +She turned red, covered her face with her hands, fell down on the divan and +burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“My dearie! Vassil Vassilich! Vasinka! Honest to God! Honest to God, now, there +never was anything of the kind! I always was so careful! I was awfully afraid +of this. I love you so! I would have told you without fail.” She caught his +hands, pressed them to her wet face and continued to assure him with the absurd +and touching sincerity of an unjustly accused child. +</p> + +<p> +And he at once believed her in his soul. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe you, my child,” he said quietly, stroking her hair. “Don’t excite +yourself, don’t cry. Only let us not again give in to our weakness. Well, it +has happened—let it have happened; but let us not repeat it any more.’ +</p> + +<p> +“As you wish,” prattled the girl, kissing now his hands, now the cloth of his +coat. “If I displease you so, then, of course, let it be as you wish.” +</p> + +<p> +However, this evening also the temptation was again repeated, and kept on +repeating until the falls from grace ceased to arouse a burning shame in +Lichonin, and turned into a habit, swallowing and extinguishing remorse. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0216"></a> CHAPTER XVI.</h3> + +<p> +Justice must be rendered to Lichonin; he did everything to create for Liubka a +quiet and secure existence. Since he knew that they would have to leave their +mansard anyway—this bird house, rearing above the whole city—leave it not so +much on account of its inconvenience and lack of space as on account of the old +woman Alexandra, who with every day became more ferocious, captious and +scolding—he resolved to rent a little bit of a flat, consisting of two rooms +and a kitchen, on the Borschhagovka, at the edge of the town. He came upon an +inexpensive one, for nine roubles a month, without fuel. True, Lichonin had to +run very far from there to his pupils, but he relied firmly upon his endurance +and health, and would often say: +</p> + +<p> +“My legs are my own. I don’t have to be sparing of them.” +</p> + +<p> +And, truly, he was a great master at walking. Once, for the sake of a joke, +having put a pedometer in his vest pocket, he towards evening counted up twenty +versts; which, taking into consideration the unusual length of his legs, +equalled some twenty-five versts.[21] And he did have to run about quite a bit, +because the fuss about Liubka’s passport and the acquisition of household +furnishings of a sort had eaten up all his accidental winnings at cards. He did +try to take up playing again, on a small scale at first, but was soon convinced +that his star at cards had now entered upon a run of fatal ill luck. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[21] A verst is equal to two-thirds of a mile.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +By now, of course, the real character of his relations with Liubka was a +mystery to none of his comrades; but he still continued in their presence to +act out the comedy of friendly and brotherly relations with the girl. For some +reason he could not, or did not want to, realize that it would have been far +wiser and more advantageous for him not to lie, not to be false, and not to +pretend. Or, perhaps, although he did know this, he still could not change the +established tone. As for the intimate relations, he inevitably played a +secondary, passive role. The initiative, in the form of tenderness, caressing, +always had to come from Liubka (she had remained Liubka, after all, and +Lichonin had somehow entirely forgotten that he himself had read her real +name—Irene—in the passport). +</p> + +<p> +She, who had so recently given her body up impassively—or, on the contrary, +with an imitation of burning passion—to tens of people in a day, to hundreds in +a month, had become attached to Lichonin with all her feminine being, loving +and jealous; had grown attached to him with body, feeling, thoughts. The prince +was funny and entertaining to her, and the expansive Soloviev interestingly +amusing; toward the crushing authoritativeness of Simanovsky she felt a +supernatural terror; but Lichonin was for her at the same time a sovereign, and +a divinity; and, which is the most horrible of all, her property and bodily +joy. +</p> + +<p> +It has long ago been observed, that a man who has lived his fill, has been worn +out, gnawed and chewed by the jaws of amatory passions, will never again love +with a strong and only love, simultaneously self-denying, pure, and passionate. +But for a woman there are neither laws nor limitations in this respect. This +observation was especially confirmed in Liubka. She was ready to crawl before +Lichonin with delight, to serve him as a slave; but, at the same time, desired +that he belong to her more than a table, than a little dog, than a night +blouse. And he always proved wanting, always failing before the onslaught of +this sudden love, which from a modest little stream had so rapidly turned into +a river and had over-flowed its banks. And not infrequently he thought to +himself, with bitterness and a sneer: +</p> + +<p> +“Every evening I play the role of the beauteous Joseph; still, he at least +managed to tear himself away, leaving his underwear in the hands of the ardent +lady; but when will I at last get free of my yoke?” +</p> + +<p> +And a secret enmity for Liubka was already gnawing him. All the more and more +frequently various crafty plans of liberation came into his head. And some of +them were to such an extent dishonest, that, after a few hours, or the next +day, Lichonin squirmed inwardly from shame, recalling them. +</p> + +<p> +“I am falling, morally and mentally!” he would at times think with horror. +“It’s not in vain that I read somewhere, or heard from some one, that the +connection of a cultured man with a woman of little intellect will never +elevate her to the level of the man, but, on the contrary, will bow him down +and sink him to the mental and moral outlook of the woman.” +</p> + +<p> +And after two weeks she ceased to excite his imagination entirely. He gave in, +as to violence, to the long-continued caresses, entreaties, and often even to +pity. +</p> + +<p> +Yet at the same time Liubka, who had rested and felt living, real soil under +her, began to improve in looks with unusual rapidity, just as a flower bud, +that but yesterday was almost dying, suddenly unfolds after a plentiful and +warm rain. The freckles ran off her soft face, and the uncomprehending, +troubled expression, like that of a young jackdaw, had disappeared from the +dark eyes, and they had grown brighter and had begun to sparkle. The body grew +stronger and filled out; the lips grew red. But Lichonin, seeing Liubka every +day, did not notice this and did not believe those compliments which were +showered upon her by his friends. “Fool jokes,” he reflected, frowning. “The +boys are spoofing.” +</p> + +<p> +As the lady of the house, Liubka proved to be less than mediocre. True, she +could cook fat stews, so thick that the spoon stood upright in them; prepare +enormous, unwieldy, formless cutlets; and under the guidance of Lichonin +familiarized herself pretty rapidly with the great art of brewing tea (at +seventy-five kopecks a pound); but further than that she did not go, probably +because for each art and for each being there are extreme limitations of their +own, which cannot in any way be surmounted. But then, she loved to wash floors +very much; and carried out this occupation so often and with such zeal, that +dampness soon set in in the flat and multipedes appeared. +</p> + +<p> +Tempted once by a newspaper advertisement, Lichonin procured a stocking +knitting machine for her, on terms. The art, the mastery of this +instrument—promising, to judge by the advertisement, three roubles of clear +profit a day—proved to be so uncomplicated that Lichonin, Soloviev, and +Nijeradze easily mastered it in a few hours; while Lichonin even contrived to +knit a whole stocking of uncommon durability, and of such dimensions that it +would have proven big even for the feet of Minin and Pozharsky, whose statues +are in Moscow, on Krasnaya Square. Only Liubka alone could not master this +trade. At every mistake or tangle she was forced to turn to the co-operation of +the men. But then, she learned pretty rapidly to make artificial flowers and, +despite the opinion of Simanovsky, made them very exquisitely, and with great +taste; so that after a month the hat specialty stores began to buy her work. +And, what is most amazing, she had taken only two lessons in all from a +specialist, while the rest she learned through a self-instructor, guiding +herself only by the drawings supplemental to it. She did not contrive to make +more than a rouble’s worth of flowers in a week; but this money was her pride, +and for the very first half-rouble that she made she bought Lichonin a +mouthpiece for smoking. +</p> + +<p> +Several years later Lichonin confessed to himself at soul, with regret and with +a quiet melancholy, that this period of time was the most quiet, peaceful and +comfortable one of all his life in the university and as a lawyer. This +unwieldy, clumsy, perhaps even stupid Liubka, possessed some instinctive +domesticity, some imperceptible ability of creating a bright and easy quietude +around her. It was precisely she who attained the fact that Lichonin’s quarters +very soon became a charming, quiet centre; where all the comrades of Lichonin, +who, as well as the majority of the students of that time, were forced to +sustain a bitter struggle with the harsh conditions of life, felt somehow at +ease, as though in a family; and rested at soul after heavy tribulations, need, +and starvation. Lichonin recalled with grateful sadness her friendly +complaisance, her modest and attentive silence, on those evenings around the +samovar, when so much had been spoken, argued and dreamt. +</p> + +<p> +In learning, things went with great difficulty. All these self-styled +cultivators, collectively and separately, spoke of the fact that the education +of the human mind, and the upbringing of the human soul must flow out of +individual motives; but in reality they stuffed Liubka with just that which +seemed to them the most necessary and indispensable, and tried to overcome +together with her those scientific obstacles, which, without any loss, might +have been left aside. +</p> + +<p> +Thus, for example, Lichonin did not want, under any conditions, to become +reconciled, in teaching her arithmetic, to her queer, barbarous, savage, or, +more correctly, childish, primitive method of counting. She counted exclusively +in ones, twos, threes and fives. Thus, for example, twelve to her was two times +two threes; nineteen—three fives and two twos; and, it must be said, that +through her system she with the rapidity of a counting board operated almost up +to a hundred. To go further she dared not; and besides she had no practical +need of this. In vain did Lichonin try to transfer her to a digital system. +Nothing came of this, save that he flew into a rage, yelled at Liubka; while +she would look at him in silence, with astonished, widely open and guilty eyes, +the lashes of which stuck into long black arrows from tears. Also, through a +capricious turn of her mind, she began to master addition and multiplication +with comparative ease, but subtraction and division were for her an +impenetrable wall. But then, she could, with amazing speed and wit, solve all +possible jocose oral head-breaking riddles, and even remembered very many of +them herself from the thousand year old usage of the village. Toward geography +she was perfectly dull. True, she could orientate herself as to the four +cardinal points on the street, in the garden, and in the room; hundreds of +times better than Lichonin—the ancient peasant instinct in her asserted +itself—but she stubbornly denied the sphericity of the earth and did not +recognize the horizon; and when she was told that the terrestrial globe moves +in space, she only snorted from laughter. Geographical maps to her were always +an incomprehensible daubing in several colours; but separate figures she +memorized exactly and quickly. “Where’s Italy?” Lichonin would ask her. “Here +it is, a boot,” Liubka would say and triumphantly jabbed the Apennine +Peninsula. “Sweden and Norway?” “This dog, which is jumping off a roof.” “The +Baltic Sea?” “A widow standing on her knees.” “The Black Sea?” “A shoe.” +“Spain?” “A fatty in a cap” ... &c. With history matters went no better; +Lichonin did not take into consideration the fact that she, with her childlike +soul thirsting for fiction, would have easily become familiarized with historic +events through various funny and heroically touching anecdotes; but he, +accustomed to pulling through examinations and tutoring high-school boys of the +fourth or fifth grade, starved her on names and dates. Besides that, he was +very impatient, unrestrained, irascible; grew fatigued soon, and a +secret—usually concealed but constantly growing—hatred for the girl who had so +suddenly and incongruously warped all his life, more and more frequently and +unjustly broke forth during the time of these lessons. +</p> + +<p> +A far greater success as a pedagogue enjoyed Nijeradze. His guitar and mandolin +always hung in the dining room, secured to the nails with ribbons. The guitar, +with its soft, warm sounds, drew Liubka more than the irritating, metallic +bleating of the mandolin. When Nijeradze would come to them as a guest (three +or four times a week, in the evening), she herself would take the guitar down +from the wall, painstakingly wipe it off with a handkerchief, and hand it over +to him. He, having fussed for some time with the tuning, would clear his +throat, put one leg over the other, negligently throw himself against the back +of the chair, and begin in a throaty little tenor, a trifle hoarse, but +pleasant and true: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“The trea-cha-rous sa-ound av akissing<br/> +Resahounds through the quiet night air;<br/> +Tuh all fla-ming hearts it is pleasing,<br/> +And given tuh each lovin’ pair. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +For a single mohoment of mee-ting ...” +</p> + +<p> +And at this he would pretend to swoon away from his own singing, shut his eyes, +toss his head in the passionate passages or during the pauses, tearing his +right hand away from the strings; would suddenly turn to stone, and for a +second would pierce Liubka’s eyes with his languorous, humid, sheepish eyes. He +knew an endless multitude of ballads, catches, and old-fashioned, jocose little +pieces. Most of all pleased Liubka the universally familiar Armenian couplets +about Karapet: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Karapet has a buffet,<br/> +On the buffet’s a confet,<br/> +On the confet’s a portret—<br/> +That’s the self-same Karapet.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[22] Anglice, “confet” is a bon-bon; “portret,” a portrait.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +Of these couplets (in the Caucasus they are called kinto-uri—the song of the +peddlers) the prince knew an infinite many, but the absurd refrain was always +one and the same: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Bravo, bravo, Katenka,<br/> +Katerin Petrovna,<br/> +Don’t you kiss me on the cheek—a,<br/> +Kiss the backs of my head.” +</p> + +<p> +These couplets Nijeradze always sang in a diminished voice, preserving on his +face an expression of serious astonishment about Karapet; while Liubka laughed +until it hurt, until tears came, until she had nervous spasms. Once, carried +away, she could not restrain herself and began to chime in with him, and their +singing proved to be very harmonious. Little by little, when she had by degrees +completely ceased to be embarrassed before the prince, they sang together more +and more frequently. Liubka proved to have a very soft and low contralto, even +though thin, on which her past life with its colds, drinking, and professional +excesses had left absolutely no traces. And mainly—which was already a curious +gift of God—she possessed an instinctive, inherent ability very exactly, +beautifully, and always originally, to carry on the second voice. There came a +time toward the end of their acquaintance, when Liubka did not beg the prince, +but the prince Liubka, to sing some one of the beloved songs of the people, of +which she knew a multitude. And so, putting her elbow on the table, and +propping up her head with her palm, like a peasant woman, she would start off +to the cautious, painstaking, quiet accompaniment: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Oh, the nights have grown tiresome to me, and wearisome;<br/> +To be parted from my dearie, from my mate!<br/> +Oh, haven’t I myself, woman-like, done a foolish thing—<br/> +Have stirred up the wrath of my own darling:<br/> +When I did call him a bitter drunkard! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Bitter drunkard!” the prince would repeat the last words together with her, +and would forlornly toss his curly head, inclined to one side; and they both +tried to end the song so that the scarcely seizable quivering of the guitar +strings and the voice might by degrees grow quiet, and that it might not be +possible to note when the sound ended and the silence came. +</p> + +<p> +But then, in the matter of THE PANTHER’S SKIN, the work of the famous Georgian +poet Rustavelli, prince Nijeradze fell down completely. The beauty of the poem, +of course, consisted in the way it sounded in the native tongue; but scarcely +would he begin to read in sing-song his throaty, sibilant, hawking phrases, +when Liubka would at first shake for a long time from irresistible laughter; +then, finally, burst into laughter, filling the whole room with explosive, +prolonged peals. Then Nijeradze in wrath would slam shut the little tome of the +adored writer, and swear at Liubka, calling her a mule and a camel. However, +they soon made up. +</p> + +<p> +There were times when fits of goatish, mischievous merriment would come upon +Nijeradze. He would pretend that he wanted to embrace Liubka, would roll +exaggeratedly passionate eyes at her, and would utter with a theatrically +languishing whisper: +</p> + +<p> +“Me soul! The best rosa in the garden of Allah! Honey and milk are upon thy +lips, and thy breath is better than the aroma of kabob. Give me to drink the +bliss of Nirvanah from the goblet of thy lips, O thou, my best Tifflissian +she-goat!” +</p> + +<p> +But she would laugh, get angry, strike his hands, and threaten to complain to +Lichonin. +</p> + +<p> +“V-va!” the prince would spread out his hands. “What is Lichonin? Lichonin is +my friend, my brother, and bosom crony. But then, does he know what loffe is? +Is it possible that you northern people understand loffe? It’s we, Georgians, +who are created for loffe. Look, Liubka! I’ll show you right away what loffe +is!” He would clench his fists, bend his body forward, and would start rolling +his eyes so ferociously, gnash his teeth and roar with a lion’s voice so, that +a childish terror would encompass Liubka, despite the fact that she knew this +to be a joke, and she would dash off running into another room. +</p> + +<p> +It must be said, however, that for this lad, in general unrestrained in the +matter of light, chance romances, existed special firm moral prohibitions, +sucked in with the milk of his mother Georgian; the sacred adates concerning +the wife of a friend. And then, probably he understood—and it must be said that +these oriental men, despite their seeming naiveness—and, perhaps, even owing to +it—possess, when they wish to, a fine psychic intuition—he understood, that +having made Liubka his mistress for even one minute, he would be forever +deprived of this charming, quiet, domestic evening comfort, to which he had +grown so used. For he, who was on terms of thou-ing with almost the whole +university, nevertheless felt himself so lonely in a strange city and in a +country still strange to him! +</p> + +<p> +These studies afforded the most pleasure of all to Soloviev. This big, strong, +and negligent man somehow involuntarily, imperceptibly even to himself, began +to submit to that hidden, unseizable, exquisite witchery of femininity; which +not infrequently lurks under the coarsest covering, in the harshest, most +gnarled environment. The pupil dominated, the teacher obeyed. Through the +qualities of a primitive, but on the other hand a fresh, deep, and original +soul, Liubka was inclined not to obey the method of another, but to seek out +her own peculiar, strange processes. Thus, for example, she—like many children, +however,—learned writing before reading. Not she herself, meek and yielding by +nature, but some peculiar quality of her mind, obstinately refused in reading +to harness a vowel alongside of a consonant, or vice versa; in writing, +however, she would manage this. For penmanship along slanted rulings she, +despite the general wont of beginners, felt a great inclination; she wrote +bending low over the paper; blew on the paper from exertion, as though blowing +off imaginary dust; licked her lips and stuck out with the tongue, from the +inside, now one cheek, now the other. Soloviev did not thwart her, and followed +after, along those ways which her instinct laid down. And it must be said, that +during this month and a half he had managed to become attached with all his +huge, broad, mighty soul to this chance, weak, transitory being. This was the +circumspect, droll, magnanimous, somewhat wondering love, and the careful +concern, of a kind elephant for a frail, helpless, yellow-downed chick. +</p> + +<p> +The reading was a delectation for both of them, and here again the choice of +works was directed by the taste of Liubka, while Soloviev only followed its +current and its sinuosities. Thus, for example, Liubka did not overcome Don +Quixote, tired, and, finally, turning away from him, with pleasure heard +Robinson Crusoe through, and wept with especial copiousness over the scene of +his meeting with his relatives. She liked Dickens, and very easily grasped his +radiant humour; but the features of English manners were foreign to her and +incomprehensible. They also read Chekhov more than once, and Liubka very +freely, without difficulty, penetrated the beauty of his design, his smile and +his sadness. Stories for children moved her, touched her to such a degree that +it was laughable and joyous to look at her. Once Soloviev read to her Chekhov’s +story, The Fit, in which, as it is known, a student for the first time finds +himself in a brothel; and afterwards, on the next day, writhes about, as in a +fit, in the spasms of a keen psychic suffering and the consciousness of common +guilt. Soloviev himself did not expect that tremendous impression which this +narrative would make upon her. She cried, swore, wrung her hands, and exclaimed +all the while: +</p> + +<p> +“Lord! Where does he take all that stuff from, and so skillfully! Why, it’s +every bit just the way it is with us!” +</p> + +<p> +Once he brought with him a book entitled THE HISTORY OF MANON LESCAUT AND THE +CHEVALIER DE GRIEUX, the work of Abbe Prevost. It must be said that Soloviev +himself was reading this remarkable book for the first time. But still, Liubka +appraised it far more deeply and finely. The absence of a plot, the naiveness +of the telling, the surplus of sentimentality, the olden fashion of the +style—all this taken together cooled Soloviev; whereas Liubka received the +joyous, sad, touching and flippant details of this quaint immortal novel not +only through her ears, but as though with her eyes and with all her naively +open heart. +</p> + +<p> +“‘Our intention of espousal was forgotten at St. Denis,’” Soloviev was reading, +bending his tousled, golden-haired head, illuminated by the shade of the lamp, +low over the book; “‘we transgressed against the laws of the church and, +without thinking of it, became espoused.’” +</p> + +<p> +“What are they at? Of their own will, that is? Without a priest? Just so?” +asked Liubka in uneasiness, tearing herself away from her artificial flowers. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course. And what of it? Free love, and that’s all there is to it. Like you +and Lichonin, now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, me! That’s an entirely different matter. You know yourself where he took +me from. But she’s an innocent and genteel young lady. That’s a low-down thing +for him to do. And, believe me, Soloviev, he’s sure to leave her later. Ah, the +poor girl. Well, well, well, read on.” +</p> + +<p> +But already after several pages all the sympathies and commiserations of Liubka +went over to the side of the deceived chevalier. +</p> + +<p> +“‘However, the visits and departures by thefts of M. de B. threw me into +confusion. I also recollected the little purchases of Manon, which exceeded our +means. All this smacked of the generosity of a new lover. “But no, no,” I +repeated, “it is impossible that Manon should deceive me! She is aware, that I +live only for her, she is exceedingly well aware that I adore her.”’” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, the little fool, the little fool!” exclaimed Liubka. “Why, can’t you see +right off that she’s being kept by this rich man. Ah, trash that she is!” +</p> + +<p> +And the further the novel unfolded, the more passionate and lively an interest +did Liubka take in it. She had nothing against Manon’s fleecing her subsequent +patrons with the help of her lover and her brother, while de Grieux occupied +himself with sharping at the club; but her every new betrayal brought Liubka +into a rage, while the sufferings of the gallant chevalier evoked her tears. +Once she asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Soloviev, dearie, who was he—this author?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was a certain French priest.” +</p> + +<p> +“He wasn’t a Russian?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, a Frenchman, I’m telling you. See, he’s got everything so—the towns are +French and the people have French names.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then he was a priest, you say? Where did he know all this from, then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he knew it, that’s all. Because he was an ordinary man of the world, a +nobleman, and only became a monk afterwards. He had seen a lot in his life. +Then he again left the monks. But, however, here’s everything about him written +in detail in front of this book.” +</p> + +<p> +He read the biography of Abbe Prevost to her. Liubka heard it through +attentively, shaking her head with great significance; asked over again about +that which she did not understand in certain places, and when he had finished +she thoughtfully drawled out: +</p> + +<p> +“Then that’s what he is! He’s written it up awfully good. Only why is she so +low down? For he loves her so, with all his life; but she’s playing him false +all the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Liubochka, what can you do? For she loved him too. Only she’s a vain +hussy, and frivolous. All she wants is only rags, and her own horses, and +diamonds.” +</p> + +<p> +Liubka flared up and hit one fist against the other. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rub her into powder, the low-down creature? So that’s called her having +loved, too! If you love a man, then all that comes from him must be dear to +you. He goes to prison, and you go with him to prison. He’s become a thief, +well, you help him. He’s a beggar, but still you go with him. What is there out +of the way, that there’s only a crust of black bread, so long as there’s love? +She’s low down, and she’s low down, that’s what! But I, in his place, would +leave her; or, instead of crying, give her such a drubbing that she’d walk +around in bruises for a whole month, the varmint!” +</p> + +<p> +The end of the novel she could not manage to hear to the finish for a long +time, and always broke out into sincere warm tears, so that it was necessary to +interrupt the reading; and the last chapter they overcame only in four doses. +</p> + +<p> +The calamities and misadventures of the lovers in prison, the compulsory +despatch of Manon to America and the self-denial of de Grieux in voluntarily +following her, so possessed the imagination of Liubka and shook her soul, that +she even forgot to make her remarks. Listening to the story of the quiet, +beautiful death of Manon in the midst of the desert plain, she, without +stirring, with hands clasped on her breast, looked at the light; and the tears +ran and ran out of her staring eyes and fell, like a shower, on the table. But +when the Chevalier de Grieux, who had lain two days near the corpse of his dear +Manon, finally began to dig a grave with the stump of his sword—Liubka burst +into sobbing so that Soloviev became scared and dashed after water. But even +having calmed down a little, she still sobbed for a long time with her +trembling, swollen lips and babbled: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Their life was so miserable! What a bitter lot that was! And is it +possible that it’s always like that, darling Soloviev; that just as soon as a +man and a woman fall in love with each other, in just the way they did, then +God is sure to punish them? Dearie, but why is that? Why?” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0217"></a> CHAPTER XVII.</h3> + +<p> +But if the Georgian and the kind-souled Soloviev served as a palliating +beginning against the sharp thorns of great worldly wisdom, in the curious +education of the mind and soul of Liubka; and if Liubka forgave the pedantism +of Lichonin for the sake of a first sincere and limitless love for him, and +forgave just as willingly as she would have forgiven curses, beatings, or a +heavy crime—the lessons of Simanovsky, on the other hand, were a downright +torture and a constant, prolonged burden for her. For it must be said that he, +as though in spite, was far more accurate and exact in his lessons than any +pedagogue working out his weekly stipulated tutorings. +</p> + +<p> +With the incontrovertibility of his opinions, the assurance of his tone and the +didacticism of his presentation he took away the will of poor Liubka and +paralyzed her soul; in the same way that he sometimes, during university +gatherings or at mass meetings, influenced the timid and bashful minds of +newcomers. He was an orator at meetings; he was a prominent member in the +organization of students’ mess halls; he took part in the recording, +lithographing and publication of lectures; he was chosen the head of the +course; and, finally, took a very great interest in the students’ treasury. He +was of that number of people who, after they leave the student auditoriums, +become the leaders of parties, the unrestrained arbiters of pure and +self-denying conscience; serve out their political stage somewhere in Chukhlon, +directing the keen attention of all Russia to their heroically woeful +situation; and after that, beautifully leaning on their past, make a career for +themselves, thanks to a solid advocacy, a deputation, or else a marriage joined +with a goodly piece of black loam land and provincial activity. Unnoticeably to +themselves and altogether unnoticeably, of course, to the casual glance, they +cautiously right themselves; or, more correctly, fade until they grow a belly +unto themselves, and acquire podagra and diseases of the liver. Then they +grumble at the whole world; say that they were not understood, that their time +was the time of sacred ideals. While in the family they are despots and not +infrequently give money out at usury. +</p> + +<p> +The path of the education of Liubka’s mind and soul was plain to him, as was +plain and incontrovertible everything that he conceived; he wanted at the start +to interest Liubka in chemistry and physics. +</p> + +<p> +“The virginally feminine mind,” he pondered, “will be astounded, then I shall +gain possession of her attention, and from trifles, from hocus-pocus, I shall +pass on to that which will lead her to the centre of universal knowledge, where +there is no superstition, no prejudices; where there is only a broad field for +the testing of nature.” +</p> + +<p> +It must be said that he was inconsistent in his lessons. He dragged in all that +came to his hand for the astonishment of Liubka. Once he brought along for her +a large self-made serpent—a long cardboard hose, filled with gunpowder, bent in +the form of a harmonica, and tied tightly across with a cord. He lit it, and +the serpent for a long time with crackling jumped over the dining room and the +bedroom, filling the place with smoke and stench. Liubka was scarcely amazed +and said that this was simply fireworks, that she had already seen this, and +that you couldn’t astonish her with that. She asked, however, permission to +open the window. Then he brought a large phial, tinfoil, rosin and a cat’s +tail, and in this manner contrived a Leyden jar. The discharge, although weak, +was produced, however. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the unclean one take you, Satan!” Liubka began to cry out, having felt the +dry fillip in her little finger. +</p> + +<p> +Then, out of heated peroxide of manganese, mixed with sand, with the help of a +druggist’s vial, the gutta-percha end of a syringe, a basin filled with water, +and a jam jar—oxygen was derived. The red-hot cork, coal and phosphorus burnt +in the jar so blindingly that it pained the eyes. Liubka clapped her palms and +squealed out in delight: +</p> + +<p> +“Mister Professor, more! Please, more, more! ...” +</p> + +<p> +But when, having united the oxygen with the hydrogen brought in an empty +champagne bottle, and having wrapped up the bottle for precaution in a towel, +Simanovsky ordered Liubka to direct its neck toward a burning candle, and when +the explosion broke out, as though four cannons had been fired off at once—an +explosion through which the plastering fell down from the ceiling—then Liubka +grew timorous, and, only getting to rights with difficulty, pronounced with +trembling lips, but with dignity: “You must excuse me now, but since I have a +flat of my own, and I’m not at all a wench any longer, but a decent woman, I’d +ask you therefore not to misbehave in my place. I thought you, like a smart and +educated man, would do everything nice and genteel, but you busy yourself with +silly things. They can even put one in jail for that.” +</p> + +<p> +Subsequently, much, much later, she told how she had a student friend, who made +dynamite before her. +</p> + +<p> +It must have been, after all, that Simanovsky, this enigmatic man, so +influential in his youthful society, where he had to deal with theory for the +most part, and so incoherent when a practical experiment with a living soul had +come into his hands—was just simply stupid, but could skillfully conceal this +sole sincere quality of his. +</p> + +<p> +Having suffered failure in applied sciences, he at once passed on to +metaphysics. Once he very self-assuredly, and in a tone such that after it no +refutation was possible, announced to Liubka that there is no God, and that he +would undertake to prove this during five minutes. Whereupon Liubka jumped up +from her place, and told him firmly that she, even though a quondam prostitute, +still believed in God and would not allow Him to be offended in her presence; +and if he would continue such nonsense, then she would complain to Vassil +Vassilich. +</p> + +<p> +“I will also tell him,” she added in a weeping voice, “that you, instead of +teaching me, only rattle off all kinds of stuff and all that sort of nastiness, +while you yourself hold your hand on my knees. And that’s even not at all +genteel.” And for the first time during all their acquaintanceship she, who had +formerly been so timorous and constrained, sharply moved away from her teacher. +</p> + +<p> +However, having suffered a few failures, Simanovsky still obstinately continued +to act upon the mind and imagination of Liubka. He tried to explain to her the +theory of the origin of species, beginning with an amoeba and ending with +Napoleon. Liubka listened to him attentively, and during this there was an +imploring expression in her eyes: “When will you stop at last?” She yawned into +a handkerchief and then guiltily explained: “Excuse me, that’s from my nerves.” +Marx also had no success goods, supplementary value, the manufacturer and the +worker, which had become algebraic formulas, were for Liubka merely empty +sounds, vibrating the air; and she, very sincere at soul, always jumped up with +joy from her place, when hearing that, apparently, the vegetable soup had +boiled up, or the samovar was getting ready to boil over. +</p> + +<p> +It cannot be said that Simanovsky did not have success with women. His aplomb +and his weighty, decisive tone always acted upon simple souls, especially upon +fresh, naive, trusting souls. Out of protracted ties he always got out very +easily; either he was dedicated to a tremendously responsible call, before +which domestic love relations were nothing; or he pretended to be a superman, +to whom all is permitted (O, thou, Nietszche, so long ago and so disgracefully +misconstrued for high-school boys!). The passive, almost imperceptible, but +firmly evasive resistance of Liubka irritated and excited him. What +particularly incensed him was the fact that she, who had formerly been so +accessible to all, ready to yield her love in one day to several people in +succession, to each one for two roubles, was now all of a sudden playing at +some pure and disinterested inamoration! +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense,” he thought. “This can’t be. She’s making believe, and, probably, I +don’t strike the right tone with her.” +</p> + +<p> +And with every day he became more exacting, captious, and stern. Hardly +consciously, more probably through habit, he relied on his usual influence, +intimidating the thought and subduing the will, which rarely betrayed him. +</p> + +<p> +Once Liubka complained about him to Lichonin: +</p> + +<p> +“He’s too strict with me, now, Vassil Vassilievich; and I don’t understand +anything he says, and I don’t want to take lessons with him any more.” +</p> + +<p> +Somehow or other, Lichonin lamely quieted her down; but still he had an +explanation with Simanovsky. The other answered him with sang froid: +</p> + +<p> +“Just as you wish, my dear fellow; if my method displeases you or Liubka, then +I’m even ready to resign. My problem consists only of bringing in a genuine +element of discipline into her education. If she does not understand anything, +then I compel her to learn it by heart, aloud. With time this will cease. That +is unavoidable. Recall, Lichonin, how difficult the transition from arithmetic +to algebra was for us, when we were compelled to replace common numerals with +letters, and did not know why this was done. Or why did they teach us grammar, +instead of simply advising us to write tales and verses?” +</p> + +<p> +And on the very next day, bending down low under the hanging shade of the lamp +over Liubka’s body, and sniffing all over her breast and under her arm pits, he +was saying to her: +</p> + +<p> +“Draw a triangle... Well, yes, this way and this way. On top I write ‘Love.’ +Write simply the letter L, and below M and W. That will be: the Love of Man and +Woman.” +</p> + +<p> +With the air of an oracle, unshakable and austere, he spoke all sorts of erotic +balderdash and almost unexpectedly concluded: +</p> + +<p> +“And so look, Liuba. The desire to love—it’s the same as the desire to eat, to +drink, and to breathe the air.” He would squeeze her thigh hard, considerably +above the knee; and she again, becoming confused and not wishing to offend him, +would try almost imperceptibly to move her leg away gradually. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, would it be offensive, now, for your sister, mother, or for your +husband, that you by chance had not dined at home, but had gone into a +restaurant or a cook-shop, and had there satisfied your hunger? And so with +love. No more, no less. A physiological enjoyment. Perhaps more powerful, more +keen, than all others, but that’s all. Thus, for example, now: I want you as a +woman. While you ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, drop it, Mister,” Liubka cut him short with vexation. “Well, what are you +harping on one and the same thing for all the time? Change your act. You’ve +been told: no and no. Don’t you think I see what you’re trying to get at? But +only I’ll never agree to unfaithfulness, seeing as how Vasilli Vasillievich is +my benefactor, and I adore him with all my soul... And you’re even pretty +disgusting to me with your nonsense.” +</p> + +<p> +Once he caused Liubka a great and scandalous hurt, and all because of his +theoretical first principles. As at the university they were already for a long +time talking about Lichonin’s having saved a girl from such and such a house; +and that now he is taken up with her moral regeneration; that rumour, +naturally, also reached the studying girls, who frequented the student circles. +And so, none other than Simanovsky once brought to Liubka two female medicos, +one historian, and one beginning poetess, who, by the way, was already writing +critical essays as well. He introduced them in the most serious and fool-like +manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” he said, stretching out his hand, now in the direction of the guests, +now of Liubka, “here, comrades, get acquainted. You, Liuba, will find in them +real friends, who will help you on your radiant path; while you—comrades, Liza, +Nadya, Sasha and Rachel—you will regard as elder sisters a being who has just +struggled out of that horrible darkness into which the social structure places +the modern woman.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke not exactly so, perhaps; but in any case, approximately in that +manner. Liubka turned red, extended her hand, with all the fingers clumsily +folded together, to the young ladies in coloured blouses and in leather belts; +regaled them with tea and jam; promptly helped them with lights for cigarettes; +but, despite all invitations, did not want to sit down for anything. She would +say: “Yes-ss, n-no, as you wish.” And when one of the young ladies dropped a +handkerchief on the floor, she hurriedly made a dash to pick it up. +</p> + +<p> +One of the maidens, red, stout, and with a bass voice, whose face, all in all, +consisted of only a pair of red cheeks, out of which mirth-provokingly peeped +out a hint at an upturned nose, and with a pair of little black eyes, like tiny +raisins, sparkling out of their depths, was inspecting Liubka from head to +feet, as though through an imaginary lorgnette; directing over her a glance +which said nothing, but was contemptuous. “Why, I haven’t been getting anybody +away from her,” thought Liubka guiltily. But another was so tactless, that +she—perhaps for the first time for her, but the hundredth for Liubka—began a +conversation about: how had she happened upon the path of prostitution? This +was a bustling young lady, pale, very pretty, ethereal; all in little light +curls, with the air of a spoiled kitten and even a little pink cat’s bow on her +neck. +</p> + +<p> +“But tell me, who was this scoundrel, now ... who was the first to ... well, +you understand? ...” +</p> + +<p> +In the mind of Liubka quickly flashed the images of her former mates, Jennka +and Tamara, so proud, so brave and resourceful—oh, far brainier than these +maidens—and she, almost unexpectedly for herself, suddenly said sharply: +</p> + +<p> +“There was a lot of them. I’ve already forgotten. Kolka, Mitka, Volodka, +Serejka, Jorjik, Troshka, Petka, and also Kuzka and Guska with a party. But why +are you interested?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why... no... that is, I ask as a person who fully sympathizes with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But have you a lover?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, I don’t understand what you’re saying. People, it’s time we were +going.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is, what don’t you understand? Have you ever slept with a man?” +</p> + +<p> +“Comrade Simanovsky, I had not presupposed that you would bring us to such a +person. Thank you. It was exceedingly charming of you!” +</p> + +<p> +It was difficult for Liubka to surmount the first step. She was of those +natures which endure long, but tear loose rapidly; and she, usually so +timorous, was unrecognizable at this moment. +</p> + +<p> +“But I know!” she was screaming in wrath. “I know, that you’re the very same as +I! But you have a papa, a mamma; you’re provided for, and if you have to, then +you’ll even commit abortion—many do so. But if you were in my place, when +there’s nothing to stuff your mouth with, and a girlie doesn’t understand +anything yet, because she can’t read or write; while all around the men are +shoving like he-dogs—then you’d be in a sporting house too. It’s a shame to put +on airs before a poor girl—that’s what!” +</p> + +<p> +Simanovsky, who had gotten into trouble, said a few general consolatory words +in a judicious bass, such as the noble fathers used in olden comedies, and led +his ladies off. +</p> + +<p> +But he was fated to play one more very shameful, distressing, and final role in +the free life of Liubka. She had already complained to Lichonin for a long time +that the presence of Simanovsky was oppressive to her; but Lichonin paid no +attention to womanish trifles: the vacuous, fictitious, wordy hypnosis of this +man of commands was strong within him. There are influences, to get rid of +which is difficult, almost impossible. On the other hand, he was already for a +long time feeling the burden of co-habitation with Liubka. Frequently he +thought to himself: “She is spoiling my life; I am growing common, foolish; I +have become dissolved in fool benevolence; it will end up in my marrying her, +entering the excise or the assay office, or getting in among pedagogues; I’ll +be taking bribes, will gossip, and become an abominable provincial morel. And +where are my dreams of the power of thought, the beauty of life, of love and +deeds for all humanity?” he would say, at times even aloud, and pull his hair. +And for that reason, instead of attentively going into Liubka’s complaints, he +would lose his temper, yell, stamp his feet, and the patient, meek Liubka would +grow quiet and retire into the kitchen, to have a good cry there. +</p> + +<p> +Now more and more frequently, after family quarrels, in the minutes of +reconciliation he would say to Liubka: +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Liuba, you and I do not suit each other, comprehend that. Look: here +are a hundred roubles for you, ride home. Your relatives will receive you as +their own. Live there a while, look around you. I will come for you after half +a year; you’ll have become rested, and, of course, all that’s filthy, nasty, +that has been grafted upon you by the city, will go away, will die off. And +you’ll begin a new life independently, without any assistance, alone and +proud!” +</p> + +<p> +But then, can anything be done with a woman who has come to love for the first, +and, of course, as it seems to her, for the last time? Can she be convinced of +the necessity for parting? Does logic exist for her? +</p> + +<p> +Always reverent before the firmness of the words and decisions of Simanovsky, +Lichonin, however, surmised and by instinct understood his real relation to +Liubka; and in his desire to free himself, to shake off a chance load beyond +his strength, he would catch himself in a nasty little thought: “She pleases +Simanovsky; and as for her, isn’t it all the same if it’s he or I or a third? +Guess I’ll make a clean breast of it, explain things to him and yield Liubka up +to him like a comrade. But then, the fool won’t go. Will raise a rumpus.” +</p> + +<p> +“Or just to come upon the two of them together, somehow,” he would ponder +further, “in some decisive pose... to raise a noise, make a row... A noble +gesture... a little money and... a getaway.” +</p> + +<p> +He now frequently, for several days, would not return home; and afterwards, +having come, would undergo torturesome hours of feminine interrogations, +scenes, tears, even hysterical fits. Liubka would at times watch him in secret, +when he went out of the house; would stop opposite the entrance that he went +into, and for hours would await his return in order to reproach him and to cry +in the street. Not being able to read, she intercepted his letters and, not +daring to turn to the aid of the prince or Soloviev, would save them up in her +little cupboard together with sugar, tea, lemon and all sorts of other trash. +She had even reached the stage when, in minutes of anger, she threatened him +with sulphuric acid. +</p> + +<p> +“May the devil take her,” Lichonin would ponder during the minutes of his +crafty plans. “It’s all one, let there even be nothing between them. But I’ll +take and make a fearful scene for him, and her.” +</p> + +<p> +And he would declaim to himself: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, so! ... I have warmed you in my bosom, and what do I see now? You are +paying me with black ingratitude. ... And you, my best comrade, you have +attempted my sole happiness! ... O, no, no, remain together; I go hence with +tears in my eyes. I see, that I am one too many! I do not wish to oppose your +love, etc., etc.” +</p> + +<p> +And precisely these dreams, these hidden plans, such momentary, chance, and, at +bottom, vile ones—of those to which people later do not confess to +themselves—were suddenly fulfilled. It was the turn of Soloviev’s lesson. To +his great happiness, Liubka had at last read through almost without faltering: +“A good plough has Mikhey, and a good one has Sisoi as well... a swallow... a +swing ... the children love God...” And as a reward for this Soloviev read +aloud to her Of the Merchant Kalashnikov and of Kiribeievich, Life-guardsman of +Czar Ivan the Fourth. Liubka from delight bounced in her armchair, clapped her +hands. The beauty of this monumental, heroic work had her in its grasp. But she +did not have a chance to express her impressions in full. Soloviev was hurrying +to a business appointment. And immediately, coming to meet Soloviev, having +barely exchanged greetings with him in the doorway, came Simanovsky. Liubka’s +face sadly lengthened and her lips pouted. For this pedantic teacher and coarse +male had become very repugnant to her of late. +</p> + +<p> +This time he began a lecture on the theme that for man there exist no laws, no +rights, no duties, no honour, no vileness; and that man is a quantity +self-sufficient, independent of anyone and anything. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s possible to be a God, possible to be an intestinal worm, a tape worm—it’s +all the same.” +</p> + +<p> +He already wanted to pass on to the theory of amatory emotions; but, it is to +be regretted, he hurried a trifle from impatience: he embraced Liubka, drew her +to him and began to squeeze her roughly. “She’ll become intoxicated from +caressing. She’ll give in!” thought the calculating Simanovsky. He sought to +touch her mouth with his lips for a kiss, but she screamed and snorted spit at +him. All the assumed delicacy had left her. +</p> + +<p> +“Get out, you mangy devil, fool, swine, dirt! I’ll smash your snout for you! +...” +</p> + +<p> +All the lexicon of the establishment had come back to her; but Simanovsky, +having lost his pince-nez, his face distorted, was looking at her with blurred +eyes and jabbering whatever came into his head: +</p> + +<p> +“My dear ... It’s all the same ... a second of enjoyment! ... You and I will +blend in enjoyment! ... No one will find out! ... Be mine! ...” +</p> + +<p> +It was just at this very minute that Lichonin walked into the room. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, at soul he did not admit to himself that this minute he would commit +a vileness; but only somehow from the side, at a distance, reflected that his +face was pale, and that his immediate words would be tragic and of great +significance. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” he said dully, like an actor in the fourth act of a drama; and, letting +his hands drop impotently, began to shake his chin, which had fallen upon his +breast. “I expected everything, only not this. You I excuse, Liuba—you are a +cave being; but you, Simanovsky ... I esteemed you ... however, I still esteem +you a decent man. But I know, that passion is at times stronger than the +arguments of reason. Right here are fifty roubles—I am leaving them for Liuba; +you, of course, will return them to me later, I have no doubt of that. Arrange +her destiny ... You are a wise, kind, honest man, while I am ... (“A skunk!” +somebody’s distinct voice flashed through his head.) I am going away, because I +will not be able to bear this torture any more. Be happy.” +</p> + +<p> +He snatched out of his pocket and with effect threw his wallet on the table; +then seized his hair and ran out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Still, this was the best way out for him. And the scene had been played out +precisely as he had dreamt of it. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap0301"></a> PART THREE</h2> + +<h3> CHAPTER I.</h3> + +<p> +All this Liubka told at length and disjointedly, sobbing on Jennka’s shoulder. +Of course, in her personal elucidation this tragi-comical history proved +altogether unlike what it had been in reality. +</p> + +<p> +Lichonin, according to her words, had taken her to him only to entice, to tempt +her; to have as much use as possible out of her foolishness, and then to +abandon her. But she, the fool, had in truth fallen in love—with him, and since +she was very jealous about him and all these tousled girls in leather belts, he +had done a low-down thing: had sent up his comrade on purpose, had framed it up +with him, and the other had begun to hug Liubka, and Vasska came in, saw it, +and kicked up a great row, and chased Liubka out into the street. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, in her version there were two almost equal parts of truth and +untruth; but so, at least, all this had appeared to her. +</p> + +<p> +She also told with great details how, having found herself without masculine +support or without anybody’s powerful extraneous influence, she had hired a +room In a rather bad little hotel, on a retired street; how even from the first +day the boots, a tough bird, a hard-boiled egg, had attempted to trade in her, +without even having and Vasska came in, saw it, and kicked up a great row, the +hotel to a private room, but even there had been overtaken by an experienced +old woman go-between, with whose like the houses inhabited by poverty swarm. +</p> + +<p> +Therefore, even with quiet living, there was in the face, in the conversation, +and in the entire manner of Liubka something peculiar, specific to the casual +eye; perhaps even entirely imperceptible, but for the business scent as plain +and as irrefutable as the day. +</p> + +<p> +But the chance, brief, sincere love had given her the strength to oppose the +inevitability of a second fall. In her heroic courage she even went so far as +putting in a few notices in the newspapers, that she was seeking a place with +“all found.” However, she had no recommendation of any sort. In addition, she +had to do exclusively with women when it came to the hiring; and they also, +with some sort of an inner, infallible instinct, surmised in her their ancient +foe—the seductress of their husbands, brothers, fathers, and sons. +</p> + +<p> +There was neither sense nor use in going home. Her native Vassilkovsky district +is distant only fifteen versts from the state capital; and the rumour that she +had entered that sort of an establishment had long since penetrated, by means +of her fellow-villagers, into the village. This was written of in letters, and +transmitted verbally, by those village neighbours who had seen her both on the +street and at Anna Markovna’s place itself—porters and bell-hops of hotels, +waiters at small restaurants, cabbies, small contractors. She knew what odour +this fame would give off if she were to return to her native haunts. It were +better to hang one’s self than to endure this. +</p> + +<p> +She was as uneconomical and impractical in money matters as a five-year-old +child, and in a short while was left without a kopeck; while to go back to the +brothel was fearful and shameful. But the temptations of street prostitution +turned up of themselves, and at every step begged to be seized. In the +evenings, on the main street, old hardened street prostitutes at once +unerringly guessed her former profession. Ever and anon one of them, having +come alongside of her, would begin in a sweet, ingratiating voice: +</p> + +<p> +“How is it, young lady, that you’re walking alone? Let’s be mates. Let’s walk +together. That’s always more convenient. Whenever men want to pass the time +pleasantly with girls, they always love to start a party of four.” +</p> + +<p> +And right here the experienced, tried recruiting agent, at first casually, but +after that warmly, with all her heart, would begin to praise up all the +conveniences of living at your own landlady’s—the tasty food, full freedom of +going out, the possibility of always concealing from the landlady of your rooms +the surplus over the agreed pay. Here also much of the malicious and the +offensive was said, by the way, against the women of the private houses, who +were called “government hides,” “government stuff,” “genteel maidens” and +“institutes.” Liubka knew the value of these sneers, because the dwellers in +brothels also bear themselves with the greatest contempt toward street +prostitutes, calling them “bimmies” and “venereals.” +</p> + +<p> +To be sure, in the very end that happened which had to happen. Seeing in +perspective a whole series of hungry days, and in the very depth of them the +dark horror of an unknown future, Liubka consented to a very civil invitation +of some respectable little old man; important, grayish, well-dressed and +correct. For this ignominy Liubka received a rouble, but did not dare to +protest: the previous life in the house had entirely eaten away her personal +initiative, mobility and energy. Later, several times running, he even did not +pay her anything at all. +</p> + +<p> +One young man, easy of manner and handsome, in a cap with a flattened brim, put +on at a brave slant over one ear, in a silk blouse, girdled by a cord with +tassels, also led her with him into a hotel, asked for wine and a snack; for a +long time lied to Liubka about his being an earl’s son on the wrong side of the +blanket, and that he was the first billiardist in the whole city; that all the +wenches like him and that he would make a swell Jane out of Liubka as well. +Then he went out of the room for just one minute, as though on business of his +own, and vanished forever. The stern, cross-eyed porter beat her with +contentment, long, in silence, with a business-like air; breathing hard and +covering up Liubka’s mouth with his hand. But in the end, having become +convinced, probably, that the fault was not hers, but the guest’s, he took her +purse, in which was a rouble with some small change, away from her; and took as +security her rather cheap little hat and small outer jacket. +</p> + +<p> +Another man of forty-five years, not at all badly dressed, having tortured the +girl for some two hours, paid for the room and gave her 80 kopecks; but when +she started to complain, he with a ferocious face put an enormous red-haired +fist up to her very nose, the first thing, and said decisively: +</p> + +<p> +“You just snivel a bit more to me... I’ll snivel you... I’ll yell for the +police, now, and say that you robbed me when I was sleeping. Want me to? Is it +long since you’ve been in a station house?” +</p> + +<p> +And went away. +</p> + +<p> +And of such cases there were many. +</p> + +<p> +On that day, when her landlords—a boatman and his wife—had refused to let her +have a room and just simply threw her things out into the yard; and when she +had wandered the night through on the streets, without sleep, under the rain, +hiding from the policemen—only then, with aversion and shame, did she resolve +to turn to Lichonin’s aid. But Lichonin was no longer in town pusillanimously, +he had gone away the very same day when the unjustly wronged and disgraced +Liubka had run away from the flat. And it was in the morning that there came +into her head the desperate thought of returning into the brothel and begging +forgiveness there. +</p> + +<p> +“Jennechka, you’re so clever, so brave, so kind; beg Emma Edwardovna for me—the +little housekeeper will listen to you,” she implored Jennka and kissed her bare +shoulders and wetted them with tears. +</p> + +<p> +“She won’t listen to anybody,” gloomily answered Jennka. “And you did have to +tie up with a fool and a low-down fellow like that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jennechka, but you yourself advised me to,” timidly retorted Liubka. +</p> + +<p> +“I advised you? ... I didn’t advise you anything. What are you lying on me for, +just as though I was dead... Well, all right then—let’s go.” +</p> + +<p> +Emma Edwardovna had already known for a long while about the return of Liubka; +and had even seen her at that moment when she had passed through the yard of +the house, looking all around her. At soul she was not at all against taking +Liubka back. It must be said, that she had even let her go only because she had +been tempted by the money, one-half of which she had appropriated for herself. +And in addition to that, she had reckoned that with the present seasonal influx +of new prostitutes she would have a large choice; in which, however, she had +made a mistake, because the season had terminated abruptly. But in any case, +she had firmly resolved to take Liubka. Only it was necessary, for the +preservation and rounding out of prestige, to give her a scare befittingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Wha-at?” she began to yell at Liubka, scarcely having heard her out, babbling +in confusion. “You want to be taken on again? ... You wallowed the devil knows +with whom in the streets, under the fences; and now, you scum, you’re again +shoving your way into a respectable, decent establishment! ... Pfui, you +Russian swine! Out! ...” +</p> + +<p> +Liubka was catching her hands, aiming to kiss them, but the housekeeper roughly +snatched them away. Then, suddenly paling, with a distorted face, biting her +trembling, twisted lower lip, Emma calculatingly and with good aim struck +Liubka on her cheek, with all her might; from which the other went down on her +knees, but got up right away, gasping for breath and stammering from the sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“Darlingest, don’t beat me... Oh my dear, don’t beat me...” +</p> + +<p> +And again fell down, this time flat upon the floor. +</p> + +<p> +And this systematic, malignant slaughter, in cold blood, continued for some two +minutes. Jennka, who had at first been looking on with her customary malicious, +disdainful air, suddenly could not stand it; she began to squeal savagely, +threw herself upon the housekeeper, clutched her by the hair, tore off her +chignon and began to vociferate in a real hysterical fit: +</p> + +<p> +“Fool! ... Murderer! ... Low-down go-between! ... Thief! ...” +</p> + +<p> +All the three women vociferated together, and at once enraged wails resounded +through all the corridors and rooms of the establishment. This was that general +fit of grand hysterics, which takes possession of those confined in prisons, or +that elemental insanity (raptus), which envelops unexpectedly and epidemically +an entire lunatic asylum, from which even experienced psychiatrists grow pale. +</p> + +<p> +Only after the lapse of an hour was order restored by Simeon and two comrades +by profession who had come to his aid. All the thirteen girls got it hot; but +Jennka, who had gone into a real frenzy, more than the others. The beaten-up +Liubka kept on crawling before the housekeeper until she was taken back. She +knew that Jennka’s outbreak would sooner or later be reflected upon her in a +cruel repayment. Jennka sat on her bed until the very night, her legs crossed +Turkish fashion; refused dinner, and chased out all her mates who went in to +her. Her eye was bruised, and she assiduously applied a five-kopeck copper to +it. From underneath the torn shirt a long, transversal scratch reddened on the +neck, just like a mark from a rope. That was where Simeon had torn off her skin +in the struggle. She sat thus, alone, with eyes that glowed in the dark like a +wild beast’s, with distended nostrils, with spasmodically moving cheek-bones, +and whispered wrathfully: +</p> + +<p> +“Just you wait... Watch out, you damned things—I’ll show you... You’ll see +yet... Ooh-ooh, you man-eaters...” +</p> + +<p> +But when the lights had been lit, and the junior housekeeper, Zociya, knocked +on her door with the words: “Miss, get dressed! ... Into the drawing room!” she +rapidly washed herself, dressed, put some powder on the bruise, smeared the +scratch over with CREME DE SIMON and pink powder, and went out into the drawing +room, pitiful but proud; beaten-up, but her eyes flaming with an unbearable +wrathfulness and a beauty not human. +</p> + +<p> +Many people, who have happened to see suicides a few hours before their +horrible death, say that in their visages in those fateful hours before death +they have noticed some enigmatic, mysterious, incomprehensible allurement. And +all who saw Jennka on this night, and on the next day for a few hours, for +long, intently and in wonder, kept their gaze upon her. +</p> + +<p> +And strangest of all (this was one of the sombre wiles of fate) was the fact +that the indirect culprit of her death, the last grain of sand which draws down +the pan of the scales, appeared none other than the dear, most kind, military +cadet Kolya Gladishev. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0302"></a> CHAPTER II.</h3> + +<p> +Kolya Gladishev was a fine, merry, bashful young lad, with a large head; +pink-cheeked, with a funny little white, bent line, as though from milk, upon +his upper lip, under the light down of the moustache, sprouting through for the +first time; with gray, naive eyes, placed far apart; and so closely cropped, +that from underneath his flaxen little bristles the skin glistened through, +just as with a thoroughbred Yorkshire suckling pig. It was precisely he with +whom Jennka during the past winter had played either at maternal relations, or +at dolls; and thrust upon him a little apple or a couple of bon-bons on his +way, when he would be going away from the house of ill repute, squirming from +shame. +</p> + +<p> +This time, when he came, there could at once be felt in him, after long living +in camps, that rapid change in age, which so often imperceptibly and rapidly +transforms a boy into a youth. He had already finished the cadet academy and +with pride counted himself a junker; although he still walked around in a +cadet’s uniform, with aversion. He had grown taller, had become better formed +and more adroit; the camp life had done him good. He spoke in a bass, and +during these months to his most great pride the nipples of his breast had +hardened; the most important—he already knew about this—and undeniable sign of +virile maturity. Now, in the meanwhile, until the eyes-front severities of a +military school, he had a period of alluring freedom. Already he was permitted +to smoke at home, in the presence of grown-ups; and even his father had himself +presented him with a leather cigar case with his monogram, and also, in the +elevation of family joy, had assigned him fifteen roubles monthly salary. +</p> + +<p> +And it was just here—at Anna Markovna’s—that he had come to know woman for the +first time—the very same Jennka. +</p> + +<p> +The fall of innocent souls in houses of ill-fame, or with street solitaries, is +fulfilled far more frequently than it is usually thought. When not green youths +only, but even honourable men of fifty, almost grandfathers, are interrogated +about this ticklish matter, they will tell you, sure enough, the ancient +stencilled lie of how they had been seduced by a chambermaid or a governess. +But this is one of those lingering, queer lies, going back into the depth of +past decades, which are almost never noticed by a single one of the +professional observers, and in any case are not described by any one. +</p> + +<p> +If each one of us will try, to put it pompously, to put his hand on his heart, +then every one will catch himself in the fact, that having once in childhood +said some sort of boastful or touching fiction, which had success, and having +repeated it for that reason two and five and ten times more—he afterwards +cannot get rid of it all his life, and repeats with entire firmness by now a +history which had never been; a firmness such that in the very end he believes +the story. With time Kolya also narrated to his comrades how his aunt once +removed, a young woman of the world had seduced him. It must be said, however, +that the intimate proximity to this lady—a large, dark-eyed, white faced, +sweetly fragrant southern woman—did really exist; but existed only in Kolya’s +imagination, in those sad, tragic and timid minutes of solitary sexual +enjoyments, through which pass if not a hundred percent of all men, then +ninety-nine, in any case. +</p> + +<p> +Having experienced mechanical sexual excitements very early, approximately +since nine or nine years and a half, Kolya did not at all have the least +understanding of the significance of that end of being in love or of courtship, +which is so horrible on the face of it, if it be looked at impartially, or if +it be explained scientifically. Unfortunately, there was at that time near him +not a one of the present progressive and learned ladies who, having turned away +the neck of the classic stork, and torn up by the roots the cabbage underneath +which children are found, recommend that the great mystery of love and +generation be explained to children in lectures, through comparisons and +assimilations, mercilessly and in a well-nigh graphic manner. +</p> + +<p> +It must be said, that at that remote time of which we are speaking, the private +institutions—male PENSIONS and institutes, as well as academies for +cadets—represented some sort of hot-house nurseries. The care of the mind and +morality they tried to entrust as much as possible to educators who were +bureaucrats-formalists; and in addition impatient, captious, capricious in +their sympathies and hysterical, just like old maid lady teachers. Now it is +otherwise. But at that time the boys were left to themselves. Barely snatched +away, speaking figuratively, from the maternal breast; from the care of devoted +nurses; from morning and evening caresses, quiet and sweet; even though they +were ashamed of every manifestation of tenderness as “womanishness,” they were +still irresistibly and sweetly drawn to kisses, contacts, conversations +whispered in the ear. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, attentive, solicitous treatment, bathing, exercises in the open +air—precisely not gymnastics, but voluntary exercises, each to his own +taste—could have always put off the coming of this climacteric period or soften +and make it understandable. +</p> + +<p> +I repeat—then there was nothing of this. +</p> + +<p> +The longing for family endearment, the endearment of mother, sister, nurse, so +roughly and unexpectedly cut short, turned into deformed forms of courting +(every whit like the “crushes” in a female institute) of good-looking boys, of +“fairies”; they loved to whisper in corners and, walking arm in arm, or +embracing in dark corridors, to tell in each other’s ears improbable histories +of adventures with women. This was partly both childhood’s need of the +fairy-tale element and partly awakening sensuality as well. Not infrequently +some fifteen-year-old chubby, for whom it was just the proper time to be +playing at popular tennis or to be greedily putting away buckwheat porridge +with milk, would be telling, having read up, of course, on certain cheap +novels, of how every Saturday, now, when it is leave, he goes to a certain, +handsome widow millionairess; and of how she is passionately enamored of him; +and how near their couch always stand fruits and precious wine; and how +furiously and passionately she makes love to him. +</p> + +<p> +Here, by the bye, came along the inevitable run of prolonged reading, like hard +drinking, which, of course, every boy and girl has undergone. No matter how +strict in this respect the class surveillance may be, the striplings did read, +are reading, and will read just that which is not permitted them. Here is a +special passion, CHIC, the allurement of the forbidden. Already in the third +class went from hand to hand the manuscript transcripts of Barkov; of a +spurious Pushkin; the youthful sins of Lermontov and others: “THE FIRST NIGHT,” +“THE CHERRY,” “LUCAS,” “THE FESTIVAL AT PETERHOF,” “THE SHE UHLAN, GRIEF +THROUGH WISDOM,” “THE PRIEST,” &c. +</p> + +<p> +But no matter how strange, fictitious or paradoxical this may seem, still, even +these compositions, and drawings, and obscene photographic cards, did not +arouse a delightful curiosity. They were looked upon as a prank, a lark, and +the allurement of contraband risk. In the cadets’ library were chaste excerpts +from Pushkin and Lermontov; all of Ostrovsky, who only made you laugh; and +almost all of Turgenev, who was the very one that played a chief and cruel role +in Kolya’s life. As it is known, love with the late great Turgenev is always +surrounded with a tantalizing veil; some sort of crepe, unseizable, forbidden, +but tempting: his maidens have forebodings of love and are agitated at its +approach, and are ashamed beyond all measure, and tremble, and turn red. +Married women or widows travel this tortuous path somewhat differently: they +struggle for a long time with their duty, or with respectability, or with the +opinion of the world; and, in the end—oh!—fall with tears; or—oh!—begin to +brave it; or, which is still more frequent, the implacable fate cuts short her +or his life at the most—oh!—necessary moment, when it only lacks a light puff +of wind for the ripened fruit to fall. And yet all of his personages still +thirst after this shameful love; weep radiantly and laugh joyously from it; and +it shuts out all the world for them. But since boys think entirely differently +than we grown-ups, and since everything that is forbidden, everything not said +fully, or said in secret, has in their eyes an enormous, not only twofold but +threefold interest—it is therefore natural that out of reading they drew the +hazy thought that the grown-ups were concealing something from them. +</p> + +<p> +And it must be mentioned—had not Kolya (like the majority of those of his age) +seen the chambermaid Phrociya—so rosy-cheeked, always merry, with legs of the +hardness of steel (at times he, in the heat of playing, had slapped her on the +back), had he not seen her once, when Kolya had by accident walked quickly into +papa’s cabinet, scurry out of there with all her might, covering her face with +her apron; and had he not seen that during this time papa’s face was red, with +a dark blue, seemingly lengthened nose? And Kolya had reflected: “Papa looks +like a turkey.” Had not Kolya—partly through the fondness for pranks and the +mischievousness natural to all boys, partly through tedium—accidentally +discovered in an unlocked drawer of papa’s writing table an enormous collection +of cards, whereon was represented just that which shop clerks call the crowning +of love, and worldly nincompoops—the unearthly passion? +</p> + +<p> +And had he not seen, that every time before the visit of the sweet-scented and +bestarched Paul Edwardovich, some ninny with some embassy, with whom mamma, in +imitation of the fashionable St. Petersburg promenades to the Strelka, used to +ride to the Dnieper to contemplate the sun setting on the other side of the +river, in the Chernigovskaya district—had he not seen how mamma’s bosom went, +and how her cheeks glowed under the powder; had he not detected at these +moments many new and strange things; had he not heard her voice, an altogether +unknown voice, like an actor’s; nervously breaking off, mercilessly malicious +to those of the family and the servants, and suddenly soft, like velvet, like a +green meadow under the sun, when Paul Edwardovich would arrive? Ah, if we +people who have been made wise by experience would know how much, and even too +much, the urchins and little girls surrounding us know, of whom we usually say: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, why mind Volodya (or Petie, or Katie)? ... Why, they are little. They +don’t understand anything! ...” +</p> + +<p> +So also not in vain passed for Gladishev the history of his elder brother, who +had just come out of a military school into one of the conspicuous grenadier +regiments; and, being on leave until such time when it would be possible for +him to spread his wings, lived in two separate rooms with his family. At that +time Niusha, a chambermaid, was in their service; at times they jestingly +called her signorita Anita—a seductive black-haired girl, who, if she were to +change costumes, could in appearance be taken for a dramatic actress, or a +princess of the royal blood, or a political worker. Kolya’s mother manifestly +countenanced the fact that Kolya’s brother, half in jest, half in earnest, was +allured by this girl. Of course, she had only the sole, holy, maternal +calculation: If it were destined, after all, for her Borenka to fall, then let +him give his purity, his innocence, his first physical inclination, not to a +prostitute, not to a street-walker, not to a seeker of adventures, but to a +pure girl. Of course, only a disinterested, unreasoning, truly-maternal feeling +guided her. Kolya at that time was living through the epoch of llanos, +pampases, Apaches, track-finders, and a chief by the name of “Black Panther”; +and, of course, attentively kept track of the romance of his brother, and made +his own syllogisms; at times only too correct, at times fantastic. After six +months, from behind a door, he was the witness—or more correctly the auditor—of +an outrageous scene. The wife of the general, always so respectable and +restrained, was yelling in her boudoir at signorita Anita, and cursing in the +words of a cab-driver: the signorita was in the fifth month of pregnancy. If +she had not cried, then, probably, they would simply have given her +smart-money, and she would have gone away in peace; but she was in love with +the young master, did not demand anything, and for that reason they drove her +away with the aid of the police. +</p> + +<p> +In the fifth or sixth class many of Kolya’s comrades had already tasted of the +tree of knowledge of evil. At that time it was considered in their corpus an +especial, boastful masculine chic to call all secret things by their own names. +Arkasha Shkar contracted a disease, not dangerous, but still venereal; and he +became for three whole months the object of worship of all the seniors—at that +time there were no squads yet. And many of them visited brothels; and, really, +about their sprees they spoke far more handsomely and broadly than the hussars +of the time of Denis Davidov.[23] These debauches were esteemed by them the +last word in valour and maturity. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[23] A Russian ban vivant, wit and poet (1781-1839), the overwhelming majority +of whose lyrics deals with military exploits and debauches.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +And so it happened once, that they did not exactly persuade Gladishev to go to +Anna Markovna, but rather he himself had begged to go, so weakly had he +resisted temptation. This evening he always recalled with horror, with +aversion; and dimly, just like some heavy dream. With difficulty he recalled, +how in the cab, to get up courage, he had drunk rum, revoltingly smelling of +real bedbugs; how qualmish this beastly drink made him feel; how he had walked +into the big hall, where the lights of the lustres and the candelabra on the +walls were turning round in fiery wheels; where the women moved as fantastic +pink, blue, violet splotches, and the whiteness of their necks, bosoms and arms +flashed with a blinding, spicy, victorious splendour. Some one of the comrades +whispered something in the ear of one of these fantastic figures. She ran up to +Kolya and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, you good-looking little cadet, your comrades are saying, now, that +you’re still innocent ... Let’s go ... I’ll teach you everything.” +</p> + +<p> +The phrase was said in a kindly manner; but this phrase the walls of Anna +Markovna’s establishment had already heard several thousand times. Further, +that took place which it was so difficult and painful to recall, that in the +middle of his recollections Kolya grew tired, and with an effort of the will +turned back the imagination to something else. He only remembered dimly the +revolving and spreading circles from the light of the lamp; persistent kisses; +disconcerting contacts—then a sudden sharp pain, from which one wanted both to +die in enjoyment and to cry out in terror; and then with wonder he saw his pale +shaking hands, which could not, somehow, button his clothes. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, all men have experienced this primordial tristia post coitus; but +this great moral pain, very serious in its significance and depth, passes very +rapidly, remaining, however, with the majority for a long time—sometimes for +all life—in the form of wearisomeness and awkwardness after certain moments. In +a short while Kolya became accustomed to it; grew bolder, became familiarized +with woman, and rejoiced very much over the fact that when he came into the +establishment, all the girls, and Verka before all, would call out: +</p> + +<p> +“Jennechka, your lover has come!” +</p> + +<p> +It was pleasant, in relating this to his comrades, to be plucking at an +imaginary moustache. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0303"></a> CHAPTER III.</h3> + +<p> +It was still early—about nine—of a rainy August evening. The illuminated +drawing room in the house of Anna Markovna was almost empty. Only near the very +doors a young telegraph clerk was sitting, his legs shyly and awkwardly +squeezed under his chair, and was trying to start with the thick-fleshed Katie +that worldly, unconstrained conversation which is laid down as the proper thing +in polite society at quadrille, during the intermissions between the figures of +the dance. And, also, the long-legged, aged Roly-Poly wandered over the room, +sitting down now next one girl, now another, and entertaining them all with his +fluent chatter. +</p> + +<p> +When Kolya Gladishev walked into the front hall, the first to recognize him was +the round-eyed Verka, dressed in her usual jockey costume. She began to twirl +round and round, to clap her palms, and called out: +</p> + +<p> +“Jennka, Jennka, come quicker, your little lover has come to you ... The little +cadet ... And what a handsome little fellow!” +</p> + +<p> +But Jennka was not in the drawing room at this time; a stout head-conductor had +already managed to get hold of her. +</p> + +<p> +This elderly, sedate, and majestic man was a very convenient guest, because he +never lingered in the house for more than twenty minutes, fearing to let his +train go by; and, even so, glanced at his watch all the while. During this time +he regularly drank down four bottles of beer, and, going away, infallibly gave +the girl half a rouble for candy and Simeon twenty kopecks for drink-money. +</p> + +<p> +Kolya Gladishev was not alone, but with a comrade of the same school, Petrov, +who was stepping over the threshold of a brothel for the first time, having +given in to the tempting persuasions of Gladishev. Probably, during these +minutes, he found himself in the same wild, absurd, feverish state which Kolya +himself had gone through a year and a half ago, when his legs had shook, his +mouth had grown dry, and the lights of the lamps had danced before him in +revolving wheels. +</p> + +<p> +Simeon took their great-coats from them and hid them separately, on the side, +that the shoulder straps and the buttons might not be seen. +</p> + +<p> +It must be said, that this stern man, who did not approve of students because +of their free-and-easy facetiousness and incomprehensible style in +conversation, also did not like when just such boys in uniform appeared in the +establishment. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what’s the good of it?” he would at times say sombrely to his colleagues +by profession. “What if a whippersnapper like that comes, and runs right up +nose to nose against his superiors? Smash, and they’ve closed up the +establishment! There, like Lupendikha’s three years back. Of course, it’s +nothing that they closed it up—she transferred it in another name right off; +and when they sentenced her to sit in jail for a year and a half, why, it came +to a pre-etty penny for her. She had to shell out four hundred for Kerbesh +alone ... And then it also happens: a little pig of that kind will cook up some +sort of disease for himself and start in whining: ‘Oh, papa! Oh, mamma! I am +dying!’ ‘Tell me, you skunk, where you got it?’ ‘There and there ...’ Well, and +so they haul you over the coals again; judge me, thou unrighteous judge!” +</p> + +<p> +“Pass on, pass on,” said he to the cadets sternly. +</p> + +<p> +The cadets entered, blinking from the bright light. Petrov, who had been +drinking to get up courage, swayed and was pale. They sat down beneath the +picture of the Feast of the Russian Noblemen, and immediately two of the young +ladies—Verka and Tamara—joined them on both sides. +</p> + +<p> +“Treat me to a smoke, you beautiful little brunet!” Verka turned to Petrov; and +as though by accident put against his leg her strong, warm thigh, closely drawn +over with white tights. “What an agreeable little fellow you are!” +</p> + +<p> +“But where’s Jennie?” Gladishev asked of Tamara. “Is she busy with anybody?” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara looked him in the eyes intently—looked so fixedly, that the boy even +began to feel uncomfortable, and turned away. +</p> + +<p> +“No. Why should she be busy? Only the whole day to-day her head ached; she was +walking through the corridor, and at that time the housekeeper opened the door +quickly and accidentally struck her in the forehead—and so her head started in +to ache. The poor thing, she’s lying the whole day with a cold pack. But why? +Or can’t you hold out? Wait a while, she’ll come out in five minutes. You’ll +remain very much satisfied with her.” +</p> + +<p> +Verka pestered Petrov: +</p> + +<p> +“Sweetie, dearie, what a tootsie-wootsicums you are! I adore such pale brunets; +they are jealous and very fiery in love.” +</p> + +<p> +And suddenly she started singing in a low voice: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“He’s kind of brown,<br/> +My light, my own,<br/> +Won’t sell me out, and won’t deceive.<br/> +He suffers madly,<br/> +Pants and coat gladly<br/> +All for a woman he will give.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do they call you, ducky dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“George,” answered Petrov in a hoarse, cadet’s bass. +</p> + +<p> +“Jorjik Jorochka! Ah, how very nice!” +</p> + +<p> +She suddenly drew near to his ear and whispered with a cunning face: +</p> + +<p> +“Jorochka, come to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Petrov was abashed and forlornly let out in a bass: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know ... It all depends on what the comrade says, now...” +</p> + +<p> +Verka burst into loud laughter: +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a case for you! Say, what an infant it is! Such as you, Jorochka, in a +little village would long since have been married; but he says: ‘It all depends +on the comrade!’ You ought to ask a nurse or a wet nurse yet! Tamara, my angel, +just imagine: I’m calling him to go sleeping, but he says: ‘It all depends on +the comrade.’ What about you, mister friend, are you his bringer up?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be pestering, you devil!” clumsily, altogether like a cadet before a +quarrel, grumbled out Petrov in a bass. +</p> + +<p> +The lanky, ricketty Roly-Poly, grown still grayer, walked up to the cadets, +and, inclining his long, narrow head to one side, and having made a touching +grimace, began to patter: +</p> + +<p> +“Messieurs cadets, highly educated young people; the flower, so to speak, of +the intelligentzia; future masters of ordnance, will you not lend to a little +old man, an aborigine of these herbiferous regions, one good old cigarette? I +be poor. Omnia mea mecum porto. But I do adore the weed.” +</p> + +<p> +And, having received a cigarette, suddenly, without delay, he got into a +free-and-easy, unconstrained pose; put forward the bent right leg, put his hand +to his side, and began to sing in a wizened falsetto: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“It used to be that I gave dinners,<br/> +In rivers flowed the champagne wine;<br/> +But now I have not even bread crusts,<br/> +Nor for a split, oh brother mine. +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +It used to be—in the Saratov<br/> +The doorman rushed, and was so fine;<br/> +But now all drive me in the neck,<br/> +Give for a split, oh brother mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen!” suddenly exclaimed Roly-Poly with pathos, cutting short his +singing and smiting himself on the chest. “Here I behold you, and know that you +are the future generals Skobelev and Gurko; but I, too, in a certain respect, +am a military hound. In my time, when I was studying for a forest ranger, all +our department of woods and forests was military; and for that reason, knocking +at the diamond-studded, golden doors of your hearts, I beg of you—donate toward +the raising for an ensign of taxation of a wee measure of spiritus vini, which +same is taken of the monks also.” +</p> + +<p> +“Roly!” cried the stout Kitty from the other end, “show the young officers the +lightning; or else, look you, you’re taking the money only for nothing, you +good-for-nothing camel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Right away!” merrily responded Roly-Poly. “Most illustrious benefactors, turn +your attention this way. Living Pictures. Thunder Storm on a Summer Day in +June. The work of the unrecognized dramaturgist who concealed himself under the +pseudonym of Roly-Poly. The first picture. +</p> + +<p> +“‘It was a splendid day in June. The scorching rays of the sun illumined the +blossoming meadows and environs ...’” +</p> + +<p> +Roly-Poly’s Don Quixotic phiz spread into a wrinkled, sweetish smile; and the +eyes narrowed into half-circles. +</p> + +<p> +“‘... But now in the distance the first clouds have appeared upon the horizon. +They grew, piled upon each other like crags, covering little by little the blue +vault of the sky.” +</p> + +<p> +By degrees the smile was coming off Roly-Poly’s face, and it grew more and more +serious and austere. +</p> + +<p> +“‘At last the clouds have overcast the sun ... An ominous darkness has fallen +...’” +</p> + +<p> +Roly-Poly made his physiognomy altogether ferocious. +</p> + +<p> +“‘The first drops of the rain fell ...’” +</p> + +<p> +Roly-Poly began to drum his fingers on the back of a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“‘... In the distance flashed the first lightning ... ’” +</p> + +<p> +Roly-Poly’s eye winked quickly, and the left corner of his mouth gave a twitch. +</p> + +<p> +“‘... Whereupon the rain began to pour down in torrents, and there came a +sudden, blinding flash of lightning...’” +</p> + +<p> +And with unusual artistry and rapidity Roly-Poly, with a successive movement of +his eyebrows, eyes, nose, the upper and the lower lip, portrayed a lightning +zig-zag. +</p> + +<p> +“‘... A jarring thunder clap burst out—trrroo-oo. An oak that had stood through +the ages fell down to earth, as though it were a frail reed ...’” +</p> + +<p> +And Roly-Poly with an ease and daring not to be expected from one of his years, +bending neither the knees nor the back, only drawing down his head, +instantaneously fell down; straight, like a statue, with his back to the floor, +but at once deftly sprang up on his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“‘But now the thunder storm is gradually abating. The lightning flashes less +and less often. The thunder sounds duller, just like a satiated +beast—oooooo-oooooo ... The clouds scurry away. The first rays of the blessed +sun have peeped out ...’” +</p> + +<p> +Roly-Poly made a wry smile. +</p> + +<p> +“‘... And now, the luminary of day has at last begun to shine anew over the +bathed earth ...’” +</p> + +<p> +And the silliest of beatific smiles spread anew over the senile face of +Roly-Poly. +</p> + +<p> +The cadets gave him a twenty-kopeck piece each. He laid them on his palm, made +a pass in the air with the other hand, said: ein, zwei, drei, snapped two of +his fingers, and the coins vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“Tamarochka, this isn’t honest,” he said reproachfully. “Aren’t you ashamed to +take the last money from a poor retired almost-head-officer? Why have you +hidden them here?” +</p> + +<p> +And, having snapped his fingers again, he drew the coins out of Tamara’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall return at once, don’t be bored without me,” he reassured the young +people; “but if you can’t wait for me, then I won’t have any special +pretensions about it. I have the honour! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Roly-Poly!” Little White Manka cried after him, “Won’t you buy me candy for +fifteen kopecks... Turkish Delight, fifteen kopecks’ worth. There, grab!” +</p> + +<p> +Roly-Poly neatly caught in its flight the thrown fifteen-kopeck piece; made a +comical curtsey and, pulling down the uniform cap with the green edging at a +slant over his eyes, vanished. +</p> + +<p> +The tall, old Henrietta walked up to the cadets, also asked for a smoke and, +having yawned, said: +</p> + +<p> +“If only you young people would dance a bit—for as it is the young ladies sit +and sit, just croaking from weariness.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you please, if you please!” agreed Kolya. “Play a waltz and something else +of the sort.” +</p> + +<p> +The musicians began to play. The girls started to whirl around with one +another, ceremoniously as usual, with stiffened backs and with eyes modestly +cast down. +</p> + +<p> +Kolya Gladishev, who was very fond of dancing, could not hold out and invited +Tamara; he knew even from the previous winter that she danced more lightly and +skillfully than the rest. While he was twirling in the waltz, the stout +head-conductor, skillfully making his way between the couples, slipped away +unperceived through the drawing room. Kolya did not have a chance to notice +him. +</p> + +<p> +No matter how Verka pressed Petrov, she could not, in any way, drag him off his +place. The recent light intoxication had by now gone entirely out of his head; +and more and more horrible, and unrealizable, and monstrous did that for which +he had come here seem to him. He might have gone away, saying that not a one +here pleased him; have put the blame on a headache, or something; but he knew +that Gladishev would not let him go; and mainly—it seemed unbearably hard to +get up from his place and to walk a few steps by himself. And, besides that, he +felt that he had not the strength to start talking of this with Kolya. +</p> + +<p> +They finished dancing. Tamara and Gladishev again sat down side by side. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, really, how is it that Jennechka isn’t coming by now?” asked Kolya +impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +Tamara quickly gave Verka a look with a question, incomprehensible to the +uninitiated, in her eyes. Verka quickly lowered her eyelashes. This signified: +yes, he is gone. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go right away and call her,” said Tamara. +</p> + +<p> +“But what are you so stuck on your Jennka for,” said Henrietta. “You might take +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, another time,” answered Kolya and nervously began to smoke. +</p> + +<p> +Jennka was not even beginning to dress yet. She was sitting before the mirror +and powdering her face. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Tamarochka?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Your little cadet has come to you. He’s waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that’s the little baby of last year... Well, the devil with him!” +</p> + +<p> +“And that’s right, too. But how healthy and handsome the lad has grown, and how +tall... It’s a delight, that’s all! So if you don’t want to, I’ll go myself.” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara saw in the mirror how Jennka contracted her eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“No, you wait a while, Tamara, don’t. I’ll see. Send him here to me. Say that +I’m not well, that my head aches.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have already told him, anyway, that Zociya had opened the door +unsuccessfully and hit you on the head; and that you’re lying down with a cold +pack. But the only thing is, is it worth while, Jennechka?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whether it’s worth while or not, that’s not your business, Tamara,” answered +Jennka rudely. +</p> + +<p> +Tamara asked cautiously: +</p> + +<p> +“Is it possible, then, that you aren’t at all, at all sorry?” +</p> + +<p> +“But for me you aren’t sorry?” and she passed her hand over the red stripe that +slashed her throat. “And for yourself you aren’t sorry? And not sorry for this +Liubka, miserable as she is? And not sorry for Pashka? You’re huckleberry +jelly, and not a human being!” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara smiled craftily and haughtily: +</p> + +<p> +“No, when it comes to a real matter, I’m not jelly. Perhaps you’ll see this +soon, Jennechka. Only let’s better not quarrel—as it is it isn’t any too sweet +to live. All right, I’ll go at once and send him to you.” +</p> + +<p> +When she had gone away, Jennka lowered the light in the little hanging blue +lantern, put on her night blouse, and lay down. A minute later Gladishev walked +in; and after him Tamara, dragging Petrov by the hand, who resisted and kept +his head down. And in the rear was thrust in the pink, sharp, foxy little phiz +of the cross-eyed housekeeper Zociya. +</p> + +<p> +“And that’s fine, now,” the housekeeper commenced to bustle. “It’s just sweet +to look at; two handsome gents and two swell dames. A regular bouquet. What +shall I treat you with, young people? Will you order beer or wine?” +</p> + +<p> +Gladishev had a great deal of money in his pocket, as much as he never had +before during all his brief life—all of twenty-five roubles; and he wanted to +go on a splurge. Beer he drank only out of bravado, but could not bear its +bitter taste, and wondered himself how others could ever drink it. And for that +reason, squeamishly, like an old rake, sticking out his lower lip, he said +mistrustfully: +</p> + +<p> +“But then, you surely must have some awful stuff?” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, what do you mean, good-looking! The very best gentlemen +approve of it. Of the sweet, there are Cagore, church wine, Teneriffe; while of +the French there’s Lafitte. You can get port wine also. The girls just simply +adore Lafitte with lemonade.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what are the prices?” +</p> + +<p> +“No dearer than money. As is the rule in all good establishments—a bottle of +Lafitte five roubles, four bottles of lemonade at a half each, that’s two +roubles, and only seven in all...” +</p> + +<p> +“That’ll do you, Zociya,” Jennka stopped her indifferently, “it’s a shame to +take advantage of boys. Even five is enough. You can see these are decent +people, and not just anybody...” +</p> + +<p> +But Gladishev turned red, and with a negligent air threw a ten rouble note on +the table. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, what’s the use of talking about it. All right, bring it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Whilst I’m at it, I’ll take the money for the visit as well. What about you, +young people—are you on time or for the night? You know the rates yourself: on +time, at two roubles; for the night, at five.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right, all right. On time,” interrupted Jennka, flaring up. “Trust us in +that, at least.” +</p> + +<p> +The wine was brought. Tamara through importunity got pastry, besides. Jennka +asked for permission to call in Little White Manka. Jennka herself did not +drink, did not get up from the bed, and all the time muffled herself up in a +gray shawl of Orenburg[24] manufacture, although it was hot in the room. She +looked fixedly, without tearing her eyes away, at the handsome, sunburned face +of Gladishev, which had become so manly. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[24] Orenburg has as high a reputation for woolens as Sheffield has for +steel.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with you, dearie?” asked Gladishev, sitting down on her bed +and stroking her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing special... Head aches a little... I hit myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t you pay any attention.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, here I’ve seen you, and already I feel better. How is it you haven’t +been here for so long?” +</p> + +<p> +“I couldn’t snatch away the time, nohow-camping. You know yourself... We had to +put away twenty-five versts a day. The whole day drilling and drilling: field, +formation, garrison. With a full pack. Used to get so fagged out from morning +to night that towards evening you couldn’t feel your legs under you... We were +at the manoeuvres also... It isn’t sweet...” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you poor little things!” Little White Manka suddenly clasped her hands. +“And what do they torture you for, angels that you are? If I was to have a +brother like you, or a son—my heart would just simply bleed. Here’s to your +health, little cadet!” +</p> + +<p> +They clinked glasses. Jennka was just as attentively scrutinizing Gladishev. +</p> + +<p> +“And you, Jennechka?” he asked, extending a glass. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to,” she answered listlessly, “but, however, ladies, you’ve drunk +some wine, chatted a bit—don’t wear the welcome off the mat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you’ll stay with me the whole night?” she asked Gladishev, when the +others had gone away. “Don’t you be afraid, dearie; if you won’t have enough +money, I’ll pay the difference for you. You see, how good-looking you are, that +a wench does not grudge even money for you?” she began laughing. +</p> + +<p> +Gladishev turned around to her; even his unobserving ear was struck by Jennka’s +strange tone—neither sad, nor kindly, nor yet mocking. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sweetie, I’d be very glad to; I’d like to remain myself, but I can’t +possibly; I promised to be home toward ten o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s nothing, dear, they’ll wait; you’re altogether a grown-up man now. Is +it possible that you have to listen to anybody? ... But, however, as you wish. +Shall I put out the light entirely, perhaps; or is it all right the way it is? +Which do you want—the outside or near the wall?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s immaterial to me,” he answered in a quavering voice; and, having embraced +with his arm the hot, dry body of Jennka, he stretched with his lips toward her +face. She slightly repulsed him. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, bear a while, sweetheart—we have time enough to kiss our fill yet. Just +lie still for one little minute... So, now... quiet, peaceful... don’t stir...” +</p> + +<p> +These words, passionate and imperious, acted like hypnosis upon Gladishev. He +submitted to her and lay down on his back, putting his hands underneath his +head. She raised herself a little, leant upon her elbow, and placing her head +upon the bent hand, silently, in the faint half-light, was looking his body +over—so white, strong, muscular; with a high and broad pectoral cavity; with +well-made ribs; with a narrow pelvis; and with mighty, bulging thighs. The dark +tan of the face and the upper half of the neck was divided by a sharp line from +the whiteness of the shoulders and breast. +</p> + +<p> +Gladishev blinked for a second. It seemed to him that he was feeling upon +himself, upon his face, upon his entire body, this intensely fixed gaze, which +seemed to touch his face and tickle it, like the cobwebby contact of a comb, +which you first rub against a cloth—the sensation of a thin, imponderous, +living matter. +</p> + +<p> +He opened his eyes and saw altogether near him the large, dark, uncanny eyes of +the woman, who seemed to him now an entire stranger. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you looking at, Jennie?” he asked quietly. “What are you thinking +of?” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear little boy! ...They call you Kolya: isn’t that so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be angry at me, carry out a certain caprice of mine, please: shut your +eyes again... no, even tighter, tighter... I want to turn up the light and have +a good look at you. There now, so... If you only knew how beautiful you are +now... right now... this second. Later you will become coarse, and you will +begin giving off a goatish smell; but now you give off an odour of fur and +milk... and a little of some wild flower. But shut them—shut your eyes!” +</p> + +<p> +She added light, returned to her place, and sat down in her favourite +pose—Turkish fashion. Both kept silent. In the distance, several rooms away, a +broken-down grand piano was tinkling; somebody’s vibrating laughter floated in; +while from the other side—a little song, and rapid, merry talking. The words +could not be heard. A cabby was rumbling by somewhere through the distant +street... +</p> + +<p> +“And now I will infect him right away, just like all the others,” pondered +Jennka, gliding with a deep gaze over his well-made legs, his handsome torso of +a future athlete, and over his arms, thrown back, upon which, above the bend of +the elbow, the muscles tautened—bulging, firm. “Why, then, am I so sorry for +him? Or is it because he is such a good-looking little fellow? No. I am long +since a stranger to such feelings. Or is it because he is a boy? Why, only a +little over a year ago I shoved apples in his pocket, when he was going away +from me at night. Why have I not told him then that which, I can, and dare, +tell him now? Or would he not have believed me, anyway? Would have grown angry? +Would have gone to another? For sooner or later this turn awaits every man... +And that he bought me for money—can that be forgiven? Or did he act just as all +of them do—blindly? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Kolya!” she said quietly, “Open your eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed, opened his eyes, turned to her; entwined her neck with his arm, drew +her a little to him, and wanted to kiss her in the opening of her chemise—on +the breast. She again tenderly but commandingly repulsed him. +</p> + +<p> +“No, wait a while, wait a while—hear me out... one little minute more. Tell me, +boy, why do you come here to us—to the women?” +</p> + +<p> +Kolya quietly and hoarsely began laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“How silly you are! Well, what do they all come for? Am I not also a man? For, +it seems, I’m at that age when in every man ripens... well, a certain need... +for woman. For I’m not going to occupy myself with all sorts of nastiness!” +</p> + +<p> +“Need? Only need? That means, just as for that chamber which stands under my +bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, why so?” retorted Kolya, with a kindly laugh. “I liked you very much... +From the very first time... If you will, I’m even... a little in love with +you... at least, I never stayed with any of the others.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, all right! But then, the first time, could it possibly have been need?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, perhaps, it wasn’t need even; but somehow, vaguely, I wanted woman... My +friends talked me into it... Many had already gone here before me... So then, I +too...” +</p> + +<p> +“But, now, weren’t you ashamed the first time?” +</p> + +<p> +Kolya became confused; all this interrogation was to him unpleasant, +oppressive. He felt, that this was not the empty, idle bed talk, so well known +to him, out of his small experience; but something else, of more import. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s say... not that I was ashamed... well, but still I felt kind of awkward. +I drank that time to get up courage.” +</p> + +<p> +Jennie again lay down on her side; leaned upon her elbow, and again looked at +him from time to time, near at hand and intently. +</p> + +<p> +“But tell me, sweetie,” she asked, in a barely audible voice, so that the cadet +with difficulty made out her words, “tell me one thing more; but the fact of +your paying money, these filthy two roubles—do you understand?—paying them for +love, so that I might caress, kiss you, give all my body to you—didn’t you feel +ashamed to pay for that? Never?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God! What strange questions you put to me to-day! But then they all pay +money! Not I, then some one else would have paid—isn’t it all the same to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“And have you been in love with any one, Kolya? Confess! Well, now, if not in +real earnest, then just so... at soul... Have you done any courting? Brought +little flowers of some sort... Strolled arm-in-arm with her under the moon? +Wasn’t that so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes,” said Koiya in a sedate bass. “What follies don’t happen in one’s +youth! It’s a matter anyone can understand...” +</p> + +<p> +“Some sort of a little first cousin? An educated young lady? A boarding school +miss? A high school girl? ... There has been, hasn’t there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, of course—everybody has them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you wouldn’t have touched her, would you? ... You’d have spared her? +Well, if she had only said to you: take me, but only give me two roubles—what +would you have said to her?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand you, Jennka!” Gladishev suddenly grew angry. “What are you +putting on airs for! What sort of comedy are you trying to put over! Honest to +God, I’ll dress myself at once and go away.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a while, wait a while, Kolya! One more, one more, the last, the very, +very last question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you!” growled Kolya displeased. +</p> + +<p> +“And could you never imagine... well, imagine it right now, even for a +second... that your family has suddenly grown poor, become ruined. You’d have +to earn your bread by copying papers; or, now, let’s say, through carpenter or +blacksmith work; and your sister was to go wrong, like all of us... yes, yes, +yours, your own sister... if some blockhead seduced her and she was to go +travelling... from hand to hand... what would you say then?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bosh! ... That can’t be...” Kolya cut her short curtly. “But, however, that’s +enough—I’m going away!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go away, do me that favour! I’ve ten roubles lying there, near the mirror, in +a little box from chocolates—take them for yourself. I don’t need them, anyway. +Buy with them a tortoise powder box with a gold setting for your mamma; and if +you have a little sister, buy her a good doll. Say: in memory from a certain +wench that died. Go on, little boy!” +</p> + +<p> +Kolya, with a frown, angry, with one shove of a well-knit body jumped off the +bed, almost without touching it. Now he was standing on the little mat near the +bed, naked, well-formed, splendid in all the magnificence of his blooming, +youthful body. +</p> + +<p> +“Kolya!” Jennka called him quietly, insistently and caressingly. “Kolechka!” +</p> + +<p> +He turned around to her call, and drew in the air in a short, jerky gust, as +though he had gasped: he had never yet in his life met anywhere, even in +pictures, such a beautiful expression of tenderness, sorrow, and womanly silent +reproach, as the one he was just now beholding in the eyes of Jennka, filled +with tears. He sat down on the edge of the bed, and impulsively embraced her +around the bared, swarthy arms. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s not quarrel, then, Jennechka,” he said tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +And she twined herself around him, placed her arms on his neck, while her head +she pressed against his breast. They kept silent so for several seconds. +</p> + +<p> +“Kolya,” Jennie suddenly asked dully, “but were you never afraid of becoming +infected?” +</p> + +<p> +Kolya shivered. Some chill, loathsome horror stirred and glided through within +his soul. He did not answer at once. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, that would be horrible... horrible... God save me! But then I go +only to you alone, only to you! You’d surely have told me? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’d have told you,” she uttered meditatively. And at once rapidly, +consciously, as though having weighed the significance of her words: “Yes, of +course, of course, I would have told you! But haven’t you ever heard what sort +of a thing is that disease called syphilis?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I’ve heard... The nose falls through...” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Kolya, not only the nose! The person becomes all diseased: his bones, +sinews, brains grow diseased... Some doctors say such nonsense as that it’s +possible to be cured of this disease. Bosh! You’ll never cure yourself! A +person rots ten, twenty, thirty years. Every second paralysis can strike him +down, so that the right side of the face, the right arm, the right leg die—it +isn’t a human being that’s living, but some sort of a little half. +Half-man-half-corpse. The majority of them go out of their minds. And each +understands... every person... each one so infected understands, that if he +eats, drinks, kisses, simply even breathes—he can’t be sure that he won’t +immediately infect some one of those around him, the very nearest—sister, wife, +son... To all syphilitics the children are born monsters, abortions, goitrous, +consumptives, idiots. There, Kolya, is what this disease means. And now,” +Jennka suddenly straightened up quickly, seized Kolya fast by his bare +shoulders, turned his face to her, so that he was almost blinded by the +flashing of her sorrowful, sombre, extraordinary eyes, “and now, Kolya, I will +tell you that for more than a month I am sick with this filth. And that’s just +why I haven’t allowed you to kiss me...” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re joking! ... You’re teasing me on purpose, Jennie!” muttered Gladishev, +wrathful, frightened, and out of his wits. +</p> + +<p> +“Joking? ...Come here!” +</p> + +<p> +She abruptly compelled him to get up on his feet, lit a match and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Now look closely at what I’m going to show you...” +</p> + +<p> +She opened her mouth wide and placed the light so that it would illumine her +larynx. Kolya looked and staggered back. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see these white spots? This is syphilis, Kolya! Do you +understand?—syphilis in the most fearful, the most serious stage. Now dress +yourself and thank God.” +</p> + +<p> +He, silently and without looking around at Jennka, began to dress hurriedly, +missing his clothes when he tried to put his legs through. His hands were +shaking, and his under jaw jumped so that the lower teeth knocked against the +upper; while Jennka was speaking with bowed head: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Kolya, it’s your good fortune that you’ve run across an honest woman; +another wouldn’t have spared you. Do you hear that? We, whom you deprive of +innocence and then drive out of your home, while later you pay us two roubles a +visit, we always—do you understand?”—she suddenly raised her head—“we always +hate you and never have any pity for you!” +</p> + +<p> +The half-clad Kolya suddenly dropped his dressing, sat down on the bed near +Jennka and, covering his face with his palms, burst into tears; sincerely, +altogether like a child... +</p> + +<p> +“Lord, Lord,” he whispered, “why this is the truth! ... What a vile thing this +really is! ... We, also, we had this happen: we had a chambermaid, Niusha...a +chambermaid... they also called her signorita Anita...a pretty little +girl...and my brother lived with her...my elder brother...an officer...and when +he went away, she proved pregnant and mother drove her out...well, yes—drove +her out...threw her out of the house, like a floor mop...Where is she now? And +father...father...he also with a cham...chambermaid.” +</p> + +<p> +And the half-naked Jennka, this Jennka, the atheist, swearer, and brawler, +suddenly got up from the bed, stood before the cadet, and slowly, almost +solemnly, made the sign of the cross over him. +</p> + +<p> +“And may God preserve you my boy!” she said with an expression of deep +tenderness and gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +And at once she ran to the door, opened it and called out: “Housekeeper!” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell you what, housekeeper dear,” Jennka directed, “go and find out, please, +which one of them is free—Tamara or Little White Manka. And the one that’s free +send here.” +</p> + +<p> +Kolya growled out something in the back, but Jennka purposely did not listen to +him. +</p> + +<p> +“And please make it as quick as possible, housekeeper dear, won’t you be so +kind?” +</p> + +<p> +“Right away, right away, miss.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, why do you do this, Jennie?” asked Gladishev with anguish. “Well, what’s +that for? ...Is it possible that you want to tell about it? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait awhile, that’s not your business...Wait a while, I won’t do anything +unpleasant for you.” +</p> + +<p> +After a minute Little White Manka came in her brown, smooth, deliberately +modest dress of a high school girl. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you call me for, Jennie? Or have you quarreled?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, we haven’t quarreled, Mannechka, but my head aches very much,” answered +Jennka calmly, “and for that reason my little friend finds me very cold. Be a +friend, Mannechka, stay with him, take my place!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s enough, Jennie, stop it, darling!” in a tone of sincere suffering +retorted Kolya. “I understand everything, everything, it’s not necessary now +... Don’t be finishing me off, then! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand anything of what’s happened,” the frivolous Manka spread +out her hands. “Maybe you’ll treat a poor little girl to something?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go on, go on!” Jennka sent her away gently. “I’ll come right away. We +just played a joke.” +</p> + +<p> +Already dressed, they stood for long in the open door between the bedroom and +the corridor; and without words sadly looked at each other. And Kolya did not +understand, but sensed, that at this moment in his soul was taking place one of +those tremendous crises which tell imperiously upon the entire life. +</p> + +<p> +Then he pressed Jennie’s hand hard and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive! ... Will you forgive me, Jennie? Will you forgive? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my boy! ... Yes, my fine one! ... Yes...yes...” +</p> + +<p> +She tenderly, softly, like a mother, stroked his closely cropped harsh head and +gave him, a slight shove into the corridor. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you bound now?” she sent after him, half opening her door. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll take my comrade right away, and then home.” +</p> + +<p> +“As you know best! ... God bless you, dearie!” +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me! ... Forgive me! ...” once more repeated Kolya, stretching out his +hands to her. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve already told you, my splendid boy...And you forgive me too...For we won’t +see each other anymore!” +</p> + +<p> +And she, having closed the door, was left alone. +</p> + +<p> +In the corridor Gladishev hesitated, because he did not know how to find the +room to which Petrov had retired with Tamara. But the housekeeper Zociya helped +him, running past him very quickly, and with a very anxious, alarmed air. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I haven’t time to bother with you now!” she snarled back at Gladishev’s +question. “Third door to the left.” +</p> + +<p> +Kolya walked up to the door indicated and knocked. Some sort of bustle and +whispering sounded in the room. He knocked once more. +</p> + +<p> +“Kerkovius, open! This is me—Soliterov.” +</p> + +<p> +Among the cadets, setting out on expeditions of this sort, it was always agreed +upon to call each other by fictitious names. It was not so much a conspiracy or +a shift against the vigilance of those in authority, or fear of compromising +one’s self before a chance acquaintance of the family, but rather a play, of +its own kind, at mysteriousness and disguise—a play tracing its beginning from +those times when the young people were borne away by Gustave Aimard, Mayne +Reid, and the detective Lecocq. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t come in!” the voice of Tamara came from behind the door. “You can’t +come in. We are busy.” +</p> + +<p> +But the bass voice of Petrov immediately cut her short: +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense! She’s lying. Come in. It’s all right.” +</p> + +<p> +Kolya opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +Petrov was sitting on a chair dressed, but all red, morose, with lips pouting +like a child’s, with downcast eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what a friend you’ve brought—I must say!” Tamara began speaking +sneeringly and wrathfully. “I thought he was a man in earnest, but this is only +some sort of a little girl! He’s sorry to lose his innocence, if you please. +What a treasure you’ve found, to be sure! But take back, take back your two +roubles!” she suddenly began yelling at Petrov and tossed two coins on the +table. “You’ll give them away to some poor chambermaid or other! Or else save +them for gloves for yourself, you marmot!” +</p> + +<p> +“But what are you cursing for?” grumbled Petrov, without raising his eyes. “I’m +not cursing you, am I? Then why do you curse first? I have a full right to act +as I want to. But I have passed some time with you, and so take them. But to be +forced, I don’t want to. And on your part, Gladishev—that is, Soliterov—this +isn’t at all nice. I thought she was a nice girl, but she’s trying to kiss all +the time, and does God knows what...” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara, despite her wrath, burst into laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you little stupid, little stupid! Well, don’t be angry—I’ll take your +money. Only watch: this very evening you’ll be sorry, you’ll be crying. Well, +don’t be angry, don’t be angry, angel, let’s make up. Put your hand out to me, +as I’m doing to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go, Kerkovius,” said Gladishev. “Au revoir, Tamara!” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara let the money down into her stocking, through the habit of all +prostitutes, and went to show the boys the way. +</p> + +<p> +Even at the time that they were passing through the corridor Gladishev was +struck by the strange, silent, tense bustle in the drawing room; the trampling +of feet and some muffled, low-voiced, rapid conversations. +</p> + +<p> +Near that place where they had just been sitting below the picture, all the +inmates of Anna Markovna’s house and several outsiders had gathered. They were +standing in a close knot, bending down. Kolya walked up with curiosity, and, +wedging his way through a little, looked in between the heads: on the floor, +sideways, somehow unnaturally drawn up, was lying Roly-Poly. His face was blue, +almost black. He did not move, and was lying strangely small, shrunken, with +legs bent. One arm was squeezed in under his breast, while the other was flung +back. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with him?” asked Gladishev in a fright. +</p> + +<p> +Niurka answered him, starting to speak in a rapid, jerky whisper: +</p> + +<p> +“Roly-Poly just came here...Gave Manka the candy, and then started in to put +Armenian riddles to us...’Of a blue colour, hangs in the parlor and +whistles’...We couldn’t guess nohow, but he says: ‘A herring’...Suddenly he +started laughing, had a coughing spell, and began falling sideways; and +then—bang on the ground and don’t move...They sent for the police...Lord, +there’s doings for you! ... I’m horribly afraid of corpseses!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait!” Gladishev stopped her. “It’s necessary to feel his forehead; he may be +alive yet...” +</p> + +<p> +He did try to thrust himself forward, but Simeon’s fingers, just like iron +pincers, seized him above the elbows and dragged him back. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing, there’s nothing to be inspecting,” sternly ordered Simeon, +“go on, now, young gents, out of here! This is no place for you: the police +will come, will summon you as witnesses—then it’s scat! to the devil’s dam! for +you out of the military high school! Better go while you’re good and healthy!” +</p> + +<p> +He escorted them to the entrance hall, shoved the great-coats into their hands +and added still more sternly: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now—go at a run...Lively! So’s there won’t be even a whiff of you left. +And if you come another time, then I won’t let youse in at all. You are wise +guys, you are! You gave the old hound money for whiskey—so now he’s gone and +croaked.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, don’t you get too smart, now!” Gladishev flew at him, all ruffled up. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you mean, don’t get smart? ...” Simeon suddenly began to yell +infuriatedly, and his black eyes without lashes and brows became so terrible +that the cadets shrank back. “I’ll soak you one on the snout so hard you’ll +forget how to say papa and mamma! Git, this second! Or else I’ll bust you in +the neck!” +</p> + +<p> +The boys went down the steps. +</p> + +<p> +At this time two men were going up, in cloth caps on the sides of their heads; +one in a blue, the other in a red blouse, with the skirts outside, under the +unbuttoned, wide open jackets—evidently, Simeon’s comrades in the profession. +</p> + +<p> +“What?” one of them called out gaily from below, addressing Simeon, “Is it +bye-bye for Roly-Poly?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it must be the finish,” answered Simeon. “We’ve got to throw him out into +the street in the meantime, fellows, or else the spirits will start haunting. +The devil with him, let ’em think that he drank himself full and croaked on the +road.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you didn’t ... well, now? ... You didn’t do for him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, there’s foolish talk! If there’d only been some reason. He was a +harmless fellow. Altogether like a little lamb. It must be just that his turn +came.” +</p> + +<p> +“And didn’t he find a place where to die! Couldn’t he have thought up something +worse?” said the one who was in the red shirt. +</p> + +<p> +“Right you are, there!” seconded the other. “Lived to grin and died in sin. +Well, let’s go, mate, what?” +</p> + +<p> +The cadets ran with all their might. Now, in the darkness, the figure of +Roly-Poly drawn up on the floor, with his blue face, appeared before them in +all the horror that the dead possess for early youth; and especially if +recalled at night, in the dark. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0304"></a> CHAPTER IV.</h3> + +<p> +A fine rain, like dust, obstinate and tedious, had been drizzling since +morning. Platonov was working in the port at the unloading of watermelons. At +the mill, where he had since the very summer proposed to establish himself, +luck had turned against him; after a week he had already quarreled, and almost +had a fight, with the foreman, who was extremely brutal with the workers. About +a month Sergei Ivanovich had struggled along somehow from hand to mouth, +somewheres in the back-yards of Temnikovskaya Street, dragging into the +editorial rooms of The Echoes, from time to time, notes of street accidents or +little humorous scenes from the court rooms of the justices of the peace. But +the hard newspaper game had long ago grown distasteful to him. He was always +drawn to adventures, to physical labour in the fresh air, to life completely +devoid of even the least hint at comfort; to care-free vagabondage, in which a +man, having cast from him all possible external conditions, does not know +himself what is going to be with him on the morrow. And for that reason, when +from the lower stretches of the Dnieper the first barges with watermelons +started coming in, he willingly entered a gang of labourers, in which he was +known even from last year, and loved for his merry nature, for his comradely +spirit, and for his masterly ability of keeping count. +</p> + +<p> +This labour was carried on with good team work and with skill. Four parties, +each of five men, worked on each barge. Number one would reach for a watermelon +and pass it on to the second, who was standing on the side of the barge. The +second cast it to the third, standing already on the wharf; the third threw it +over to the fourth; while the fourth handed it up to the fifth, who stood on a +horse cart and laid the watermelons away—now dark-green, now white, now +striped—into even glistening rows. This work is clean, lively, and progresses +rapidly. When a good party is gotten up, it is a pleasure to see how the +watermelons fly from hand to hand, are caught with a circus-like quickness and +success, and anew, and anew, without a break, fly, in order to fill up the +dray. It is only difficult for the novices, that have not as yet gained the +skill, have not caught on to that especial sense of the tempo. And it is not as +difficult to catch a watermelon as to be able to throw it. +</p> + +<p> +Platonov remembered well his first experiences of last year. What +swearing—virulent, mocking, coarse—poured down upon him when for the third or +fourth time he had been gaping and had slowed up the passing: two watermelons, +not thrown in time, had smashed against the pavement with a succulent crunch, +while the completely lost Platonov dropped the one which he was holding in his +hands as well. The first time they treated him gently; on the second day, +however, for every mistake they began to deduct from him five kopecks per +watermelon out of the common share. The following time when this happened, they +threatened to throw him out of the party at once, without any reckoning. +Platonov even now still remembered how a sudden fury seized him: “Ah, so? The +devil take you!” he had thought. “And yet you want me to be chary of your +watermelons? So then, here you are, here you are! ...” This flare-up helped him +as though instantaneously. He carelessly caught the watermelons, just as +carelessly threw them over, and to his amazement suddenly felt that precisely +just now he had gotten into the real swing of the work with all his muscles, +sight, and breathing; and understood, that the most important thing was not to +think at all of the watermelons representing some value, and that then +everything went well. When he, finally, had fully mastered this art, it served +him for a long time as a pleasant and entertaining athletic game of its own +kind. But that, too, passed away. He reached, in, the end, the stage where he +felt himself a will-less, mechanical wheel in a general machine consisting of +five men and an endless chain of flying watermelons. +</p> + +<p> +Now he was number two. Bending downward rhythmically, he, without looking, +received with both hands the cold, springy, heavy watermelon; swung it to the +right; and, also almost without looking, or looking only out of the corner of +his eye, tossed it downward, and immediately once again bent down for the next +watermelon. And his ear seized at this time how smack-smack +...smack-smack...the caught watermelons slapped in the hands; and immediately +bent downwards and again threw, letting the air out of himself +noisily—ghe...ghe... +</p> + +<p> +The present work was very profitable; their gang, consisting of forty men, had +taken on the work, thanks to the great rush, not by the day but by the amount +of work done, by the waggon load. Zavorotny, the head—an enormous, mighty +Poltavian—had succeeded with extreme deftness in getting around the owner; a +young man, and, to boot, in all probability not very experienced as yet. The +owner, it is true, came to his senses later and wanted to change the +stipulations; but experienced melon growers dissuaded him from it in time: +“Drop it. They’ll kill you,” they told him simply and firmly. And so, through +this very stroke of good luck every member of the gang was now earning up to +four roubles a day. They all worked with unusual ardour, even with some sort of +vehemence; and if it had been possible to measure with some apparatus the +labour of each one of them, then, in all probability, the number of units of +energy created would have equalled the work of a large Voronezhian train horse. +</p> + +<p> +However, Zavorotny was not satisfied even with this—he hurried and hurried his +lads on all the time. Professional ambition was speaking within him; he wanted +to bring the daily earnings of every member of the gang up to five roubles per +snout. And gaily, with unusual ease, twinkled from the harbour to the waggon, +twirling and flashing, the wet green and white watermelons; and their succulent +plashing resounded against accustomed palms. +</p> + +<p> +But now a long blast sounded on the dredging machine in the port. A second, a +third, responded to it on the river; a few more on shore; and for a long time +they roared together in a mighty chorus of different voices. +</p> + +<p> +“Ba-a-a-st-a-a!” hoarsely and thickly, exactly like a locomotive blast, +Zavorotny started roaring. +</p> + +<p> +And now the last smack-smack—and the work stopped instantaneously. +</p> + +<p> +Platonov with enjoyment straightened out his back and bent it backward, and +spread out his swollen arms. With pleasure he thought of having already gotten +over that first pain in all the muscles, which tells so during the first days, +when one is just getting back into the work after disuse. While up to this day, +awaking in the mornings in his lair on Temnikovskaya—also to the sound of a +factory blast agreed upon—he would during the first minutes experience such +fearful pains in his neck, back, in his arms and legs, that it seemed to him as +if only a miracle would be able to compel him to get up and make a few steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Go-o-o and e-at,” Zavorotny began to clamour again. +</p> + +<p> +The stevedores went down to the water; got down on their knees or laid down +flat on the gangplank or on the rafts; and, scooping up the water in handfuls, +washed their wet, heated faces and arms. Right here, too, on the shore, to one +side, where a little grass had been left yet, they disposed themselves for +dinner: placed in a circle ten of the most ripe watermelons, black bread, and +twenty dried porgies. Gavriushka the Bullet was already running with a +half-gallon bottle to the pot-house and was singing as he went the soldiers’ +signal for dinner: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“Drag spoon and mess-kit out,<br/> +If there’s no bread, eat without.” +</p> + +<p> +A bare-footed urchin, dirty and so ragged that there was more of his bare body +than clothes upon him, ran up to the gang. +</p> + +<p> +“Which one of you here is Platonov?” he asked, quickly running over them with +his thievish eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m Platonov, and by what name do they tease you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Around the corner here, behind the church, some sort of a young lady is +waiting for you...Here’s a note for you.” +</p> + +<p> +The whole gang neighed deeply. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you open up your mouths for, you pack of fools!” said Platonov calmly. +“Give me the note here.” +</p> + +<p> +This was a letter from Jennka, written in a round, naive, rolling, childish +handwriting, and not very well spelt. +</p> + +<p> +“Sergei Ivanich. Forgive me that I disturbe you. I must talk over a very, very +important matter with you. I would not be troubling you if it was Trifles. For +only 10 minutes in all. Jennka, whom you know, from Anna Markovna’s.” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov got up. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going away for a little while,” he said to Zavorotny. “When you begin, +I’ll be in my place.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now you’ve found somethin’ to do,” lazily and contemptuously said the head of +the gang. “There’s the night for that business...Go ahead, go ahead, who’s +holding you. But only if you won’t be here when we begin work, then this day +don’t count. I’ll take any tramp. And as many watermelons as he busts—that’s +out of your share, too...I didn’t think it of you, Platonov—that you’re such a +he-dog...” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka was waiting for him in the tiny little square, sheltered between a +church and the wharf, and consisting of ten sorry poplars. She had on a gray, +one-piece street dress; a simple, round, straw hat with a small black ribbon. +“And yet, even though she has dressed herself simply,” reflected Platonov, +looking at her from a distance with his habitually puckered eyes, “and yet, +every man will walk past, give a look, and inevitably look back three or four +times; he’ll feel the especial tone at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Howdy do, Jennka! Very glad to see you,” he said cordially, squeezing the +girl’s hand. “There, now, I didn’t expect it!” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka was reserved, sad, and apparently troubled over something. Platonov at +once understood and sensed this. +</p> + +<p> +“You excuse me, Jennechka, I must have dinner right away,” said he, “so, +perhaps, you’ll go together with me and tell me what’s the matter, while I’ll +manage to eat at the same time. There’s a modest little inn not far from here. +At this time there are no people there at all, and there’s even a tiny little +stall, a sort of a private room; that will be just the thing for you and me. +Let’s go! Perhaps you’ll also have a bite of something.” +</p> + +<p> +“No. I won’t eat,” answered Jennka hoarsely, “and I won’t detain you for +long...a few minutes. I have to talk things over, have some advice—but I +haven’t anybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well...Let’s go then! In whatever way I can, I’m always at your service, +in everything. I love you very much, Jennka!” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him sadly and gratefully. +</p> + +<p> +“I know this, Serge Ivanovich; that’s why I’ve come.” +</p> + +<p> +“You need money, perhaps? Just say so. I haven’t got much with me, myself; but +the gang will trust me with an advance.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thanks...it isn’t that at all. I’ll tell everything at once, there, where +we’re going now.” +</p> + +<p> +In the dim, low-ceiled little inn, the customary haunt of petty thieves, where +business was carried on only in the evening, until very far into the night, +Platonov took the little half-dark cubby hole. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me boiled meat, cucumbers, a large glass of vodka, and bread,” he ordered +the waiter. +</p> + +<p> +The waiter—a young fellow with a dirty face; pugnosed; as dirty and greasy in +all his person as though he had just been pulled out of a cesspool, wiped his +lips and asked hoarsely: +</p> + +<p> +“How many kopecks’ bread?” “As much as it comes to.” Then he started laughing: +</p> + +<p> +“Bring as much as possible—we’ll reckon it up later... and some bread cider!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Jennie, say what your trouble is...I can already see by your face that +there’s trouble, or something distasteful in general...Go ahead and tell it!” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka for a long time plucked her handkerchief and looked at the tips of her +slippers, as though, gathering her strength. Timorousness had taken possession +of her—the necessary and important words would not come into her mind, for +anything. Platonov came to her aid: “Don’t be embarrassed, my dear Jennie, tell +all there is! For you know that I’m like one of the family, and will never give +you away. And perhaps I may really give you some worth-while advice. Well, dive +off with a splash into the water—begin!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s just it, I don’t know how to begin,” said Jennka irresolutely. “Here’s +what, Sergei Ivanovich, I’m a sick woman...Understand?—sick in a bad way...With +the most nasty disease...Do you know which?” +</p> + +<p> +“Go on!” said Platonov, nodding his head. +</p> + +<p> +“And I’ve been that way for a long time...more than a month...a month and a +half, maybe...Yes, more than a month, because I found out about this on the +Trinity...” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov quickly rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Wait a while, I’ve +recalled it...This was that day I was there together with the students...isn’t +that so?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s right, Sergei Ivanovich, that’s so...” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Jennka,” said Platonov reproachfully and with regret. “For do you know, +that after this two of the students got sick...Wasn’t it from you?” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka wrathfully and disdainfully flashed her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps even from me...How should I know? There were a lot of them...I +remember there was this one, now, who was even trying to pick a fight with you +all the time ...A tall sort of fellow, fair-haired, in pince-nez...” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes...That’s Sobashnikov. They passed the news to me...That’s he...that +one was nothing—a little coxcomb! But then the other—him I’m sorry for. +Although I’ve known him long, somehow I never made the right inquiries about +his name...I only remember that he comes from some city or +other—Poliyansk...Zvenigorodsk... His comrades called him Ramses...When the +physicians—he turned to several physicians—when they told him irrevocably that +he had the lues, he went home and shot himself...And in the note that he wrote +there were amazing things, something like this: I supposed all the meaning of +life to be in the triumph of mind, beauty and good; with this disease I am not +a man, but junk, rottenness, carrion; a candidate for a progressive paralytic. +My human dignity cannot reconcile itself to this. But guilty in all that has +happened, and therefore in my death as well, am I alone; for that I, obeying a +momentary bestial inclination, took a woman without love, for money. For that +reason have I earned the punishment which I myself lay upon me...” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry for him...” added Platonov quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Jennka dilated her nostrils. +</p> + +<p> +“But I, now, not the very least bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s wrong...You go away now, young fellow. When I’ll need you I’ll call +out,” said Platonov to the serving-man “Absolutely wrong, Jennechka! This was +an unusually big and forceful man. Such come only one to the hundreds of +thousands. I don’t respect suicides. Most frequent of all, these are little +boys, who shoot and hang themselves over trifles, like a child that has not +been given a piece of candy, and hits itself against the wall to spite those +around it. But before his death I reverently and with sorrow bow my head. He +was a wise, generous, kindly man, attentive to all; and, as you see, too strict +to himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“But to me this is absolutely all one,” obstinately contradicted Jennka, “wise +or foolish, honest or dishonest, old or young—I have come to hate them all. +Because—look upon me—what am I? Some sort of universal spittoon, cesspool, +privy. Think of it, Platonov; why, thousands, thousands of people have taken +me, clutched me; grunted, snorted over me; and all those who were, and all +those who might yet have been on my bed—oh, how I hate them all! If I only +could, I would sentence them to torture by fire and iron! ... I would order...” +</p> + +<p> +“You are malicious and proud, Jennie,” said Platonov quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“I was neither malicious nor proud...It’s only now. I wasn’t ten yet when my +own mother sold me; and since that time I’ve been travelling from hand to +hand... If only some one had seen a human being in me! No! ... I am vermin, +refuse, worse than a beggar, worse than a thief, worse than a murderer! ... +Even a hangman...we have even such coming to the establishment—and even he +would have treated me loftily, with loathing: I am nothing; I am a public +wench! Do you understand, Sergei Ivanovich, what a horrible word this is? +Pub-lic! ... This means nobody’s: not papa’s, not mamma’s, not Russian, not +Riyazan, but simply—public! And not once did it enter anybody’s head to walk up +to me and think: why, now, this is a human being too; she has a heart and a +brain; she thinks of something, feels something; for she’s not made out of +wood, and isn’t stuffed with straw, small hay, or excelsior! And yet, only I +feel this. I, perhaps, am the only one out of all of them who feels the horror +of her position; this black, stinking, filthy pit. But then, all the girls with +whom I have met, and with whom I am living right now—understand, Platonov, +understand me!—why, they don’t realize anything... Talking, walking pieces of +meat! And this is even worse than my malice! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right!” said Platonov quietly. “And this is one of those questions +where you’ll always run up against a wall. No one will help you...” +</p> + +<p> +“No one, no one! ...” passionately exclaimed Jennka. “Do you remember—this was +while you were there: a student carried away our Liubka...” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, certainly, I remember well! ... Well, and what then?” +</p> + +<p> +“And this is what, that yesterday she came back tattered, wet...Crying...Left +her, the skunk! ... Played a while at kindliness, and then away with her! +‘You,’ he says, ‘are a sister.’ ‘I,’ he says, ‘will save you, make a human +being of you...’” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that possible?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so! ... One man I did see, kindly, indulgent, without the designs of a +he-dog—that’s you. But then, you’re altogether different. You’re somehow queer. +You’re always wandering somewhere, seeking something...You forgive me, Sergei +Ivanovich, you’re some sort of a little innocent! ... And that’s just why I’ve +come to you, to you alone! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Speak on, Jennechka...” +</p> + +<p> +“And so, when I found out that I was sick, I almost went out of my mind from +wrath; I choked from wrath ...I thought: and here’s the end; therefore, there’s +no more use in pitying, there’s nothing to grieve about, nothing to +expect...The lid! ... But for all that I have borne—can it be that there’s no +paying back for it? Can it be that there’s no justice in the world? Can it be +that I can’t even feast myself with revenge?—for that I have never known love; +that of family life I know only by hearsay; that, like a disgustin’, nasty +little dog, they call me near, pat me and then with a boot over the head—get +out!—that they made me over, from a human being, equal to all of them, no more +foolish than all those I’ve met; made me over into a floor mop, some sort of a +sewer pipe for their filthy pleasures? ...Ugh! ... Is it possible that for all +of this I must take even such a disease with gratitude as well? ... Or am I a +slave? ... A dumb object? ... A pack horse? ... And so, Platonov, it was just +then that I resolved to infect them all: young, old, poor, rich, handsome, +hideous—all, all, all! ...” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov, who had already long since put his plate away from him, was looking +at her with astonishment, and even more—almost with horror. He, who had seen in +life much of the painful, the filthy, at times even of the bloody—he grew +frightened with an animal fright before this intensity of enormous, unvented +hatred. Coming to himself, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“One great writer tells of such a case. The Prussians conquered the French and +lorded it over them in every possible way: shot the men, violated the women, +pillaged the houses, burned down the fields...And so one handsome woman—a +Frenchwoman, very handsome,—having become infected, began out of spite to +infect all the Germans who happened to fall into her embraces. She made ill +whole hundreds, perhaps even thousands...And when she was dying in a hospital, +she recalled this with joy and with pride...[25] But then, those were enemies, +trampling upon her fatherland and slaughtering her brothers...But you, you, +Jennechka! ...” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[25] This story is Lit. No. 29, by Guy de Maupassant.—Trans. +</p> + +<p> +“But I—all, just all! Tell me, Sergei Ivanovich, only tell me on your +conscience: if you were to find in the street a child, whom some one had +dishonoured, had abused...well, let’s say, had stuck its eyes out, cut its ears +off—and then you were to find out that this man is at this minute walking past +you, and that only God alone, if only He exists, is looking at you this minute +from heaven—what would you do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t know,” answered Platonov, dully and downcast; but he paled, and his +fingers underneath the table convulsively clenched into fists, “Perhaps I would +kill him...” +</p> + +<p> +“Not ‘perhaps,’ but certainly! I know you, I sense you. Well, and now think: +every one of us has been abused so, when we were children! ... Children! ...” +passionately moaned out Jennka and covered her eyes for a moment with her palm. +“Why, it comes to me, you also spoke of this at one time, in our place—wasn’t +it on that same evening before the Trinity? ... Yes, children—foolish, +trusting, blind, greedy, frivolous...And we cannot tear ourselves out of our +harness...where are we to go? what are we to do? ... And please, don’t you +think it, Sergei Ivanovich—that the spite within me is strong only against +those who wronged just me, me personally...No, against all our guests in +general; all these cavaliers, from little to big...Well, and so I have resolved +to avenge myself and my sisters. Is that good or no? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Jehnechka, really I don’t know...I can’t...I dare not say anything...I don’t +understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“But even that’s not the main thing...For the main thing is this: I infected +them, and did not feel anything—no pity, no remorse, no guilt before God or my +fatherland. Within me was only joy, as in a hungry wolf that has managed to get +at blood...But yesterday something happened which even I can’t understand. A +cadet came to me, altogether a little bit of a lad, silly, with yellow around +his mouth...He used to come to me from still last winter...And then suddenly I +had pity on him... Not because he was very handsome and very young; and not +because he had always been very polite—even tender, if you will...No, both the +one and the other had come to me, but I did not spare them: with enjoyment I +marked them off, just like cattle, with a red-hot brand ...But this one I +suddenly pitied...I myself don’t understand—why? I can’t make it out. It seemed +to me, that it would be all the same as stealing money from a little simpleton, +a little idiot; or hitting a blind man, or cutting a sleeper’s throat...if he +only were some dried-up marasmus or a nasty little brute, or a lecherous old +fellow, I would not have stopped. But he was healthy, robust, with chest and +arms like a statue’s...and I could not... I gave him his money back, showed him +my disease; in a word, I acted like a fool among fools. He went away from +me...burst into tears...And now since last evening I haven’t slept. I walk +around as in a fog...Therefore—I’m thinking right now—therefore, that which, I +meditated; my dream to infect them all; to infect their fathers, mothers, +sisters, brides—even all the world—therefore, all this was folly, an empty +fantasy, since I have stopped? ... Once again, I don’t understand anything +...Sergei Ivanovich, you are so wise, you have seen so much of life—help me, +then, to find myself now!...” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, Jennechka!” quietly pronounced Platonov. “Not that I fear +telling you, or advising you, but I know absolutely nothing. This is above my +reason... above conscience...” +</p> + +<p> +Jennie crossed her fingers and nervously cracked them. +</p> + +<p> +“And I, too, don’t know...Therefore, that which I thought—is not the truth. +Therefore, there is but one thing left me...This thought came into my head this +morning...” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t, don’t do it, Jennechka! ... Jennie! ...” Platonov quickly interrupted +her. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s one thing: to hang myself...” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Jennie, only not that! ... If there were other circumstances, +unsurmountable, I would, believe me, tell you boldly: well, it’s no use, +Jennie; it’s time to close up shop... But what you need isn’t that at all... If +you wish, I can suggest one way out to you, no less malicious and merciless; +but which, perhaps, will satiate your wrath a hundredfold...” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” asked Jennie, wearily, as though suddenly wilted after her +flare-up. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this is it ... You’re still young, and I’ll tell you the truth, you are +very handsome; that is, you can be, if you only want to, unusually stunning ... +That’s even more than beauty. But you’ve never yet known the bounds and the +power of your appearance; and, mainly, you don’t know to what a degree such +natures as yours are bewitching, and how mightily they enchain men to them, and +make out of them more than slaves and brutes ... You are proud, you are brave, +you are independent, you are a clever woman. I know—you have read a great deal, +let’s presuppose even trashy books, but still you have read, you have an +entirely different speech from the others. With a successful turn of life, you +can cure yourself, you can get out of these ‘Yamkas,’ these ‘Little Ditches,’ +into freedom. You have only to stir a finger, in order to see at your feet +hundreds of men; submissive, ready for your sake for vileness, for theft, for +embezzlement ... Lord it over them with tight reins, with a cruel whip in your +hands! ... Ruin them, make them go out of their minds, as long as your desire +and energy hold out! ... Look, my dear Jennie, who manages life now if not +women! Yesterday’s chambermaid, laundress, chorus girl goes through estates +worth millions, the way a country-woman of Tver cracks sunflower seeds. A woman +scarcely able to sign her name, at times affects the destiny of an entire +kingdom through a man. Hereditary princes marry the street-walkers, the kept +mistresses of yesterday... Jennechka, there is the scope for your unbridled +vengeance; while I will admire you from a distance... For you—you are made of +this stuff—you are a bird of prey, a spoliator... Perhaps not with such a broad +sweep—but you will cast them down under your feet.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” faintly smiled Jennka. “I thought of this before ... But something of the +utmost importance has burned out within me. There are no forces within me, +there is no will within me, no desires ... I am somehow all empty inside, +rotted ... Well, now, you know, there’s a mushroom like that—white, round,—you +squeeze it, and snuff pours out of it. And the same way with me. This life has +eaten out everything within me save malice. And I am flabby, and my malice is +flabby ... I’ll see some little boy again, will have pity on him, will be +punishing myself again ... No, it’s better ... better so! ...” +</p> + +<p> +She became silent. And Platonov did not know what to say. It became oppressive +and awkward for both. Finally, Jennka got up, and, without looking at Platonov, +extended her cold, feeble hand to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-bye, Sergei Ivanovich! Excuse me, that I took up your time ... Oh, well, +I can see myself that you’d help me, if you only could ... But, evidently, +there’s nothing to be done here ... Good-bye!” +</p> + +<p> +“Only don’t do anything foolish, Jennechka! I implore you! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s all right!” said she and made a tired gesture with her hand. +</p> + +<p> +Having come out of the square, they parted; but, having gone a few steps, +Jennka suddenly called after him: +</p> + +<p> +“Sergei Ivanovich, oh Sergei Ivanovich! ...” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, turned around, walked back to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Roly-Poly croaked last evening in our drawing room. He jumped and he jumped, +and then suddenly plumped down ... Oh, well, it’s an easy death at least! And +also I forgot to ask you, Sergei Ivanovich ... This is the last, now ... Is +there a God or no?” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov knit his eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +“What answer can I make? I don’t know. I think that there is, but not such as +we imagine Him. He is more wise, more just...” +</p> + +<p> +“And future life? There, after death? Is there, now, as they tell us, a +paradise or hell? Is that the truth? Or is there just nothing at all? A barren +void? A sleep without a dream? A dark basement?” +</p> + +<p> +Platonov kept silent, trying not to look at Jennka. He felt oppressed and +frightened. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said he, finally, with an effort. “I don’t want to lie to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka sighed, and smiled with a pitiful, twisted smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, thanks, my dear. And thanks for even that much ... I wish you happiness. +With all my soul. Well, good-bye...” +</p> + +<p> +She turned away from him and began slowly, with a wavering walk, to climb up +the hill. +</p> + +<p> +Platonov returned to work just in the nick of time. The gathering of tramps, +scratching, yawning, working out their accustomed dislocations, were getting +into their places. Zavorotny, at a distance, with his keen eyes caught sight of +Platonov and began to yell over the whole port: +</p> + +<p> +“You did manage to get here in time, you round-shouldered devil ... But I was +already wanting to take you by the tail and chase you out of the gang ... Well, +get in your place! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but I did get a he-dog in you, Serejka! ...” he added, in a kindly +manner. “If only it was night; but no,—look you, he starts in playing +ring-around-a-rosie in broad daylight...” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0305"></a> CHAPTER V.</h3> + +<p> +Saturday was the customary day of the doctor’s inspection, for which they +prepared very carefully and with quaking in all the houses; as, however, even +society ladies prepare themselves, when getting ready for a visit to a +physician-specialist; they diligently made their intimate toilet and inevitably +put on clean underthings, even as dressy as possible. The windows toward the +street were closed with shutters, while at one of those windows, which gave out +upon the yard, was put a table with a hard bolster to put under the back. +</p> + +<p> +All the girls were agitated ... “And what if there’s a disease, which I haven’t +noticed myself? ... And then the despatch to a hospital; disgrace; the tedium +of hospital life; bad food; the hard course of treatment...” +</p> + +<p> +Only Big Manka—or otherwise Manka the Crocodile—Zoe, and Henrietta—all thirty +years old, and, therefore, in the reckoning of Yama, already old prostitutes, +who had seen everything, had grown inured to everything, grown indifferent to +their trade, like white, fat circus horses—remained imperturbably calm. Manka +the Crocodile even often said of herself: +</p> + +<p> +“I have gone through fire and water and pipes of brass ... Nothing will stick +to me any more.” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka, since morning, was meek and pensive. She presented to Little White +Manka a golden bracelet; a medallion upon a thin little chain with her +photograph; and a silver neck crucifix. Tamara she moved through entreaty into +taking two rings for remembrance: one of silver, in three hoops, that could be +moved apart, with a heart in the middle, and under it two hands that clasped +one another when all the three parts of the ring were joined; while the other +was of thin gold wire with an almandine. +</p> + +<p> +“As for my underwear, Tamarochka—you give it to Annushka, the chambermaid. Let +her wash it out well and wear it in good health, in memory of me.” +</p> + +<p> +The two of them were sitting in Tamara’s room. Jennka had in the very morning +sent after cognac; and now slowly, as though lazily, was imbibing wine-glass +after wine-glass, eating lemon and a piece of sugar after drinking. Tamara was +observing this for the first time and wondered, because Jennka had always +disliked wine, and drank very rarely; and then only at the constraint of +guests. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you giving stuff away so to-day?” asked Tamara. “Just as though you’d +gotten ready to die, or to go into a convent?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and I will go away,” answered Jennka listlessly. “I am weary, Tamarochka! +...” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, which one of us has a good time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, no! ... It isn’t so much that I’m weary; but somehow +everything—everything is all the same ... I look at you, at the table, at the +bottle; at my hands and feet; and I’m thinking, that all this is alike and +everything is to no purpose ... There’s no sense in anything ... Just like on +some old, old picture. Look there—there’s a soldier walking on the street, but +it’s all one to me, as though they had wound up a doll, and it’s moving ... And +that he’s wet under the ram, is also all one to me ... And that he’ll die, and +I’ll die, and you, Tamara, will die—in this also I see nothing frightful, +nothing amazing... So simple and wearisome is everything to me...” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka was silent for a while; drank one more wine-glass; sucked the sugar, +and, still looking out at the street, suddenly asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, please, Tamara, I’ve never asked you about it—from where did you get +in here, into the house? You don’t at all resemble all of us; you know +everything; for everything that turns up you have a good, clever remark ... +Even French, now—how well you spoke it that time! But none of us knows anything +at all about you ... Who are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Darling Jennechka, really, it’s not worth while ... A life like any life ... I +went to boarding school; was a governess; sang in a choir; then kept a shooting +gallery in a summer garden; and then got mixed up with a certain charlatan and +taught myself to shoot with a Winchester ... I traveled with circuses—I +represented an American Amazon. I used to shoot splendidly ... Then I found +myself in a monastery. There I passed two years ... I’ve been through a lot ... +Can’t recall everything ... I used to steal...” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve lived through a great deal ... Checkered-like.” +</p> + +<p> +“But then, my years are not a few. Well, what do you think—how many?” +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-two, twenty-four? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my angel! It just struck thirty-two a week ago. I, if you like, am older +than all of you here in Anna Markovna’s. Only I didn’t wonder at anything, +didn’t take anything near to heart. As you see, I never drink ... I occupy +myself very carefully with the care of my body; and the main thing, the very +main thing—I don’t allow myself ever to be carried away with men...” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, but what about your Senka? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Senka—that’s a horse of another colour; the heart of woman is foolish, +inconsistent ... Can it possibly live without love? And even so, I don’t love +him, but just so ... a self-deception ... But, however, I shall be in very +great need of Senka soon.” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka suddenly grew animated and looked at her friend with curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“But how did you come to get stuck right here, in this hole? So clever, +handsome, sociable...” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d have to take a long time in telling it ... And then I’m too lazy ... I got +in here out of love; I got mixed up with a certain young man and went into a +revolution with him. For we always act so, we women: where the dearie is +looking, there we also look; what the dearie sees, that we also see ... I +didn’t believe at soul in his work, but I went. A flattering man he was; smart, +a good talker, a good looker ... Only he proved to be a skunk and a traitor +afterwards. He played at revolution; while he himself gave his comrades away to +the gendarmes. A stool-pigeon, he was. When they had killed and shown him up, +then all the foolishness left me. However, it was necessary to conceal myself +... I changed my passport. Then they advised me, that the easiest thing of all +was to screen myself with a yellow ticket ... And then the fun began! ... And +even here I’m on a sort of pasture ground; when the time comes, the successful +moment arrives—I’ll go away!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” asked Jennie with impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“The world is large ... And I love life! ... There, now, I was the same way in +the convent: I lived on and I lived on; sang antiphonies and dulias, until I +had rested up, and had finally grown weary of it; and then all at once—hop! and +into a cabaret ... Wasn’t that some jump? The same way out of here ... I’ll get +into a theatre, into a circus, into a corps de ballet ... but do you know, +Jennechka, I’m drawn to the thieving trade the most, after all ... Daring, +dangerous, hard, and somehow intoxicating ... It’s drawing me! ... Don’t you +mind that I’m so respectable and modest, and can appear an educated young lady. +I’m entirely, entirely different.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes suddenly blazed up, vividly and gaily. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a devil dwells in me!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all very well for you,” pensively and with weariness pronounced Jennie. +“You at least desire something, but my soul is some sort of carrion ... I’m +twenty-five years old, now; but my soul is like that of an old woman, +shrivelled up, smelling of the earth ... And if I had only lived sensibly! ... +Ugh! ... There was only some sort of slush.” +</p> + +<p> +“Drop it, Jennka; you’re talking foolishly. You’re smart, you’re original; you +have that special power before which men crawl and creep so willingly. You go +away from here, too. Not with me, of course—I’m always single—but go away all +by your own self.” +</p> + +<p> +Jennka shook her head and quietly, without tears, hid her face in her palms. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she responded dully, after a long silence, “no, this won’t work out with +me: fate has chewed me all up! ... I’m not a human being any more, but some +sort of dirty cud ... Eh!” she suddenly made a gesture of despair. ‘Let’s +better drink some cognac, Jennechka,’” she addressed herself, “‘and let’s suck +the lemon a little! ...’ Brr ... what nasty stuff! ... And where does Annushka +always get such abominable stuff? If you smear a dog’s wool with it, it will +fall off ... And always, the low-down thing, she’ll take an extra half. Once I +somehow ask her—‘What are you hoarding money for?’ ‘Well, I,’ she says, ‘am +saving it up for a wedding. What sort,’ she says, ‘of joy will it be for my +husband, that I’ll offer him up my innocence alone! I must earn a few hundreds +in addition.’ She’s happy! ... I have here, Tamara, a little money in the +little box under the mirror; you pass it on to her, please...” +</p> + +<p> +“And what are you about, you fool; do you want to die, or what?” sharply, with +reproach, said Tamara. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m saying it just so, if anything happens ... Take it, now, take the +money! Maybe they’ll take me off to the hospital ... And how do you know what’s +going to take place there? I left myself some small change, if anything happens +... And supposing that I wanted to do something to myself in downright earnest, +Tamarochka—is it possible that you’d interfere with me?” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara looked at her fixedly, deeply, and calmly. Jennie’s eyes were sad, and +as though vacant. The living fire had become extinguished in them, and they +seemed turbid, just as though faded, with whites like moonstone. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” Tamara said at last, quietly but firmly. “If it was on account of love, +I’d interfere; if it was on account of money, I’d talk you out of it: but there +are cases where one must not interfere. I wouldn’t help, of course; but I also +wouldn’t seize you and interfere with you.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment the quick-limbed housekeeper Zociya whirled through the corridor +with an outcry: +</p> + +<p> +“Ladies, get dressed! The doctor has arrived ... Ladies, get dressed! ... +Lively, ladies! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, go on, Tamara, go on,” said Jennka tenderly, getting up. “I’ll run into +my room for just a minute—I haven’t changed my dress yet, although, to tell the +truth, this also is all one. When they’ll be calling out for me, and I don’t +come in time, call out, run in after me.” +</p> + +<p> +And, going out of Tamara’s room, she embraced her by the shoulder, as though by +chance, and stroked it tenderly. +</p> + +<p> +Doctor Klimenko—the official city doctor—was preparing in the parlor everything +indispensable for an inspection—vaseline, a solution of sublimate, and other +things—and was placing them on a separate little table. Here also were arranged +for him the white blanks of the girls, replacing their passports, as well as a +general alphabetical list. The girls, dressed only in their chemises, +stockings, and slippers, were standing and sitting at a distance. Nearer the +table was standing the proprietress herself—Anna Markovna—while a little behind +her were Emma Edwardovna and Zociya. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor—aged, disheartened, slovenly; a man indifferent to everything—put +the pince-nez crookedly upon his nose, looked at the list, and called out: +</p> + +<p> +“Alexandra Budzinskaya! ...” +</p> + +<p> +The frowning, little, pug-nosed Nina stepped out. Preserving on her face an +angry expression, and breathing heavily from shame, from the consciousness of +her own awkwardness, and from the exertions, she clumsily climbed up on the +table. The doctor, squinting through his pince-nez and dropping it every +minute, carried out the inspection. +</p> + +<p> +“Go ahead! ... You’re sound.” +</p> + +<p> +And on the reverse side of the blank he marked off: “Twenty-eighth of August. +Sound” and put down a curly-cue. And when he had not even finished writing +called out: +</p> + +<p> +“Voshchenkova, Irene! ...” +</p> + +<p> +Now it was the turn of Liubka. She, during the past month and a half of +comparative freedom, had had time to grow unaccustomed to the inspections of +every week; and when the doctor turned up the chemise over her breast, she +suddenly turned as red as only very bashful women can—even with her back and +breast. +</p> + +<p> +After her was the turn of Zoe; then of Little White Manka; after that of Tamara +and Niurka—the last, the doctor found, had gonorrhoea, and ordered her to be +sent off to a hospital. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor carried out the inspection with amazing rapidity. It was now nearly +twenty years that every week, on Saturdays, he had to inspect in such a manner +several hundred girls; and he had worked out that habitual technical dexterity +and rapidity, a calm carelessness of movements, which is; frequently to be +found in circus artists, in card sharpers, in furniture movers and packers, and +in other professionals. And he carried out his manipulations with the same +calmness with which a drover or a veterinary inspects several hundred head of +cattle in a day. +</p> + +<p> +Did he ever think that before him were living people; or that he appeared as +the last and most important link of that fearful chain which is called +legalized prostitution? +</p> + +<p> +No! And even if he did experience this, then it must have been in the very +beginning of his career. Now before him were only naked abdomens, naked backs, +and opened mouths. Not one exemplar of all this faceless herd of every Saturday +would he have recognized subsequently on the street. The main thing was the +necessity of finishing as soon as possible the inspection in one establishment, +in order to pass on to another, to a third, a ninth, a twentieth... +</p> + +<p> +“Susannah Raitzina!” the doctor finally called out. +</p> + +<p> +No one walked up to the table. +</p> + +<p> +All the inmates of the house began to exchange glances and to whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“Jennka ... Where’s Jennka? ...” +</p> + +<p> +But she was not among the girls. +</p> + +<p> +Then Tamara, just released by the doctor, moved a little forward and said: +</p> + +<p> +“She isn’t here. She hasn’t had a chance to get herself ready yet. Excuse me, +Mr. Doctor, I’ll go right away and call her.” +</p> + +<p> +She ran into the corridor and did not return for a long time. After her went, +at first Emma Edwardovna, then Zociya, several girls, and even Anna Markovna +herself. +</p> + +<p> +“PFUI! What indecency is this! ...” the majestic Emma Edwardovna was saying in +the corridor, making an indignant face. “And eternally this Jennka! ... Always +this Jennka! ... It seems my patience has already burst ...” +</p> + +<p> +But Jennka was nowhere—neither in her room, nor in Tamara’s. They looked into +other chambers, in all the out-of-the-way corners ... But she did not prove to +be even there. +</p> + +<p> +“We must look in the water-closet ... Perhaps she’s there?” surmised Zoe. +</p> + +<p> +But this institution was locked from the inside with a bolt. Emma Edwardovna +knocked on the door with her fist. +</p> + +<p> +“Jennie, do come out at last! What foolishness is this?” +</p> + +<p> +And, raising her voice, she cried out impatiently and threateningly: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you hear, you swine? ... Come out this minute—the doctor’s waiting!” +</p> + +<p> +But there was no answer of any sort. +</p> + +<p> +All exchanged glances with fear in their eyes, with one and the same thought in +mind. +</p> + +<p> +Emma Edwardovna shook the door by the brass knob, but the door did not yield. +</p> + +<p> +“Go after Simeon!” Anna Markovna directed. +</p> + +<p> +Simeon was called ... He came, sleepy and morose, as was his wont. By the +distracted faces of the girls and the housekeepers, he already saw that some +misunderstanding or other had occurred, in which his professional cruelty and +strength were required. When they explained to him what the matter was, he +silently took the door-knob with both hands, braced himself against the wall, +and gave a yank. +</p> + +<p> +The knob remained in his hands; and he himself, staggering backward, almost +fell to the floor on his back. +</p> + +<p> +“A-a, hell!” he began to growl in a stifled voice. “Give me a table knife.” +</p> + +<p> +Through the crack of the door he felt the inner bolt with the table knife; +whittled away with the blade the edges of the crack, and widened it so that he +could at last push the end of the knife through it, and began gradually to +scrape back the bolt. Only the grating of metal against metal could be heard. +</p> + +<p> +Finally Simeon threw the door wide open. +</p> + +<p> +Jennka was hanging in the middle of the water-closet on a tape from her corset, +fastened to the lamphook. Her body, already motionless after an unprolonged +agony, was slowly swinging in the air, and describing scarcely perceptible +turns to the right and left around its vertical axis. Her face was +bluishly-purple, and the tip of the tongue was thrust out between clenched and +bared teeth. The lamp which had been taken off was also here, sprawling on the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +Some one began to squeal hysterically, and all the girls, like a stampeded +herd, crowding and jostling each other in the narrow corridor, vociferating and +choking with hysterical sobbings, started in to run. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor came upon hearing the outcries... Came, precisely, and not ran. +Seeing what the matter was, he did not become amazed or excited; during his +practice as an official city doctor, he had had his fill of seeing such things, +so that he had already grown benumbed and hardened to human sufferings, wounds +and death. He ordered Simeon to lift the corpse of Jennka a bit upward, and +himself getting up on the seat, cut through the tape. Proforma, he ordered +Jennka’s body to be borne away into the room that had been hers, and tried with +the help of the same Simeon to produce artificial respiration; but after five +minutes gave it up as a bad job, fixed the pince-nez, which had become crooked, +on his nose, and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Call the police in to make a protocol.” +</p> + +<p> +Again Kerbesh came, again whispered for a long time with the proprietress in +her little bit of a cabinet, and again crunched in his pocket a new +hundred-rouble bill. +</p> + +<p> +The protocol was made in five minutes; and Jennka, just as half-naked as she +had hung herself, was carted away in a hired wagon into an anatomical theatre, +wrapped up in and covered with two straw mats. +</p> + +<p> +Emma Edwardovna was the first to find the note that Jennka had left on her +night table. On a sheet, torn out of the income-expense book, compulsory for +every prostitute, in pencil, in a naive, rounded, childish handwriting—by +which, however, it could be judged that the hands of the suicide had not +trembled during the last minutes—was written: +</p> + +<p> +“I beg that no one be blamed for my death. I am dying because I have become +infected, and also because all people are scoundrels and it is very disgusting +to live. How to divide my things—Tamara knows about that. I told her in +detail.” +</p> + +<p> +Emma Edwardovna turned around upon Tamara, who was right on the spot among a +number of other girls, and with eyes filled with a cold, green hatred, hissed +out: +</p> + +<p> +“Then you knew, you low-down thing, what she was preparing to do? ... You knew, +you vermin? ... You knew and didn’t tell? ...” +</p> + +<p> +She already had swung back, in order, as was her wont, to hit Tamara cruelly +and calculatingly; but suddenly stopped just as she was, with gaping mouth and +with eyes wide open. It was just as though she was seeing, for the first time, +Tamara, who was looking at her with a firm, wrathful, unbearable gaze, and +slowly, slowly was raising from below, and at last brought up to the level of +the housekeeper’s face, a small object, glistening with white metal. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0306"></a> CHAPTER VI.</h3> + +<p> +That very same day, at evening, a very important event took place in the house +of Anna Markovna: the whole institution—with land and house, with live and +inanimate stock—passed into the hands of Emma Edwardovna. +</p> + +<p> +They had been speaking of this, on and off, for a long time in the +establishment; but when the rumours so unexpectedly, immediately right after +the death of Jennka, turned into realities, the misses could not for a long +time come to themselves for amazement and fear. They knew well, having +experienced the sway of the German upon themselves, her cruel, implacable +pedantism; her greed, arrogance, and, finally, her perverted, exacting, +repulsive love, now for one, now for another favorite. Besides that, it was no +mystery to any one, that out of the fifteen thousand which Emma Edwardovna had +to pay the former proprietress for the firm and for the property, one third +belonged to Kerbesh, who had, for a long time already, been carrying on +half-friendly, half-business relations with the fat housekeeper. From the union +of two such people, shameless, pitiless, and covetous, the girls could expect +all sorts of disasters for themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Anna Markovna had to let the house go so cheaply not simply because Kerbesh, +even if he had not known about certain shady little transactions to her credit, +could still at any time he liked trip her up and eat her up without leaving +anything. Of pretexts and cavils for this even a hundred could be found every +day; and certain ones of them not merely threatened the shutting down of the +house alone, but, if you like, even with the court. +</p> + +<p> +But, dissembling, oh-ing and sighing, bewailing her poverty, her maladies and +orphanhood, Anna Markovna at soul was glad of even such a settlement. And then +it must be said: she was already for a long time feeling the approach of senile +infirmity, together with all sorts of ailments and the thirst for complete, +benevolent rest, undisturbed by anything. All, of which she had not even dared +dream in her early youth, when she herself had yet been a prostitute of the +rank and file—all had now come to her of itself, one in addition to the other: +peaceful old age, a house—a brimming cup on one of the quiet, cozy streets, +almost in the centre of the city,—the adored daughter Birdie, who—if not to-day +then tomorrow—must marry a respected man, an engineer, a house-owner, and +member of the city-council; provided for as she was with a respectable dowry +and magnificent valuables ... Now it was possible peacefully, without hurrying, +with gusto, to dine and sup on sweet things, for which Anna Markovna had always +nourished a great weakness; to drink after dinner good, home-made, strong +cherry-brandy; and of evenings to play a bit at “preference,” for kopeck +stakes, with esteemed elderly ladies of her acquaintance, who, even although +they never as much as let it appear that they knew the real trade of the little +old woman, did in reality know it very well; and not only did not condemn her +business but even bore themselves with respect toward those enormous +percentages which she earned upon her capital. And these charming friends, the +joy and consolation of an untroubled old age, were: one—the keeper of a loan +office; another—the proprietress of a lively hotel near the railroad; the +third—the owner of a jewelry shop, not large, but all the go and well known +among the big thieves, &c. And about them, in her turn, Anna Markovna knew +and could tell several shady and not especially flattering anecdotes; but in +their society it was not customary to talk of the sources of the family +well-being—only cleverness, daring, success, and decent manners were esteemed. +</p> + +<p> +But, even besides that, Anna Markovna, sufficiently limited in mind and not +especially developed, had some sort of an amazing inner intuition, which during +all her life permitted her instinctively but irreproachably to avoid +unpleasantnesses, and to find prudent paths in time. And so now, after the +sudden death of Roly-Poly, and the suicide of Jennka which followed the next +day, she, with her unconsciously—penetrating soul foreguessed that fate—which +had been favouring her house of ill-fame, sending her good fortunes, turning +away all under-water shoals—was now getting ready to turn its back upon her. +And she was the first to retreat. +</p> + +<p> +They say, that not long before a fire in a house, or before the wreck of a +ship, the wise, nervous rats in droves make their way into another place. And +Anna Markovna was directed by the same rat-like, animal, prophetic intuition. +And she was right: immediately right after the death of Jennka some fearful +curse seemed to hang over the house, formerly Anna Markovna Shaibes’, but now +Emma Edwardovna Titzner’s: deaths, misfortunes, scandals just simply descended +upon it ceaselessly, becoming constantly more frequent, on the manner of bloody +events in Shakespeare’s tragedies; as, however, was the case at all the +remaining houses of the Yamas as well. +</p> + +<p> +And one of the first to die, a week after the liquidation of the business, was +Anna Markovna herself. However, this frequently happens with people put out of +their accustomed rut of thirty years: so die war heroes, who have gone into +retirement—people of insuperable health and iron will; so quickly go off the +stage former stock brokers, who have happily gone away to rest, but have been +deprived of the burning allurement of risk and hazard; so, too, age rapidly, +droop, and grow decrepit, the great artists who leave the stage ... Her death +was the death of the just. Once at a game of cards she felt herself unwell; +begged them to wait a while for her; said that she would lie down for just a +minute; lay down in the bedroom on a bed; sighed deeply, and passed on into +another world—with a calm face, with a peaceful, senile smile upon her lips. +Isaiah Savvich—her faithful comrade on the path of life, a trifle downtrodden, +who had always played a secondary, subordinate role—survived her only a month. +</p> + +<p> +Birdie was left sole heiress. She very successfully turned the cozy house into +money, as well as the land somewheres at the edge of the town; married, as it +had been presupposed, very happily; and up to this time is convinced that her +father carried on a great commercial business in the export of wheat through +Odessa and Novorossiysk into Asia Minor. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of the day when Jennie’s corpse had been carried away to an +anatomical theatre; at an hour when not even a chance guest appears on Yamskaya +Street, all the girls, at the insistence of Emma Edwardovna, assembled in the +drawing room. Not one of them dared murmur against the fact that on this +distressing day, when they had not yet recovered from the impression of +Jennka’s horrible death, they would be compelled to dress up, as usual, in +wildly festive finery, and to go into the brightly illuminated drawing room, in +order to dance, sing, and to entice lecherous men with their denuded bodies. +</p> + +<p> +And at last into the drawing room walked Emma Edwardovna herself. She was more +majestic than she had ever been—clad in a black silk gown, from which, just +like battlements, her enormous breasts jutted out, upon which descended two fat +chins; in black silk mittens; with an enormous gold chain wound thrice around +her neck, and terminating in a ponderous medallion hanging upon the very +abdomen. +</p> + +<p> +“Ladies! ...” she began impressively, “I must ... Stand up!” she suddenly +called out commandingly. “When I speak, you must hear me out standing.” +</p> + +<p> +They all exchanged glances with perplexity: such an order was a novelty in the +establishment. However, the girls got up one after another, irresolutely, with +eyes and mouths gasping. +</p> + +<p> +“Sie sollen ... you must from this day show me that respect which you are bound +to show to your mistress,” importantly and weightily began Emma Edwardovna. +“Beginning from to-day, the establishment in a legal manner has passed from our +good and respected Anna Markovna to me, Emma Edwardovna Titzner. I hope that we +will not quarrel, and that you will behave yourselves like sensible, obedient, +and well-brought-up girls. I will be to you like in place of your own mother, +but only remember, that I will not stand for laziness, or drunkenness, or +notions of any sort; or any kind of disorder. The kind Madam Shaibes, it must +be said, held you in too loose reins. O—o, I will be far more strict. +Discipline uber alles ... before everything. It’s a great pity, that the +Russian people are lazy, dirty and stoopid, do not understand this rule; but +don’t you trouble yourself, I will teach you this for your own good. I say ‘for +your own good,’ because my main thought is to kill the competition of Treppel. +I want that my client should be a man of substance, and not some charlatan and +ragamuffin, some kind of student, now, or ham actor. I want that my ladies +should be the most beautiful, best brought-up, the healthiest and gayest in the +whole city. I won’t spare any money in order to set up swell furnishings; and +you will have rooms with silk furniture and with genuine, beautiful rugs. Your +guests will no longer be demanding beer, but only genteel Bordeaux and Burgundy +wines and champagne. Remember, that a rich, substantial, elderly man never +likes your common, ordinary, coarse love. He requires Cayenne pepper; he +requires not a trade, but an art, and you will soon acquire this. At Treppel’s +they take three roubles for a visit and ten roubles for a night ... I will +establish it so, that you will receive five roubles for a visit and twenty-five +for a night. They will present you with gold and diamonds. I will contrive it +so, that you won’t have to pass on into establishments of a lower sort, und so +weiter ... right down to the soldiers’ filthy den. No! Deposits will be put +away and saved with me for each one of you every month; and will be put away in +your name in a banker’s office, where there will increase interest upon them, +and interest upon interest. And then, if a girl feels herself tired, or wants +to marry a respectable man, there will always be at her disposal not a large, +but a sure capital. So is it done in the best establishments in Riga, and +everywhere abroad. Let no one say about me, that Emma Edwardovna is a spider, a +vixen, a cupping glass. But for disobedience, for laziness, for notions, for +lovers on the side, I will punish cruelly and, like nasty weeds, will throw +out—on the street, or still worse. Now I have said all that I had to. Nina, +come near me. And all the rest of you come up in turn.” +</p> + +<p> +Ninka irresolutely walked right up to Emma Edwardovna—and even staggered back +in amazement: Emma Edwardovna was extending her right hand to her, with the +fingers lowered downward, and slowly nearing it to Ninka’s lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Kiss it! ...” impressively and firmly pronounced Emma Edwardovna, narrowing +her eyes and with head thrown back, in the magnificent pose of a princess +ascending her throne. +</p> + +<p> +Ninka was so bewildered that her right arm gave a jerk in order to make the +sign of the cross; but she corrected herself, loudly smacked the extended hand, +and stepped aside. Following her Zoe, Henrietta, Vanda and others stepped up +also. Tamara alone continued to stand near the wall with her back to the +mirror; that mirror into which Jennka so loved to gaze, in gone-by times, +admiring herself as she walked back and forth through the drawing room. +</p> + +<p> +Emma Edwardovna let the imperious, obstinate gaze of a boa-constrictor rest +upon her; but the hypnosis did not work. Tamara bore this gaze without turning +away, without flinching; but without any expression on her face. Then the new +proprietress put down her hand, produced on her face something resembling a +smile, and said hoarsely: +</p> + +<p> +“And with you, Tamara, I must have a little talk separately, eye to eye. Let’s +go!” +</p> + +<p> +“I hear you, Emma Edwardovna!” calmly answered Tamara. +</p> + +<p> +Emma Edwardovna came to the little bit of a cabinet, where formerly Anna +Markovna loved to drink coffee with clotted cream; sat down on the divan and +pointed out a place opposite her to Tamara. For some time the women kept +silent; searchingly, mistrustfully eyeing each other. +</p> + +<p> +“You acted rightly, Tamara,” said Emma Edwardovna finally. “You did wisely in +not stepping up, on the manner of those sheep, to kiss my hand. But just the +same, I would not have let you come to that. I wanted right there, in the +presence of all, when you walked up to me, to press your hand and to offer you +the place of first housekeeper—you understand?—my chief assistant—and on terms +very advantageous to you...” +</p> + +<p> +“I thank you ...” +</p> + +<p> +“No, wait a while, don’t interrupt me. I will have my say to the end, and then +you will express your pros and cons. But will you explain to me, please, when +yesterday you were aiming at me out of a revolver, what did you want? Can it +possibly be, to kill me?” +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, Emma Edwardovna,” retorted Tamara respectfully, “on the +contrary; it seemed to me that you wanted to strike me.” +</p> + +<p> +“PJUI! What do you mean, Tamarochka! ... Have you paid no attention to the fact +that during all the time of our acquaintance I never permitted myself, not only +to hit you, but even to address you with a rude word? ... What do you mean, +what do you mean? ... I don’t confuse you with this poor Russian trash ... +Glory be to God, I am an experienced person and one who knows people well. I +can very well see that you are a genuinely cultured young lady; far more +educated, for example, than I myself. You are refined, elegant, smart. I am +convinced of the fact that you even know music not at all badly. Finally, if I +were to confess, I was a little ... how shall I put it to you? ... I always was +a little in love with you. And now you wanted to shoot me! Me, a person who +could be a very good friend to you! Well, what will you say to that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well ... nothing at all, Emma Edwardovna,” retorted Tamara in the meekest and +most plausible tone. “Everything was very simple. Even before that I found the +revolver under Jennka’s pillow and brought it, in order to give it over to you. +I did not want to interfere, when you were reading the letter; but then you +turned around to me—I stretched the revolver out to you and wanted to say: +‘See, Emma Edwardovna, what I found’—for, don’t you see, it surprised me +awfully how the late Jennie, having a revolver at her disposal, preferred such +a horrible death as hanging? And that’s all.” +</p> + +<p> +The bushy, frightful eyebrows of Emma Edwardovna rose upward; the eyes widened +joyously; and a real, uncounterfeited smile spread over her cheeks of a +behemoth. She quickly extended both hands to Tamara. +</p> + +<p> +“And is this all? O, MEIN KIND? And I thought ... God knows what I imagined! +Give me your hands, Tamara, your little charming white hands, and allow me to +press them auf mein Herz, upon my heart, and to kiss you.” +</p> + +<p> +The kiss was so long, that Tamara with great difficulty and with aversion +barely freed herself from the embraces of Emma Edwardovna. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and now to business. And so, here are my terms: you will be housekeeper, +I give you fifteen percent, out of the clear gain. Mind you, Tamara, fifteen +percent. And, besides that, a small salary—thirty, forty, well, if you like, +fifty roubles a month. Splendid terms—isn’t that the truth? I am deeply +convinced, that none other than just you will help me to raise the house to a +real height, and make it the swellest not only in our city, but in all the +south of Russia as well. You have taste, and an understanding of things! ... +Besides that, you will always be able to entertain, and to stir up the most +exacting, the most unyielding guests. In rare instances, when a very rich and +distinguished gentleman—in Russian they call it one “sun-fish,” while with us, +ein Freier,[26]—when he becomes infatuated with you—for you are so handsome, +Tamarochka,” (the proprietress looked at her with misty, humid eyes), “then I +do not at all forbid you to pass the time with him gaily; only to bear down +always upon the fact that you have no right, owing to your duty, your position, +Und so weiter, und so weiter ... aber sagen sie bitte, do you easily make +yourself understood in German?” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[26] In English, a “toff”; in American, a “swell.”—trans. +</p> + +<p> +“Die Deutsche Sprache beherrsche ich in geringerem Grade als die franzosische; +indes kann ich stets in einer Salon-Plauderei mitmachen.”[27] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[27] “My mastery of the German language is a trifle worse than that of the +French, but I can always keep up my end in parlor small talk.” +</p> + +<p> +“O, wunderbar! sie haben eine entzuckende Rigaer Aussprache, die beste alter +deutschen Aussprachen. Und also—fahren wir in unserer Sprache fort. Sie klingt +viel susser meinem Ohr, die Muttersprache. Schon?”[28] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[28] O, splendid! ... You have a bewitching Riga enunciation, the most correct +of all the German ones. And so, let us continue in my tongue. That is far +sweeter to my ear—my mother tongue. All right?” +</p> + +<p> +“SCHON.”[29] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[29] “All right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Zuletzt werden Sie nachgeben, dem Anschein nach ungern, unwillkurlich, van der +Laune des Augenblicks hingerissen—und, was die Hauptsache ist, lautlos, +heimlich vor mir. Sie verstehen? Dafur zahlen Narren ein schweres Geld. +Ubrigens brauche ich Sie wohl nicht zu lernen.”[30] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[30] “In the very end you will give in, as though unwillingly, as though +against your will, as though from infatuation, a momentary caprice, and—which +is the main thing—as though on the sly from me. You understand? For this the +fools pay enormous money. However, it seems I will not have to teach you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ja, gnadige Frau. Sie sprechen gar kluge Dinge. Doch das ist schon keine +Plauderei mehr, sondern eine ernste unterhaltung. Yes, my dear madam. You say +very wise things. But this is no longer small talk; it is, rather, serious +conversation ... And for that reason it is more convenient for me, if you will +revert to the Russian language ... I am ready to obey you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Furthermore! ... I was just now talking about a lover. I dare not forbid you +this pleasure, but let us be prudent: let him not appear here, or appear as +rarely as possible. I will give you days for going out, when you will be +perfectly free. But it’s best if you would get along without him entirely. It +will serve your benefit too. This is only a drag and a yoke. I am telling you +this from my own personal experience. Wait a while; after three or four years +we will expand this business so, that you will have substantial money already, +and then I vill take you into the business as a partner with full rights. After +ten years you will still be young and handsome, and then take and buy men as +much as you want to. By that time romantic follies will go out of your head +entirely, and it will not be you who will be chosen already, but you who will +be choosing with sense and with feeling, as a connoisseur picks out precious +stones. Do you agree with me?” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara cast down her eyes, and smiled just the least trifle. +</p> + +<p> +“You speak golden truths, Emma Edwardovna. I will drop mine, but not at once. +For that I will need some two weeks. I will try not to have him appear here. I +accept your proposition.” +</p> + +<p> +“And that’s splendid!” said Emma Edwardovna, get ting up. “Now let us conclude +our agreement with one good, sweet kiss.” +</p> + +<p> +And she again embraced and took to kissing Tamara hard; who, with her downcast +eyes and naive, tender face, seemed now altogether a little girl. But, having +freed herself, finally, from the proprietress, she asked in Russian: +</p> + +<p> +“You see, Emma Edwardovna, that I agree in everything with you, but for that I +beg you to fulfill one request of mine. It will not cost you anything. Namely, +I hope that you will allow me and the other girls to escort the late Jennie to +the cemetery.” +</p> + +<p> +Emma Edwardovna made a wry face. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if you want to, my darling Tamara, I have nothing against your whim. Only +what for? This will not help the dead person and will not make her alive. Only +sentimentalism alone will come out of it ... But very well! Only, however, you +know yourself that in accordance with your law suicides are not buried, or—I +don’t know with certainty—it seems they throw them into some dirty hole beyond +the cemetery.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, do allow me to do as I want to myself. Let it be my whim, but concede it +to me, my darling, dear, bewitching Emma Edwardovna! But then, I promise you +that this will be my last whim. After this I will be like a wise and obedient +soldier at the disposal of a talented general.” +</p> + +<p> +“IS’ GUT!” Emma Edwardovna gave in with a sigh. “I can not deny you in +anything, my child. Let me press your hand. Let us toil and labour together for +the common good.” +</p> + +<p> +And, having opened the door, she called out across the drawing room into the +entrance-hall: “Simeon!” And when Simeon appeared in the room, she ordered him +weightily and triumphantly: +</p> + +<p> +“Bring us a bottle of champagne here, but the real thing—Rederer demi sec, and +as cool as possible. Step lively!” she ordered the porter, who was gaping at +her with popping eyes. “We will drink with you, Tamara, to the new business, to +our brilliant and beautiful future.” +</p> + +<p> +They say that dead people bring luck. If there is any foundation at all in this +superstition, then on this Saturday it could not have told plainer: the influx +of visitors was out of the ordinary, even for a Saturday night. True, the +girls, passing through the corridor or past the room that had been Jennka’s +increased their steps; timorously glanced at it sidelong, out of the corner of +the eye; while others even crossed themselves. But late in the night the fear +of death somehow subsided, grew bearable. All the rooms were occupied, while in +the drawing room a new violinist was trilling without cease—a free-and-easy, +clean-shaven young man, whom the pianist with the cataract had searched out +somewhere and brought with him. +</p> + +<p> +The appointment of Tamara as housekeeper was received with cold perplexity, +with taciturn dryness. But, having bided her time, Tamara managed to whisper to +Little White Manka: +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Manya! You tell them all that they shouldn’t pay any attention to the +fact that I’ve been chosen housekeeper. It’s got to be so. But let them do as +they wish, only don’t let them trip me up. I am as before—their friend and +intercessor ... And further on we’ll see.” +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0307"></a> CHAPTER VII.</h3> + +<p> +On the next day, on Sunday, Tamara had a multitude of cares. She had become +possessed by a firm and undeviating thought to bury her friend despite all +circumstances, in the way that nearest friends are buried—in a Christian +manner, with all the sad solemnity of the burial of secular persons. +</p> + +<p> +She belonged to the number of those strange persons who underneath an external +indolent calmness, careless taciturnity, egotistical withdrawal into one’s +self, conceal within them unusual energy; always as though slumbering with half +an eye, guarding itself from unnecessary expenditure; but ready in one moment +to become animated and to rush forward without reckoning the obstacles. +</p> + +<p> +At twelve o’clock she descended in a cab into the old town; rode through it +into a little narrow street giving out upon a square where fairs were held; and +stopped near a rather dirty tea-room, having ordered the cabby to wait. In the +room she made inquiries of a boy, red-haired, with a badger hair-cut and the +parting slicked down with butter, if Senka the Depot had not come here? The +serving lad, who, judging by his refined and gallant readiness, had already +known Tamara for a long time, answered that “Nohow, ma’am; they—Semen +Ignatich—had not been in yet, and probably would not be here soon seein’ as how +yesterday they had the pleasure of going on a spree at the Transvaal, and had +played at billiards until six in the morning; and that now they, in all +probabilities, are at home, in the Half Way House rooms, and if the young lady +will give the word, then it’s possible to hop over to them this here minute.” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara asked for paper and pencil, and wrote a few words right on the spot. +Then she gave the note to the waiter, together with a half-rouble piece for a +tip, and rode away. +</p> + +<p> +The following visit was to the artiste Rovinskaya, living, as Tamara had known +even before, in the city’s most aristocratic hotel—Europe—where she occupied +several rooms in a consecutive suite. To obtain an interview with the singer +was not very easy: the doorman below said that it looked as if Ellena +Victorovna was not at home; while her own personal maid, who came out in answer +to Tamara’s knocking, declared that madam had a headache, and that she was not +receiving any one. Again Tamara was compelled to write on a piece of paper: +</p> + +<p> +“I come to you from her who once, in a house which is not spoken of loudly, +cried, standing before you on her knees, after you had sung the ballad of +Dargomyzhsky. Your kind treatment of her was so splendid. Do you remember? Do +not fear—she has no need of any one’s help now: yesterday she died. But you can +do one very important deed in her memory, which will be almost no trouble to +you at all. While I—am that very person who permitted herself to say a few +bitter truths to the baroness T—, who was then with you; for which truths I am +remorseful and apologize even now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hand this over!” she ordered the chambermaid. +</p> + +<p> +She returned after two minutes. +</p> + +<p> +“The madam requests you. They apologize very much that they will receive you +not fully dressed.” +</p> + +<p> +She escorted Tamara, opened a door before her and quietly shut it. +</p> + +<p> +The great artiste was lying upon an enormous ottoman, covered with a beautiful +Tekin rug and a multitude of little silk pillows, and soft cylindrical bolsters +of tapestry. Her feet were wrapped up in silvery, soft fur. Her fingers, as +usual, were adorned by a multiplicity of rings with emeralds, attracting the +eyes by their deep and tender green. +</p> + +<p> +The artiste was having one of her evil, black days to-day. Yesterday morning +some misunderstandings with the management had arisen; while in the evening the +public had received her not as triumphantly as she would have desired, or, +perhaps, this had simply appeared so to her; while to-day in the newspaper the +fool of a reviewer, who understood just as much of art as a cow does of +astronomy, had praised up her rival, Titanova, in a big article. And so Ellena +Victorovna had persuaded herself that her head was aching; that there was a +nervous tic in her temples; and that her heart, time and again, seemed suddenly +to fall through somewheres. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, my dear!” she said, a trifle nasally, in a weak, wan voice, +with pauses, as heroines on the stage speak when dying from love and from +consumption. “Sit down here ... I am glad to see you ... Only don’t be angry—I +am almost dying from migraine, and from my miserable heart. Pardon my speaking +with difficulty. I think I sang too much and tired my voice ...” +</p> + +<p> +Rovinskaya, of course, had recalled both the mad escapade of that evening; and +the striking, unforgettable face of Tamara; but now, in a bad mood, in the +wearisome, prosaic light of an autumn day, this adventure appeared to her as +unnecessary bravado; something artificial, imagined, and poignantly shameful. +But she was equally sincere on that strange, night-marish evening when she, +through the might of talent, had prostrated the proud Jennka at her feet, as +well as now, when she recalled it with fatigue, indolence, and artistic +disdain. She, as well as many distinguished artists, was always playing a role; +was always not her own self, and always regarded her words, movements, actions, +as though looking at herself from a distance with the eyes and feelings of the +spectators. +</p> + +<p> +She languidly raised from the pillow her narrow, slender, beautiful hand, and +applied it to her forehead; and the mysterious, deep emeralds stirred as though +alive and began to flash with a warm, deep sparkle. +</p> + +<p> +“I just read in your note that this poor ... pardon me, her name has vanished +out of my head...” +</p> + +<p> +“Jennie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, thank you! I recall it now. She died? But from what?” +</p> + +<p> +“She hanged herself ... yesterday morning, during the doctor’s inspection...” +</p> + +<p> +The eyes of the artiste, so listless, seemingly faded, suddenly opened, and, as +through a miracle, grew animated and became shining and green, just like her +emeralds; and in them were reflected curiosity, fear and aversion. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my God! Such a dear, so original, handsome, so fiery ... Oh, the poor, +poor soul! ... And the reason for this was? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“You know ... the disease. She told you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes ... I remember, I remember ... But to hang one’s self! ... What +horror! ... Why, I advised her to treat herself then. Medicine works miracles +now. I myself know several people who absolutely ... well, absolutely cured +themselves. Everybody in society knows this and receives them ... Ah, the poor +little thing, the poor little thing! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“And so I’ve come to you, Ellena Victorovna. I wouldn’t have dared to disturb +you, but I seem to be in a forest, and have no one to turn to. You were so kind +then, so touchingly attentive, so tender to us ... I need only your advice and, +perhaps, a little of your influence, your protection...” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, please, my dear! ... All I can do, I will ... Oh, my poor head! And then +this horrible news. Tell me, in what way can I be of assistance to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“To confess, I don’t know even myself yet,” answered Tamara. “You see, they +carried her away to an anatomical theatre ... But until they had made the +protocol, until they made the journey—then the time for receiving had gone by +also—in general I think that they have not had a chance to dissect her yet ... +I’d like, if it’s only possible, that she should not be touched. To-day is +Sunday; perhaps they’ll postpone it until to-morrow, and in the meanwhile +something may be done for her...” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell you, dear ... Wait! ... Haven’t I some friend among the +professors, in the medical world? ... I will look later in my memo-books. +Perhaps we will succeed in doing something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Besides that,” continued Tamara, “I want to bury her ... At my expense ... I +was attached to her with all my heart during her life.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will help you with pleasure in this, materially...” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! ... A thousand thanks! ... I’ll do everything myself. I would not +hesitate to have recourse to your kind heart, but this ... —you will understand +me— ... this is something in the nature of a vow, that a person gives to one’s +self and to the memory of a friend. The main difficulty is in how we may manage +to bury her with Christian rites. She was, it seems, an unbeliever, or believed +altogether poorly. And it’s only by chance that I, also, will cross my +forehead. But I don’t want them to bury her just like a dog, somewhere beyond +the enclosure of the cemetery; in silence, without words, without singing ... I +don’t know, will they permit burying her properly—with choristers, with +priests? For that reason I’m asking you to assist me with your advice. Or, +perhaps, you will direct me somewhere? ...” +</p> + +<p> +Now the artiste had little by little become interested and was already +beginning to forget about her fatigue, and migraine, and the consumptive +heroine dying in the fourth act. She was already picturing the role of an +intercessor, the beautiful figure of genius merciful to a fallen woman. This +was original, extravagant, and at the same time so theatrically touching! +Rovinskaya, like many of her confreres, did not let one day pass by—and, if it +were possible, she would not have let pass even one hour—without standing out +from the crowd, without compelling people to talk about her: to-day she would +participate in a pseudo-patriotic manifestation, while to-morrow she would read +from a platform, for the benefit of revolutionaries exiled to Siberia, inciting +verses, full of fire and vengeance. She loved to sell flowers at carnivals, in +riding academies; and to sell champagne at large balls. She would think up her +little bon mots beforehand, which on the morrow would be caught up by the whole +town. She desired that everywhere and always the crowd should look only at her, +repeat her name, love her Egyptian, green eyes, her rapacious and sensuous +mouth; her emeralds on the slender and nervous hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t grasp it all properly at once,” said she after a silence. “But if a +person wants anything hard, he will attain it, and I want to fulfill your wish +with all my soul. Stay, stay! ... I think a glorious thought is coming into my +head ... For then, on that evening, if I mistake not, there was with us, beside +the baroness and me...” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know them ... One of them walked out of the cabinet later than all of +you. He kissed Jennie’s hand and said, that if she should ever need him, he was +always at her service; and gave her his card, but asked her not to show it to +any strangers. But later all this passed off somehow and was forgotten. In some +way I never found the time to ask Jennie who this man was; while yesterday I +searched for the card but couldn’t find it...” +</p> + +<p> +“Allow me, allow me! ... I have recalled it!” the artiste suddenly became +animated. “Aha!” exclaimed she, rapidly getting off the ottoman. “It was +Ryazanov... Yes, yes, yes... The advocate Ernst Andreievich Ryazanov. We will +arrange everything right away. That’s a splendid thought!” +</p> + +<p> +She turned to the little table upon which the telephone apparatus was standing, +and rang: +</p> + +<p> +“Central—18-35 please ... Thank you ... Hello! ... Ask Ernst Andreievich to the +telephone ... The artiste Rovinskaya ... Thank you ... Hello! ... Is this you, +Ernst Andreievich? Very well, very well, but now it isn’t a matter of little +hands. Are you free? ... Drop the nonsense! ... The matter is serious. Couldn’t +you come up to me for a quarter of an hour? ...No, no ... Yes ... Only as a +kind and a clever man. You slander yourself ... Well, that’s splendid, really +... Well, I am not especially well-dressed, but I have a justification—a +fearful headache. No, a lady, a girl ... You will see for yourself, come as +soon as possible ... Thanks! Au revior! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“He will come right away,” said Rovinskaya, hanging up the receiver. “He is a +charming and awfully clever man. Everything is possible to him, even the almost +impossible to man ... But in the meantime ... pardon me—your name?” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara was abashed, but then smiled at herself: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it isn’t worth your disturbing yourself, Ellena Victorovna! Mon nomme de +guerre is Tamara but just so—Anastasia Nikolaevna. It’s all the same—call me +even Tamara ... I am more used to it...” +</p> + +<p> +“Tamara! ... That is so beautiful! ... So now, Mile. Tamara, perhaps you will +not refuse to breakfast with me? Perhaps Ryazanov will also do so with us...” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no time, forgive me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a great pity! ... I hope, some other time ... But, perhaps you smoke,” +and she moved toward her a gold case, adorned with an enormous letter E out of +the same emeralds she adored. +</p> + +<p> +Ryazanov came very soon. +</p> + +<p> +Tamara, who had not examined him properly on that evening, was struck by his +appearance. Tall of stature, almost of an athletic build, with a broad brow, +like Beethoven’s, tangled with artistically negligent black, grizzled hair; +with the large fleshy mouth of the passionate orator; with clear, expressive, +clever, mocking eyes—he had such an appearance as catches one’s eyes among +thousands—the appearance of a vanquisher of souls and a conqueror of hearts; +deeply ambitious, not yet oversated with life; still fiery in love and never +retreating before a beautiful indiscretion ... “If fate had not broken me up +so,” reflected Tamara, watching his movements with enjoyment, “then here’s a +man to whom I’d throw my life; jestingly, with delight, with a smile, as a +plucked rose is thrown to the beloved...” +</p> + +<p> +Ryazanov kissed Rovinskaya’s hand, then with unconstrained simplicity exchanged +greetings with Tamara and said: +</p> + +<p> +“We are acquainted even from that mad evening, when you dumbfounded all of us +with your knowledge of the French language, and when you spoke. That which you +said was, between us, paradoxical; but then, how it was said! ... To this day I +remember the tone of your voice, so warm, expressive ... And so, Ellena +Victorovna,” he turned to Rovinskaya again, sitting down on a small, low chair +without a back, “in what can I be of use to you? I am at your disposal.” +</p> + +<p> +Rovinskaya, with a languid air, again applied the tips of her fingers to her +temples. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, really, I am so upset, my dear Ryazanov,” said she, intentionally +extinguishing the sparkle of her magnificent eyes, “and then, my miserable head +... May I trouble you to pass me the pyramidon what-not from that table ... Let +Mile. Tamara tell you everything ... I can not, I am not able to ... This is so +horrible! ...” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara briefly, lucidly, narrated to Ryazanov all the sad history of Jennka’s +death; recalled also about the card left with Jennie; and also how the deceased +had reverently preserved this card; and—in passing—about his promise to help in +case of need. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, of course!” exclaimed Ryanzanov, when she had finished; and at once +began pacing the room back and forth with big steps, ruffling and tossing back +his picturesque hair through habit. “You are performing a magnificent, sincere, +comradely action! That is good! ... That is very good! ... I am yours ... You +say—a permit for the funeral ... Hm ... God grant me memory!...” +</p> + +<p> +He rubbed his forehead with his palm. +</p> + +<p> +“Hm ... hm ... If I’m not mistaken—Monocanon, rule one hundred seventy ... one +hundred seventy ... eight ... Pardon me, I think I remember it by heart ... +Pardon me! ... Yes, so! ‘If a man slayeth himself, he shall not be chanted +over, nor shall a mass be said for him, unless he were greatly astonied, that +is, to wit, out of his mind’... Hm ... See St. Timothy Alexandrine ... And so, +my dear miss, the first thing ... You say, that she was taken down from the +noose by your doctor—i.e., the official city doctor ... His name? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Klimenko.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems I’ve met him somewheres ... All right ... Who is the district +inspector in your precinct station?” +</p> + +<p> +“Kerbesh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aha, I know ... Such a strong, virile fellow, with a red beard in a fan ... +Yes?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that is he.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know him very well! There, now, is somebody that a sentence to hard labour +is hankering after ... Some ten times he fell into my hands; and always, the +skunk, gave me the slip somehow. Slippery, just like an eel-pout ... We will +have to slip him a little present. Well, now! And then the anatomical theatre +... When do you want to bury her?” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, I don’t know ... I would like to do it as soon as possible ... if +possible, to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hm ... To-day ... I don’t vouch for it—we will hardly manage it ... But here +is my memorandum book. Well, take even this page, where are my friends under +the letter T—just write the very same way: Tamara, and your address. In two +hours I will give you an answer. Does that suit you? But I repeat again, that +probably you will have to postpone the burial till to-morrow ... Then—pardon my +unceremoniousness—is money needed, perhaps?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank you!” refused Tamara. “I have money. Thanks for your interest! ... +It’s time for me to be going. I thank you with all my heart, Ellen Victorovna! +...” +</p> + +<p> +“Then expect it in two hours,” repeated Ryazanov, escorting her to the door. +</p> + +<p> +Tamara did not at once ride away to the house. She turned into a little +coffee-house on Catholicheskaya Street on the way. There Senka the Depot was +waiting for her—a gay fellow with the appearance of a handsome Tzigan; not +black—but blue-haired; black-eyed, with yellow whites; resolute and daring in +his work; the pride of local thieves—a great celebrity in their world, the +first leader of experience, and a constant, all-night gamester. +</p> + +<p> +He stretched out his hand to her, without getting up. But in the way in which +he so carefully, with a certain force, seated her in her place could be seen a +broad, good-natured endearment. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Tamarochka! Haven’t seen you in a long time—I grew weary ... Do +you want coffee?” +</p> + +<p> +“No! Business first ... To-morrow we bury Jennka ... She hanged herself...” +“Yes, I read it in a newspaper,” carelessly drawled out Senka through his +teeth. “What’s the odds? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Get fifty roubles for me at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tamarochka, my sweetheart—I haven’t a kopeck! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m telling you—get them!” ordered Tamara, imperiously, but without getting +angry. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my Lord! ... Yours, now, I didn’t touch, like I promised; but then, it’s +Sunday ... The savings banks are closed...” +</p> + +<p> +“Let them! ... Hock the savings book! In general, it’s up to you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you need this, my dearie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t it all the same to you, you fool? ... For the funeral.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Well, all right then!” sighed Senka. “Then I’d best bring it to you myself +in the evening ... Right, Tamarochka? ... It’s so very hard for me to stand it +without you! Oh, my dearie, how I’d kiss and kiss you; I wouldn’t let you close +your eyes! ... Shan’t I come? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! ... You do as I ask you, Senechka ... Give in to me. But you mustn’t +come—I’m housekeeper now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what d’you know about that! ...” drawled out the astonished Senka and +even whistled. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. And don’t you come to me in the meantime. But afterwards, afterwards, +sweetheart, whatever you desire ... There will be an end to everything soon!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if you wouldn’t make me suffer so! Wind things up as soon as you can!” +</p> + +<p> +“And I will wind ’em up! Wait one little week more, dearie! Did you get the +powders?” +</p> + +<p> +“The powders are a trifle!” discontentedly answered Senka. “And it isn’t +powders at all, but pills.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you’re sure when you say that they’ll dissolve at once in water?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sure, I saw it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he won’t die? Listen, Senya: he won’t die? Is that right?...” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing will happen to him ... He’ll only snooze for a while ... Oh, Tamara!” +exclaimed he in a passionate whisper; and even suddenly stretched himself hard +from an unbearable emotion, so that his joints cracked. “Finish it, for God’s +sake, as soon as possible! ... Let’s do the trick and—bye-bye! Wherever you +want to go to, sweet-heart! I am all at your will: if you want to, we start off +for Odessa; if you want to—abroad. Finish it up as soon as possible! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Soon, soon...” +</p> + +<p> +“You just wink at me, and I’m all ready ... with powders, with instruments, +with passports ... And then—choo-choo! The machine is off! Tamarochka! My +angel! ... My precious, my sparkler! ...” +</p> + +<p> +And he, always restrained, having forgotten that he could be seen by strangers, +already wanted to embrace and hug Tamara to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, now!” ... rapidly and deftly, like a cat, Tamara jumped off the chair. +“Afterwards ... afterwards, Senechka, afterwards, little dearie! ... I’ll be +all yours—there won’t be any denial, nor forbiddance. I’ll myself make you +weary of me ... Good-bye, my little silly!” +</p> + +<p> +And with a quick movement of her hand having rumpled up his black curls, she +hastily went out of the coffee-house. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0308"></a> CHAPTER VIII.</h3> + +<p> +On the next day, on Monday, toward ten o’clock in the morning, almost all the +inmates of the house—formerly Madam Shaibes’, but now Emma Edwardovna +Titzner’s—rode off in cabs to the centre of the city, to the anatomical +theatre—all, except the far-sighted, much-experienced Henrietta; the cowardly +and insensible Ninka; and the feeble-minded Pashka, who for two days now had +not gotten up from her bed, kept silent, and to questions directed at her +answered by a beatific, idiotical smile and with some sort of inarticulate +animal lowing. If she were not given to eat, she would not even ask; but if +food were brought, she would eat with greediness, right with her hands. She +became so slovenly and forgetful, that it was necessary to remind her of +certain necessary functions in order to avoid unpleasantness. Emma Edwardovna +did not send out Pashka to her steady guests, who asked for Pashka every day. +Even before, she had had such periods of a detriment of consciousness; however, +they had not lasted long, and Emma Edwardovna in any case determined to tide it +over: Pashka was a veritable treasure for the establishment, and its truly +horrible victim. +</p> + +<p> +The anatomical theatre represented a long, one-storied, dark-gray building, +with white frames around the windows and doors. There was in its very exterior +something low, pressed down, receding into the ground, almost weird. The girls +one after the other stopped near the gates and timidly passed through the yard +into the chapel; nestled down at the other end of the yard, in a corner, +painted over in the same dark gray colour, with white frame-work. +</p> + +<p> +The door was locked. It was necessary to go after the watchman. Tamara with +difficulty sought out a bald, ancient old man, grown over as though with bog +moss by entangled gray bristles; with little rheumy eyes and an enormous, +reddish, dark-blue granulous nose, on the manner of a cookie. +</p> + +<p> +He unlocked the enormous hanging lock, pushed away the bolt and opened the +rusty, singing door. The cold, damp air together with the mixed smell of the +dampness of stones, frankincense, and dead flesh breathed upon the girls. They +fell back, huddling closely into a timorous flock. Tamara alone went after the +watchman without wavering. +</p> + +<p> +It was almost dark in the chapel. The autumn light penetrated scantily through +the little, narrow prison-like window, barred with an iron grating. Two or +three images without chasubles, dark and without visages, hung upon the walls. +Several common board coffins were standing right on the floor, upon wooden +carrying shafts. One in the middle was empty, and the taken-off lid was lying +alongside. +</p> + +<p> +“What sort is yours, now?” asked the watchman hoarsely and took some snuff. “Do +you know her face or not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, look! I’ll show them all to you. Maybe this one? ...” +</p> + +<p> +And he took the lid off one of the coffins, not yet fastened down with nails. A +wrinkled old woman, dressed any old way in her tatters, with a swollen blue +face, was lying there. Her left eye was closed; while the right was staring and +gazing immovably and frightfully, having already lost its sparkle and +resembling mica that had lain for a long time. +</p> + +<p> +“Not this one, you say? Well, look ... Here’s more for you!” said the watchman; +and one after the other, opening the lids, exhibited the decedents—all, +probably, the poorest of the poor: picked up on the streets, intoxicated, +crushed, maimed and mutilated, beginning to decompose. Certain ones had already +begun to show on their hands and faces bluish-green spots, resembling +mould—signs of putrefaction. One man, without a nose, with an upper hare-lip +cloven in two, had worms, like little white dots, swarming upon his sore-eaten +face. A woman who had died from hydropsy, reared like a whole mountain from her +board couch, bulging out the lid. +</p> + +<p> +All of them had been hastily sewn up after autopsy, repaired, and washed by the +moss-covered watchman and his mates. What affair was it of theirs if, at times, +the brain got into the stomach; while the skull was stuffed with the liver and +rudely joined with the help of sticking plaster to the head? The watchmen had +grown used to everything during their night-marish, unlikely, drunken life; +and, by the bye, almost never did their voiceless clients prove to have either +relatives or acquaintances... +</p> + +<p> +A heavy odour of carrion—thick, cloying, and so viscid that to Tamara it seemed +as though it was covering all the living pores of her body just like glue—stood +in the chapel. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, watchman,” asked Tamara, “what’s this crackling under my feet all the +time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Crack-ling?” the watchman questioned her over again, and scratched himself, +“why, lice, it must be,” he said indifferently. “It’s fierce how these beasties +do multiply on the corpseses! ... But who you lookin’ for—man or woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“A woman,” answered Tamara. +</p> + +<p> +“And that means that all these ain’t yours?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, they’re all strangers.” +</p> + +<p> +“There, now! ... That means I have to go to the morgue. When did they bring +her, now?” +</p> + +<p> +“On Saturday, grandpa,” and Tamara at this got out her purse. “Saturday, in the +daytime. There’s something for tobacco for you, my dear sir!” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the way! Saturday, you say in the daytime? And what did she have on?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, almost nothing; a little night blouse, an underskirt ... both the one +and the other white.” +</p> + +<p> +“So-o! That must be number two hundred and seventeen ... How is she called, +now? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Susannah Raitzina.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go and see—maybe she’s there. Well, now, mam’selles,” he turned to the +young ladies, who were dully huddling in the doorway, obstructing the light. +“Which of you are the braver? If your friend came the day before yesterday, +then that means that she’s now lying in the manner that the Lord God has +created all mankind—that is, without anything ... Well, who of you will be the +bolder? Which two of you will come? She’s got to be dressed...” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, you go, Manka,” Tamara ordered her mate, who, grown chill and pale +from horror and aversion, was staring at the dead with widely open, limpid +eyes. “Don’t be afraid, you fool—I’ll go with you! Who’s to go, if not you? +</p> + +<p> +“Well, am I ... well, am I? ...” babbled Little White Manka with barely moving +lips. “Let’s go. It’s all the same to me...” +</p> + +<p> +The morgue was right here, behind the chapel—a low, already entirely dark +basement, into which one had to descend by six steps. +</p> + +<p> +The watchman ran off somewhere, and returned with a candle-end and a tattered +book. When he had lit the candle, the girls saw a score of corpses that were +lying directly on the stone floor in regular rows—extended, yellow, with faces +distorted by pre-mortal convulsions, with skulls split open, with clots of +blood on their faces, with grinning teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“Right away ... right away...” the watchman was saying, guiding his finger over +the headings. “The day before yesterday ... that means, on Saturday ... on +Saturday ... What did you say her name was, now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Raitzina, Susannah,” answered Tamara. +</p> + +<p> +“Rai-tzina Susannah ...” said the watchman, just as though he were singing, +“Raitzina, Susannah. Just as I said. Two hundred seventeen.” Bending over the +dead and illuminating them with the guttered and dripping candle-end, he passed +from one to another. Finally he stopped before a corpse, upon whose foot was +written in ink, in large black figures: 217. +</p> + +<p> +“Here’s the very same one! Let me, I’ll carry her out into the little corridor +and run after her stuff ... Wait a while! ...” +</p> + +<p> +Grunting, but still with an ease amazing in one of his age, he lifted up the +corpse of Jennka by the feet, and threw it upon his back with the head down, as +though it were a carcass of meat, or a bag of potatoes. +</p> + +<p> +It was a trifle lighter in the corridor; and, when the watchman had lowered his +horrible burden to the floor, Tamara for a moment covered her face with her +hands, while Manka turned away and began to cry. +</p> + +<p> +“If you need anything, say so,” the watchman was instructing them. “If you want +to dress the deceased as is fitting, then we can get everything that’s +required—cloth of gold, a little wreath, a little image, a shroud, gauze—we +keep everything ... You can buy a thing or two in, clothing ... Slippers, too, +now...” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara gave him money and went out into the air, letting Manka go in front of +her. +</p> + +<p> +After some time two wreaths were brought; one from Tamara, of asters and +georginas with an inscription in black letters upon a white ribbon: “To Jennie +from a friend;” the other was from Ryazanov, all of red flowers; upon its red +ribbon stood in gold characters: “Through suffering shall we be purified.” He +also sent a short little note, expressing commiseration and apologizing for not +being able to come, as he was occupied with an undeferrable business meeting. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the singers who had been invited by Tamara—fifteen men from the very +best choir in the city. +</p> + +<p> +The precentor, in a gray overcoat and a gray hat, all gray, somehow, as though +covered with dust, but with long, straight moustaches, like a military +person’s, recognized Verka; opened his eyes wide in astonishment, smiled +slightly and winked at her. Two or three times a month, and sometimes even +oftener, he visited Yamskaya Street with ecclesiastical academicians of his +acquaintance, just the same precentors as he, and some psalmists; and having +usually made a full review of all the establishments, always wound up with the +house of Anna Markovna, where he invariably chose Verka. +</p> + +<p> +He was a merry and sprightly man; danced in a lively manner, in a frenzy; and +executed such figures during the dances that all those present just melted from +laughter. +</p> + +<p> +Following the singers came the two-horsed catafalque, that Tamara had hired; +black, with white plumes, and seven torch-bearers along with it. They also +brought a white, glazed brocade coffin; and a pedestal for it, stretched over +with black calico. Without hurrying, with habitually deft movements, they put +away the deceased into the coffin; covered her face with gauze; curtained off +the corpse with cloth of gold, and lit the candles—one at the head and two at +the feet. +</p> + +<p> +Now, in the yellow, trembling light of the candles, the face of Jennka became +more clearly visible. The lividness had almost gone off it, remaining only here +and there on the temples, on the nose, and between the eyes, in party-coloured, +uneven, serpentine spots. Between the parted dark lips slightly glimmered the +whiteness of the teeth, and the tip of the bitten tongue was still visible. Out +of the open collar of the neck, which had taken on the colour of old parchment, +showed two stripes: one dark—the mark of the rope; another red—the sign of the +scratch, inflicted by Simeon during the encounter—just like two fearful +necklaces. Tamara approached and with a safety pin pinned together the lace on +the collar, at the very chin. +</p> + +<p> +The clergy came: a little gray priest in gold spectacles, in a skull-cap; a +lanky, tall, thin-haired deacon with a sickly, strangely dark and yellow face, +as though of terra-cotta; and a sprightly, long-skirted psalmist, animatedly +exchanging on his way some gay, mysterious signs with his friends among the +singers. +</p> + +<p> +Tamara walked up to the priest: +</p> + +<p> +“Father,” she asked, “how will you perform the funeral service; all together or +each one separate?” +</p> + +<p> +“We perform the funeral service for all of them conjointly,” answered the +priest, kissing the stole, and extricating his beard and hair out of its slits. +“Usually, that is. But by special request, and by special agreement, it’s also +possible to do it separately. What death did the deceased undergo?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s a suicide, father.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hm ... a suicide? ... But do you know, young person, that by the canons of the +church there isn’t supposed to be any funeral service ... there ought not to be +any? Of course, there are exceptions—by special intercession...” +</p> + +<p> +“Right here, father, I have certificates from the police and from the doctor +... She wasn’t in her right mind ... in a fit of insanity...” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara extended to the priest two papers, sent her the evening before by +Ryazanov, and on top of them three bank-notes of ten roubles each. “I would beg +of you, father, to do everything fitting—Christian like. She was a splendid +being, and suffered a very great deal. And won’t you be so kind—go along with +her to the cemetery, and there hold one more little mass...” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all right for me to go along with her to the cemetery, but in the +cemetery itself I have no right to hold service—there is a clergy of their own +... And also here’s how, young person; in view of the fact that I’ll have to +return once more after the rest, won’t you, now ... add another little +ten-spot.” +</p> + +<p> +And having taken the money from Tamara’s hand, the priest blessed the thurible, +which had been brought up by the psalmist, and began to walk around the body of +the deceased with thurification. Then, having stopped at her head, he in a +meek, wontedly sad voice, uttered: +</p> + +<p> +“Blessed is our God. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, +world without end!” +</p> + +<p> +The psalmist began pattering: Holy God, Most Holy Trinity and Our Father poured +out like peas. +</p> + +<p> +Quietly, as though confiding some deep, sad, occult mystery, the singers began +in a rapid, sweet recitative: “With Thy blessed saints in glory everlasting, +the soul of this Thy servant save, set at rest; preserving her in the blessed +life, as Thou hast loving kindness for man.” +</p> + +<p> +The psalmist distributed the candles; and they with warm, soft, living little +flames, one after the other, were lit in the heavy, murky air, tenderly and +transparently illuminating the faces of the women. +</p> + +<p> +Harmoniously the mournful melody flowed forth, and like the sighs of aggrieved +angels sounded the great words: +</p> + +<p> +“Rest, oh God, this Thy servant and establish her in Heaven, wherein the faces +of the just and the saints of the Lord shine like unto lights; set at rest this +Thy servant who hath fallen asleep, contemning all her trespasses.” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara was listening intently to the long familiar, but now long unheard words, +and was smiling bitterly. The passionate, mad words of Jennka came back to her, +full of such inescapable despair and unbelief ... Would the all-merciful, +all-gracious Lord forgive or would He not forgive her foul, fumy, embittered, +unclean life? All-Knowing—can it be that Thou wouldst repulse her—the pitiful +rebel, the involuntary libertine; a child that had uttered blasphemies against +Thy radiant, holy name? Thou—Benevolence, Thou—our Consolation! +</p> + +<p> +A dull, restrained wailing, suddenly passing into a scream, resounded in the +chapel. “Oh, Jennechka!” This was Little White Manka, standing on her knees and +stuffing her mouth with her handkerchief, beating about in tears. And the +remaining mates, following her, also got down upon their knees; and the chapel +was filled with sighs, stifled lamentations and sobbings ... +</p> + +<p> +“Thou alone art deathless, Who hast created and made man; out of the dust of +the earth were we made, and unto the same dust shall we return; as Thou hast +ordained me, creating me and saying unto me, dust thou art and unto dust shalt +thou return.” +</p> + +<p> +Tamara was standing motionless and with an austere face that seemed turned to +stone. The light of the candle in thin gold spirals shone in her +bronze-chestnut hair; while she could not tear her eyes away from the lines of +Jennka’s moist, yellow forehead and the tip of her nose, which were visible to +Tamara from her place. +</p> + +<p> +“Dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return ...” she was mentally repeating +the words of the canticles. “Could it be that that would be all; only earth +alone and nothing more? And which is better: nothing, or even anything at +all—even the most execrable—but merely to be existing?” +</p> + +<p> +And the choir, as though affirming her thoughts, as though taking away from her +the last consolation, was uttering forlornly: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> +“And all mankind may go...” +</p> + +<p> +They sang Eternal Memory through, blew out the candles, and the little blue +streams spread in the air, blue from frankincense. The priest read through the +farewell prayer; and afterwards, in the general silence, scooped up some sand +with the little shovel handed to him by the psalmist, and cast it cross-wise +upon the corpse, on top of the gauze. And at this he was uttering great words, +filled with the austere, sad inevitability of a mysterious universal law: “The +world is the Lord’s, and its fulfillment the universe, and all that dwelleth +therein.” +</p> + +<p> +The girls escorted their dead mate to the very cemetery. The road thither +intersected the very entrance to Yamskaya Street. It would have been possible +to turn to the left through it, and that would have been almost half as short; +but dead people were not usually carried through Yamskaya. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, out of almost all the doors their inmates poured out towards the +cross roads, in whatever they had on: in slippers upon bare feet, in night +gowns, with kerchiefs upon their heads; they crossed themselves, sighed, wiped +their eyes with their handkerchiefs and the edges of their jackets. +</p> + +<p> +The weather cleared up ... The cold sun shone brightly from a cold sky of +radiant blue enamel; the last grass showed its green, the withered leaves on +the trees glowed, showing their pink and gold ... And in the crystal clear, +cold air solemnly, and mournfully reverberated the sonorous sounds: “Holy God, +Holy Almighty, Holy Everliving, have mercy upon us!” And with what flaming +thirst for life, not to be satiated by aught; with what longing for the +momentary—transient like unto a dream—joy and beauty of being; with what horror +before the eternal silence of death, sounded the ancient refrain of John +Damascene! +</p> + +<p> +Then a brief requiem at the grave, the dull thud of the earth against the lid +of the coffin ... a small fresh hillock ... +</p> + +<p> +“And here’s the end!” said Tamara to her comrades, when they were left alone. +“Oh, well, girls—an hour earlier, an hour later! ... I’m sorry for Jennka! ... +Horribly sorry! ... We won’t ever find such another. And yet, my children, it’s +far better for her in her pit than for us in ours ... Well, let’s cross +ourselves for the last time—and home! ...” +</p> + +<p> +And when they all were already nearing their house, Tamara suddenly uttered +pensively the strange, ominous words: +</p> + +<p> +“And we won’t be long together without her: soon we will be scattered, by the +wind far and wide. Life is good! ... Look: there’s the sun, the blue sky ... +How pure the air is ... Cobwebs are floating—it’s Indian summer ... How good it +is in this world! ... Only we alone—we wenches—are wayside rubbish.” +</p> + +<p> +The girls started off on their journey. But suddenly from somewhere on the +side, from behind a monument, a tall sturdy student detached himself. He caught +up with Liubka and softly touched her sleeve. She turned around and beheld +Soloviev. Her face instantaneously turned pale, her eyes opened wide and her +lips began to tremble. +</p> + +<p> +“Go away!” she said quietly, with infinite hatred. +</p> + +<p> +“Liuba ... Liubochka ...” Soloviev began to mumble. “I searched ... searched +for you ... I ... Honest to God, I’m not like that one ... like Lichonin ... +I’m in earnest ... even right now, even to-day. +</p> + +<p> +“Go away!” still more quietly pronounced Liubka. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m serious ... I’m serious ... I’m not trifling, I want to marry...” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you creature!” suddenly squealed out Liubka, and quickly, hard, +peasant-like, hit Soloviev on the cheek with her palm. +</p> + +<p> +Soloviev stood a little while, slightly swaying. His eyes were like those of a +martyr ... The mouth half-open, with mournful creases at the sides. +</p> + +<p> +“Go away! Go away! I can’t bear to look at all of you!” Liubka was screaming +with rage. “Hangmen, swine!” +</p> + +<p> +Soloviev unexpectedly covered his face with his palms and went back, without +knowing his way, with uncertain steps, like one drunk. +</p> + +<h3><a name="chap0309"></a> CHAPTER IX.</h3> + +<p> +And in reality, the words of Tamara proved to be prophetic: since the funeral +of Jennie not more than two weeks had passed, but during this brief space of +time so many events burst over the house of Emma Edwardovna as do not befall +sometimes even in half a decade. +</p> + +<p> +On the very next day they had to send off to a charitable institution—into a +lunatic asylum—the unfortunate Pashka, who had fallen completely into +feeble-mindedness. The doctors said that there was no hope of her ever +improving. And in reality, as they had placed her in the hospital on the floor, +upon a straw mattress, so did she remain upon it without getting up from it to +her very death; submerging more and more into the black, bottomless abyss of +quiet feeble-mindedness; but she died only half a year later, from bed-sores +and infection of the blood. +</p> + +<p> +The next turn was Tamara’s. +</p> + +<p> +For about half a month she fulfilled the duties of a housekeeper, was all the +time unusually active, energetic; and somehow unwontedly wound up with that +inner something of her own, which was so strongly fomenting within her. On a +certain evening she vanished, and did not return at all to the establishment... +</p> + +<p> +The matter of fact was, that in the city she had carried on a protracted +romance with a certain notary—an elderly man, sufficiently rich, but +exceedingly niggardly. Their acquaintance had been scraped up yet a year back, +when they had been by chance travelling together on the same steamer to a +suburban monastery, and had begun a conversation. The clever, handsome Tamara; +her enigmatic, depraved smile; her entertaining conversation; her modest manner +of deporting herself, had captivated the notary. She had even then marked down +for herself this elderly man with picturesque gray hair, with seigniorial +manners; an erstwhile jurisconsult and a man of good family. She did not tell +him about her profession—it pleased her rather to mystify him. She only hazily, +in a few words, hinted at the fact that she was a married lady of the middle +class; that she was unfortunate in domestic life, since her husband was a +gambler and a despot; and that even by fate she was denied such a consolation +as children. At parting she refused to pass an evening with the notary, and did +not want to meet him; but then she allowed him to write to her—general +delivery, under a fictitious name. A correspondence commenced between them, in +which the notary flaunted his style and the ardency of his feelings, worthy of +the heroes of Paul Bourget. She maintained the same withdrawn, mysterious tone. +</p> + +<p> +Then, being touched by the entreaties of the notary for a meeting, she made an +appointment in Prince Park; was charming, witty, and languishing; but refused +to go with him anywhere. +</p> + +<p> +So she tortured her adorer and skillfully inflamed within him the last passion, +which at times is stronger and more dangerous than first love. Finally, this +summer, when the family of the notary had gone abroad, she decided to visit his +rooms; and here for the first time gave herself up to him with tears, with +twinges of her conscience, and at the same time with such ardour and +tenderness, that the poor secretary lost his head completely—was plunged +entirely into that senile love, which no longer knows either reason or +retrospect; which compels a man to lose the last thing—the fear of appearing +ridiculous. +</p> + +<p> +Tamara was very sparing of her meetings. This inflamed her impatient friend +still more. She consented to receiving from him bouquets of flowers, a modest +breakfast in a suburban restaurant; but indignantly refused all expensive +presents, and bore herself so skillfully and subtly, that the notary never got +up the courage to offer her money. When he once stammered out something about a +separate apartment and other conveniences, she looked him in the eyes so +intently, haughtily, and sternly, that he, like a boy, turned red in his +picturesque gray hairs, and kissed her hands, babbling incoherent apologies. +</p> + +<p> +So did Tamara play with him, and feel the ground more and more under her. She +already knew now on what days the notary kept in his fireproof iron safe +especially large sums. However, she did not hurry, fearing to spoil the +business through clumsiness or prematurity. +</p> + +<p> +And so right now this long expected day arrived; a great contractors’ fair had +just ended, and all the notaries’ offices were transacting deals for enormous +suras every day. Tamara knew that the notary usually carried off the money to +the bank on Saturdays, in order to be perfectly free on Sunday. And for that +reason on Friday the notary received the following letter: +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, my adored King Solomon! Thy Shoilamite, thy girl of the vineyard, +greets thee with burning kisses ... Dear, to-day is a holiday for me, and I am +infinitely happy. To-day I am free, as well as you. HE has gone away to Homel +for twenty-four hours on business matters, and I want to pass all the evening +and ALL the night in your place. Ah, my beloved! All my life I am ready to pass +on my knees before thee. I do not want to go anywhere. The suburban road-houses +and cabarets have bored me long ago. I want you, only you ... you ... you +alone. Await me, then, in the evening, my joy, about ten-eleven-o’clock! +Prepare a great quantity of cold white wine, a canteloupe, and sugared +chestnuts. I am burning, I am dying from desire! It seems to me, I will tire +you out! I can not wait! My head is spinning around, my face burning, and my +hands as cold as ice. I embrace you. Thy Valentina.” +</p> + +<p> +That very same evening, about eleven o’clock, she artfully, through +conversation, led the notary into showing her his fireproof safe; playing upon +his odd, pecuniary vanity. Rapidly gliding with her glance over the shelves and +the movable boxes, Tamara turned away with a skillfully executed yawn and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Fie, what a bore!” +</p> + +<p> +And, having embraced the notary’s neck, she whispered with her lips at his very +ears, burning him with her hot breath: +</p> + +<p> +“Lock up this nastiness, my treasure! Let’s go! .... Let’s go! ...” +</p> + +<p> +And she was the first to go out into the dining room. +</p> + +<p> +“Come here, now, Volodya!” she cried out from there. “Come quicker! I want wine +and after that love, love, love without end! ... No! Drink it all, to the very +bottom! Just as we will drain our love to the very bottom today!” +</p> + +<p> +The notary clinked glasses with her and at one gulp drank off his glass. Then +he drew in his lips and remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“Strange ... The wine seems to be sort of bitter to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” agreed Tamara and looked attentively at her lover. “This wine is always +the least bit bitter. For such is the nature of Rhine wines...” +</p> + +<p> +“But to-day it’s especially strong,” said the notary. “No, thanks, my dear—I +don’t want any more!” +</p> + +<p> +After five minutes he fell asleep, sitting in his chair; his head thrown back +against its back, and his lower jaw hanging down. Tamara waited for some time +and started to awaken him. He was without motion. Then she took the lit candle, +and, having placed it on the window sill giving out upon the street, went out +into the entrance hall and began to listen, until she heard light steps on the +stairs. Almost without a sound she opened the door and let in Senka, dressed +like a real gentleman, with a brand new leather hand-bag in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Ready?” asked the thief in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s sleeping,” answered Tamara, just as quietly. “Look and here are the +keys.” +</p> + +<p> +They passed together into the study with the fireproof safe. Having looked over +the lock with the aid of a flashlight, Senka swore in a low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“The devil take him, the old animal! ... I just knew that it would be a lock +with a combination. Here you’ve got to know the letters ... It’s got to be +melted with electricity, and the devil knows how much time it’ll take.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not necessary,” retorted Tamara hurriedly. “I know the word ... Pick it +out: m-o-r-t-g-a-g-. Without the e.” +</p> + +<p> +After ten minutes they descended the steps together; went in purposely broken +lines through several streets, hiring a cab to the depot only in the old city; +and rode out of the city with irreproachable passports of citizens and landed +proprietors—the Stavnitzkys, man and wife. For a long time nothing was heard of +them until, a year later, Senka was caught in Moscow in a large theft, and gave +Tamara away during the interrogation. They were both tried and sentenced to +imprisonment. +</p> + +<p> +Following Tamara came the turn of the naive, trusting, and amorous Verka. For a +long time already she had been in love with a semi-military man, who called +himself a civic clerk in the military department. His name was Dilectorsky. In +their relations Verka was the adoring party; while he, like an important idol, +condescendingly received the worship and the proffered gifts. Even from the end +of summer Verka noticed that her beloved was becoming more and more cold and +negligent; and, talking with her, was dwelling in thought somewhere far, far +away. She tortured herself, was jealous, questioned him, but always received in +answer some indeterminate phrases, some ominous hints at a near misfortune, at +a premature grave ... +</p> + +<p> +In the beginning of September he finally confessed to her, that he had +embezzled official money, big money, something around three thousand; and that +after five days he would be checked up, and that he, Dilectorsky, was +threatened with disgrace, the court, and finally, hard labour ... Here the +civic clerk of the military department burst into sobs, clasping his head, and +exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“My poor mother! ... What will become of her? She will not be able to sustain +this degradation ... No! Death is a thousand times better than these hellish +tortures of a being guilty of naught.” +</p> + +<p> +Although he was expressing himself, as always, in the style of the dime novels +(in which way he had mainly enticed the trusting Verka), still, the theatrical +thought of suicide, once arisen, no longer forsook him. +</p> + +<p> +Somehow one day he was promenading for a long time with Verka in Prince Park. +Already greatly devastated by autumn, this wonderful ancient park glistened and +played with the magnificent tones of the foliage, blossoming out into colours: +crimson, purple, lemon, orange and the deep cherry colour of old, settled wine; +and it seemed that the cold air was diffusing sweet odours, like precious wine. +And yet, a fine impress, a tender aroma of death, was wafted from the bushes, +from the grass, from the trees. +</p> + +<p> +Dilectorsky waxed tender; gave his feelings a free rein, was moved over +himself, and began to weep. Verka wept a bit with him, too. +</p> + +<p> +“To-day I will kill myself!” said Dilectorsky finally. “All is over! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“My own, don’t! ... My precious, don’t! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s impossible,” answered Dilectorsky sombrely. “The cursed money! ... Which +is dearer—honour or life?!” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear...” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t speak, don’t speak, Annetta!” (He, for some reason, preferred to the +common name of Verka the aristocratic Annetta, thought up by himself.) “Don’t +speak. This is decided!” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if only I could help you!” exclaimed Verka woefully. “Why, I’d give my +life away ... Every drop of blood! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“What is life?” Dilectorsky shook his head with an actor’s despondence. +“Farewell, Annetta! ... Farewell! ...” +</p> + +<p> +The girl desperately began to shake her head: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want it! ... I don’t want it! ... I don’t want it! ... Take me! ... +I’ll go with you too! ...” +</p> + +<p> +Late in the evening Dilectorsky took a room in an expensive hotel. He knew, +that within a few hours, perhaps minutes, he and Verka would be corpses; and +for that reason, although he had in his pocket only eleven kopecks, all in all, +he gave orders sweepingly, like a habitual, downright prodigal; he ordered +sturgeon stew, double snipes, and fruits; and, in addition to all this, coffee, +liqueurs and two bottles of frosted champagne. And he was in reality convinced +that he would shoot himself; but thought of it somehow affectedly, as though +admiring, a trifle from the side, his tragic role; and enjoying beforehand the +despair of his relatives and the amazement of his fellow clerks. While Verka, +when she had suddenly said that she would commit suicide with her beloved, had +been immediately strengthened in this thought. And there was nothing fearful to +Verka in this impending death. “Well, now, is it better to croak just so, under +a fence? But here it’s together with your dearie! At least a sweet death! ...” +And she frantically kissed her clerk, laughed, and with dishevelled, curly +hair, with sparkling eyes, was prettier than she had ever been. +</p> + +<p> +The final triumphal moment arrived at last. +</p> + +<p> +“You and I have both enjoyed ourselves, Annetta ... We have drained the cup to +the bottom and now, to use an expression of Pushkin’s, must shatter the +goblet!” said Dilectorsky. “You do not repent, oh, my dear? ...” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no! ...” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you ready?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes!” whispered she and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Then turn away to the wall and shut your eyes!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, my dearest, I don’t want it so! ... I don’t want it! Come to me! +There, so! Nearer, nearer.. Give me your eyes, I will be gazing into them. Give +me your lips—I will be kissing you, while you... I am not afraid! ... Be +braver! ... Kiss me harder! ...” +</p> + +<p> +He killed her; and when he looked upon the horrible deed of his hands, he then +suddenly felt a loathsome, abominable, abject fear. The half-naked body of +Verka was still quivering on the bed. The legs of Dilectorsky gave in from +horror; but the reason of a hypocrite, coward and blackguard kept vigil: he did +still have spirit sufficient to stretch away at his side the skin over his +ribs, and to shoot through it. And when he was falling, frantically crying out +from pain, from fright, and from the thunder of the shot, the last convulsion +was running through the body of Verka. +</p> + +<p> +While two weeks after the death of Verka, the naive, sportful, meek, brawling +Little White Manka perished as well. During one of the general, clamourous +brawls, usual in the Yamkas, in an enormous affray, some one killed her, +hitting her with a heavy empty bottle over the head. And the murderer remained +undiscovered to the last. +</p> + +<p> +So rapidly did events take place in the Yamkas, in the house of Emma +Edwardovna; and well nigh not a one of its inmates escaped a bloody, foul or +disgraceful doom. +</p> + +<p> +The final, most grandiose, and at the same time most bloody calamity was the +devastation committed on the Yamkas by soldiers. +</p> + +<p> +Two dragoons had been short-changed in a rouble establishment, beaten up, and +thrown out at night into the street. Tom to pieces, in blood, they returned to +the barracks, where their comrades, having begun in the morning, were still +finishing up their regimental holiday. And so, not half an hour passed, when a +hundred soldiers burst into the Yamkas and began to wreck house after house. +They were joined by an innumerable mob that gathered on the run—men of the +golden squad[31], ragamuffins, tramps, crooks, souteneurs. The panes were +broken in all the houses, and the grand pianos smashed to smithereens. The +feather beds were ripped open and the down thrown out into the street; and yet +for a long while after—for some two days—the countless bits of down flew and +whirled over the Yamkas, like flakes of snow. The wenches, bare-headed, +perfectly naked, were driven out into the street. Three porters were beaten to +death. The rabble shattered, befouled, and rent into pieces all the silk and +plush furniture of Treppel. They also smashed up all the neighbouring taverns +and drink-shops, while they were at it. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[31] Zolotorotzi—a subtle euphemism for cleaners of cesspools and carters of +the wealth contained therein.—trans. +</p> + +<p> +The drunken, bloody, hideous slaughter continued for some three hours; until +the arrayed military authorities, together with the fire company, finally +succeeded in repulsing and scattering the infuriated mob. Two half-rouble +establishments were set on fire, but the fire was soon put out. However, on the +next day the tumult again flared up; this time already over the whole city and +its environs. Altogether unexpectedly it took on the character of a Jewish +pogrom, which lasted for three days, with all its horrors and miseries. +</p> + +<p> +And a week after followed the order of the governor-general about the immediate +shutting down of houses of prostitution, on the Yamkas as well as other streets +of the city. The proprietresses were given only a week’s time for the +settlement of matters in connection with their property. +</p> + +<p> +Annihilated, crushed, plundered; having lost all the glamour of their former +grandeur; ludicrous and pitiful, the aged, faded proprietresses and fat-faced, +hoarse housekeepers were hastily packing up their things. And a month after +only the name reminded one of merry Yamskaya Street; of the riotous, +scandalous, horrible Yamkas. +</p> + +<p> +However, even the name of the street was soon replaced by another, more +respectable one, in order to efface even the memory of the former unpardonable +times. +</p> + +<p> +And all these Henriettas-Horses, Fat Kitties, Lelkas-Polecats and other +women—always naive and foolish, often touching and amusing, in the majority of +cases deceived and perverted children,—spread through the big city, were +dissolved within it. Out of them was born a new stratum of society—a stratum of +the strolling, street prostitutes—solitaries. And about their life, just as +pitiful and incongruous, but tinged by other interests and customs, the author +of this novel—which he still dedicates to youths and mothers—will some time +tell. +</p> + +<p class="center"> +THE END +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YAMA (THE PIT) ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for +copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very +easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation +of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project +Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may +do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected +by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark +license, especially commercial redistribution. +</div> + +<div style='margin-top:1em; font-size:1.1em; text-align:center'>START: FULL LICENSE</div> +<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE</div> +<div style='text-align:center;font-size:0.9em'>PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full +Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at +www.gutenberg.org/license. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or +destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your +possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a +Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound +by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person +or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this +agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the +Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection +of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual +works in the collection are in the public domain in the United +States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the +United States and you are located in the United States, we do not +claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, +displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as +all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope +that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting +free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ +works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the +Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily +comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the +same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when +you share it without charge with others. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are +in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, +check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this +agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, +distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any +other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no +representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any +country other than the United States. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other +immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear +prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work +on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, +performed, viewed, copied or distributed: +</div> + +<blockquote> + <div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> + This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most + other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions + whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms + of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online + at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you + are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws + of the country where you are located before using this eBook. + </div> +</blockquote> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is +derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not +contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the +copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in +the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are +redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply +either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or +obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ +trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any +additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms +will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works +posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the +beginning of this work. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg™ License. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including +any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access +to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format +other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official +version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website +(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense +to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means +of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain +Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the +full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +provided that: +</div> + +<div style='margin-left:0.7em;'> + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed + to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has + agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid + within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are + legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty + payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project + Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in + Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg + Literary Archive Foundation.” + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ + License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all + copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue + all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ + works. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of + any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of + receipt of the work. + </div> + + <div style='text-indent:-0.7em'> + • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. + </div> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than +are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing +from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of +the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set +forth in Section 3 below. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project +Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may +contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate +or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or +other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or +cannot be read by your equipment. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium +with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you +with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in +lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person +or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second +opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If +the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing +without further opportunities to fix the problem. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO +OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of +damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement +violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the +agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or +limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or +unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the +remaining provisions. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in +accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the +production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ +electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, +including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of +the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this +or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or +additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any +Defect you cause. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of +computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It +exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations +from people in all walks of life. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future +generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see +Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by +U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, +Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up +to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website +and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread +public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND +DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state +visit <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/donate/">www.gutenberg.org/donate</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To +donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate +</div> + +<div style='display:block; font-size:1.1em; margin:1em 0; font-weight:bold'> +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project +Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be +freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and +distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of +volunteer support. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in +the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not +necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper +edition. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Most people start at our website which has the main PG search +facility: <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</div> + +</div> + +</body> + +</html> + |