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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1db6fbb --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60256 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60256) diff --git a/old/60256-0.txt b/old/60256-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9f4fa7c..0000000 --- a/old/60256-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5699 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Birds of Heaven and Other Stories, by -Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko - -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 -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Birds of Heaven and Other Stories - -Author: Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko - -Translator: Clarence Augustus Manning - -Release Date: September 7, 2019 [EBook #60256] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRDS OF HEAVEN AND OTHER STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - - BIRDS OF HEAVEN - _and Other Stories_ - - BY - VLADIMIR G. KOROLENKO - - _Translated from the Russian by_ - CLARENCE AUGUSTUS MANNING, Ph.D. - Lecturer in Slavonic Languages, - Columbia University - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - DUFFIELD & COMPANY - 1919 - - Copyright, 1919, by - DUFFIELD & COMPANY - - - - - TO - JOHN DYNELEY PRINCE, PH.D. - PROFESSOR OF SLAVONIC LANGUAGES - COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - BIRDS OF HEAVEN 3 - - ISN’T IT TERRIBLE? 73 - - “NECESSITY” 157 - - ON THE VOLGA 189 - - THE VILLAGE OF GOD 207 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -Of all of the more modern authors of Russia, perhaps none holds a higher -rank than Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko. He was born in 1853 in -Zhitomir, in the southern part of the Government of Volhynia. - -His works show an extensive knowledge of Russia, through which he -travelled very extensively (partly due to the fact that he was one -time banished for political reasons), and a very keen appreciation of -the beauties and moods of nature. Even more than this, however, he -appreciates very keenly the hardships and pleasures of the life of the -people and while depicting them realistically, he succeeds in casting -over even sordid and unpleasant scenes, a veil of poetic beauty and -of spiritual significance, which elevate his work above much of that -produced by his contemporaries. - -The stories in this volume date from the last part of the nineteenth -century, for the most part, and give a very good idea of the range and -variety of the themes handled by Korolenko and of the almost mystical -treatment which he sometimes employs and his works in this respect are, -if anything, more typically Russian than are those of his contemporaries -who strive for a brutal and often repulsive realism. - - - - -BIRDS OF HEAVEN - - - - -BIRDS OF HEAVEN - - -I - -That day the monastery was joyously greeting the ikon. For two months the -“Lady” had been traveling from place to place and now she was returning -home. - -First in their three-horse coaches came the priests who had accompanied -her and who were now bringing back to the monastery the treasure which -they had collected on their travels. They looked healthy, well-fed, and -satisfied. They were followed by the motley bands of pilgrims. These -came in greater and greater numbers out of the forest, until at last the -climax was reached with the gilded covering of the ikon flashing in the -sunlight above the heads of the marchers. - -Bells pealed forth; banners gleamed and waved; the singing of the choir -and the tramping of thousands of men, like an onrushing river, filled -the quiet neighborhood of the monastery with uproar and confusion. - -The place awoke. In the church hymns of thanksgiving were sung. On the -square merchants and market women called out their wares from under their -linen curtains; from the “institution” came the sounds of harmonicas and -cymbals; in the huts of the village one set of pilgrims kept replacing -another at the tables on which steamed enormous samovars. - -Towards evening a hard rain suddenly came up and drove the crowds and the -merchants from the bazaar. The square and the streets became quiet and no -sound was to be heard save the splashing of the huge drops in the puddles -and the flapping and blowing of the wet curtains, as they were tossed -by the storm wind. Yes, and in the church the harmonious singing still -continued and the yellow lights of the candles still flickered on. - -When the clouds suddenly lifted and streamed off to the east, carrying -with them the veil of mist which had hung over the fields and woods, the -sun reappeared in the west and with its parting rays it tenderly caressed -the windows of the village and the crosses of the monastery. But the -earlier bustle did not return to the square of the bazaar. The pilgrims -all had a quiet thirst for rest after their hard journey and the day -ended with the last notes of the concluding service in the church. Even -the cymbals behind the wall of the “institution” clashed weakly and dully. - -The service was ended. Within the church the candles burned out one after -the other. The pilgrims scattered. Little groups of men and women stood -at the door of the guest-house of the monastery, until the guest-master -should grant admission to those who desired lodging. A fat monk and two -lay brothers came out on the porch and began to divide the sheep from -the goats. The sheep entered the door; the goats were driven off and, -muttering, made their way to the gates. At the end of this operation, -there remained by the entrance a group of Mordvin women and a wanderer. -Apparently, their fate had already been decided by the guest-master who -reëntered the building. - -In a moment the lay brothers came out, counted the women and admitted -them to the women’s apartments. The older lay brother walked up to the -solitary stranger and said with a bow: - -“Forgive me, for Christ’s sake, Brother Varsonofy.... The guest-master -will not permit you to stay here.... Go in peace.” - -A sick smile passed over the face of the young wanderer and I was -surprised by its peculiar, dramatic, and significant character. The man’s -face was also worthy of notice: hump-nosed, thin, and with large, glowing -eyes. A pointed hat and a hardly noticeable, but pointed, beard gave -the man an unusual appearance. The whole dry figure dressed in an old -cassock, with a thin neck and a strong profile, attracted your attention, -even against your will. The impression which it produced was clear, -alarming and disturbing. - -When he heard the words of the lay brother, the stranger bowed and said: - -“God will save and for this....” - -As he turned to go, he suddenly staggered. He was clearly sick and -extremely tired. The good-hearted lay brother looked at him and hesitated. - -“Wait, Brother Varsonofy.... I will try again.” - -The stranger rested on his staff and waited expectantly. But in a moment -the brother again came out and, walking up with some embarrassment, said -with evident pity: - -“No, he won’t allow it.... Father Nifont told him that a stranger ... -like you ... speaks badly ... disturbs the people.” - -The stranger’s face showed how he felt. His eyes flashed, as if he were -about to speak, but he bowed and said: - -“Thank you, fathers....” - -And he wearily went from the door. - -The lay brother looked at me questioningly. I knew that he was about to -shut the gate and so I went to the outer court. This was already empty. -The young man who sold kalaches (cakes) for the monastery was behind his -stand, but no one came to it. - -The porter closed one gate behind me and then, pressing with his feet, -he started to close the second. Just then a scuffle was heard within the -gate, the tramping of several pairs of feet; the opening again widened -and in it appeared an ill-favored figure in a pilgrim’s costume, reddish -and faded. A rough, hairy hand held it by the collar and directed its -involuntary movements. A vigorous push.... The stranger flew off several -paces and fell. One wallet and then another sailed after him.... A -small book in a worn leather binding fell out in the mud and its leaves -commenced to blow in the wind. - -“Look here, ...” said a deep, bass voice behind the gate. “Don’t -quarrel....” - -“What’s the matter?” asked the porter. - -“Why, this,” answered the bass voice. “Because of him the guest-master -sinned ... turned a man away.... And he’s a good man. Oh! Oh!... a real -sin....” - -The speaker went away. The porter shut the gate, but not quite -completely; curiosity mastered him and his little eyes, his fat nose, and -his light mustache could be seen through the crack. He was following with -manifest interest the further actions of the rejected wanderer. - -The latter quickly rose, gathered up his wallets, put one on his back, -and threw the other over his shoulder. Then, picking up the book, he -carefully began to clean the mud off of it. Looking around the court, -he caught sight of me and of the kalach-seller. A group of peasants -were watching the little drama from the outer gates of the square. -Deliberately the stranger assumed an air of dignity, and, with the most -demonstrative devotion, he kissed the binding of the book and made a -sarcastic bow toward the inner gates. - -“I thank you, holy fathers. As ye have received the stranger and fed the -hungry....” - -Suddenly noticing in the crack of the gate the mustache and nose of the -porter, he said in a different tone: - -“What are you looking at? Did you recognize me?” - -“I thought ... yes ... I thought you were familiar,” said the porter. - -“Of course, of course!... We’re old friends! We ran off together to the -Mordvin women of Sviridov.... Do you remember now?” - -The porter spat loudly and angrily, closed the gate, and threw the bolt. -But his feet, with their rough boots, could still be seen beneath the -gate. - -“Don’t you remember Fenka, father?” - -The feet disappeared as if ashamed. - -The stranger straightened his muddy cloak and again looked around. -Attracted by the unusual conversation, some six peasants had strolled -towards the gate. They were the nearest neighbors to the monastery, Old -Believers from the villages in the vicinity, who had come to the bazaar -with an air of indifferent and even hostile curiosity. Despite its -influence at a distance, the monastery was surrounded by a ring of the -“most venomous” sectarians, as the monks expressed it. The inhabitants of -the region were positive that in the near future the monastery would be -threatened with the fate of Sodom and Gomorrah. But still it continued -and attracted thousands of people to its festivals. On such days the -figures of the Old Believers furnished a grim contrast to the rejoicing -multitudes and their faces reflected their hostility and disgust. Like -the Prophet Jonah, they murmured because the Lord delayed in inflicting -the promised doom upon the accursed Nineveh. - -They were now watching with malevolent curiosity the scene which was -being enacted at the door of the dishonorable habitation. - -“What’s the matter? They won’t let him in, I see, ...” one said jokingly. -“It’s crowded ... with Mordvin women....” - -The wanderer turned and threw a keen glance at the speaker. Suddenly his -face took on a humble expression and he walked back to the gate,—and -three times he crossed himself reverently and ostentatiously. - -The peasants looked at one another in surprise; the stranger had made the -sign of the cross not with three fingers, but in the old way with only -two. - -“The Lord, Who seest all things, will reward the monks according to their -mercy,” he said with a sigh. “We, brothers, will shake off the dust from -our feet, and listen here, in the temple not made with hands (he pointed -gracefully and calmly to the evening sky), to an instructive sermon on -repentance....” - -The peasants crowded together; their faces expressed their delighted and -also credulous surprise. The change was too unexpected.... The idea of -holding their own meeting on the alien festival and of listening at the -very gate of the monastery to a wandering preacher, who made the sign of -the cross in the old way, clearly pleased the adherents of the old faith. -The preacher took his stand at the base of the bell-tower. The wind -ruffled his dusty, light hair. - -It was hard to tell the man’s precise age, but he was clearly not old. -His face was heavily tanned and his hair and eyes seemed faded from the -action of sun and storm. - -At each movement of his head, however slight, the cords of his neck -stood out prominently and trembled. The man gave you, involuntarily, the -impression of something unfortunate, wonderfully self-controlled and, -perchance, evil. - -He began to read aloud. He read well, simply, and convincingly, and, -stopping now and then, he commented in his own way on what he had read. -Once he glanced at me, but he quickly shifted his eyes. I thought he did -not care for my presence. After that he turned more often to one of his -auditors. - -This was a broad-shouldered, undersized peasant, whose shape might -have been fashioned by two or three blows of an axe. In spite of the -squareness of his figure, he seemed very communicative. He paid the -utmost attention to every word of the preacher and added some remarks of -his own, which expressed his almost childish joy. - -“Oh, brothers ... my friends,” he said, looking around.... “It’s so true, -what he told us about repentance.... The end might come.... You know ... -and we’re such sinners ... just one little sin more and another. Yes, -yes....” - -“And that means another and another, ...” broke in a second. - -“Yes.... You see.... Oh!...” - -With delighted eyes, he looked around the gathering.... - -His noisy interruption and his joy apparently did not please the -preacher. The latter suddenly stopped, turned his head quickly, and the -cords of his neck tightened like ropes.... He wanted to say something, -but he checked himself and turned a page. - -The congregation had rejoiced too early. At the very time when they were -most highly exalted,—pride and excessive hope pressed hard on the ladder. -It trembled; the listeners seemed frightened; the ladder crashed down.... - -“He’s through!” were the sad words of the deep-voiced peasant. - -“Yes, brother!” chimed in the first. And a strange thing: he turned his -sparkling eyes on all and the same joy sounded in his voice.... “Now we -have no excuse.... We mustn’t do that first little sin.” - -The stranger closed his book and for a few seconds he watched the speaker -obstinately. But the peasant met his gaze with the same joy and trusting -good nature. - -“Do you think so?” asked the preacher. - -“Yes,” answered the man. “Judge yourself, my friend.... How long will He -suffer us?” - -“Do you think so?” the preacher asked again with some emphasis, and his -voice caused signs of uneasiness to appear on the other’s face. - -“You know there are limits to the long suffering of God. You know about -the Orthodox Catholic Church.” - -He turned a few pages and began to read about the spiritual power of the -Orthodox Church. The faces of his hearers darkened. The preacher stopped -and said: - -“The Orthodox Catholic Church.... Is she not the means of salvation? He -who seeks refuge in her need not despair. So ... if....” - -A tense silence prevailed for a few seconds. The stranger was facing the -crowd of peasants and he felt that he held their feelings in his hands. -Not long since, they had been following him joyfully and it was not hard -to foresee the results of the sermon: the men of the old faith had been -ready to invite to their homes the man who had been driven from the -monastery. Now they were dumbfounded and did not know what to think. - -“But if,” continued the stranger, accenting each word, “any one rejects -the one Mother Church ... expects to be saved in cellars with the rats -... if he trusts in shaved heads....” - -The peasant with the deep voice suddenly turned and walked away. - -His good-natured companion glanced around with an air of disillusionment -and a lack of comprehension and said half-questioningly: - -“Are you shocked?... Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!...” - -He followed the others. The sectarians grimly went to the gates. The -wanderer remained alone. His figure was outlined sharply against the base -of the tower and there was a strange expression in his faded blue eyes. -Evidently he had intended to gain by his sermon that lodging which the -monks had denied him. Why had he suddenly changed his tone?... - -There were now only three of us in the yard: the wanderer, I and the -young fellow under the curtain of the booth. The stranger glanced at me -but at once turned away and walked up to the dealer. The young man’s face -beamed with joy.... - -“That was clever,” he said. “You shocked them well. They all had their -heads shaved. The devils were threshing peas. Ha, ha, ha!” - -He broke out into a hearty, youthful laugh and started to put his wares -within the shop. - -When he had finished, he closed the swinging doors and locked them. The -shop was well made and adapted for moving,—it was on wheels and had a low -shelf. The fellow evidently intended to sleep by his wares. - -“Well, it’s time to go to bed,” he said, looking at the sky. - -In the yard and behind the gates all was still and deserted. From the -bazaar the wares had all been carried away. The fellow faced the church, -crossed himself, opened the door a little way and crawled under his stand. - -His hands soon appeared. He was trying to put a small screen over the -opening. - -The stranger also looked up at the sky, thought a few seconds, and walked -resolutely up to the shop. - -“Wait, Mikhailo! I’ll help you like a good fellow.” - -The pale-faced man let go and looked out of his quarters. - -“My name’s Anton,” he said simply. - -“Come, Antosha, let me help you.” - -“I’m very glad; thank you. It’s hard to do it from here.” - -Anton’s simple face disappeared. - -“Please ... move your feet a little.” - -Anton obeyed. The wanderer quietly opened the door, stooped quickly, -and, to my amazement, I saw him step nimbly into the opening. A scuffle -ensued. Anton moved his feet and part of the stranger appeared outside -for a moment, but without any delay and almost instantaneously he -disappeared again within. - -Interested by this unexpected turn of events, I almost instinctively -walked up to the booth. - -“I’ll yell, I’ll yell,” I heard the nasal but pitiful voice of Anton. -“The fathers will beat you up again!” - -“Don’t yell, Misha. What’s the matter?” argued the wanderer. - -“Why do you keep calling me Misha? I tell you my name’s Anton.” - -“In the monastic jargon your name will be Mikhailo. Remember that.... -Hush! Quiet, Anton, keep still.” - -The booth became silent. - -“What for?” asked Anton. “What do you hear?” - -“Listen, hear the tapping.... It’s raining.” - -“Well, what of it? Tapping.... If I let out one shout, the fathers will -tap harder on you.” - -“Why do you keep harping on one thing? I’ll yell and yell. You’d better -not. If you do, I’ll eat you up. I’ll tell you a good story about a -nun....” - -“I see, you’ve been stealing something.” - -“It’s wrong, Antosha, for you to slander a stranger. You gave me this one -kalach yourself. I ate nothing—you believe God....” - -“Go ahead and eat a stale one.... I haven’t eaten them up,” and Anton -yawned so hard that he gave up all thoughts of further resistance. - -“You shocked those blockheads well,” he added at the end of his strenuous -yawn. “You’ve certainly showed them up.” - -“And the fathers?” - -“The fathers wanted to spit at you.... You promised to tell me a story. -Why don’t you do it?” - -“In a certain country, in a certain land,” began the stranger, “in a -convent with a stone wall, lived a nun, brother Antoshenka.... And such a -nun.... Oh, oh, oh!” - -“Yes?...” - -“Yes, she lived there, and grieved.” - -Silence. - -“Well?... Go on.” - -Silence again. - -“Well, go on. What did she grieve about?” insisted the interested Anton. - -“Go to the devil, that’s what! Why did I start a story? You know I hoofed -it thirty versts to-day. She grieved about you, you fool, that’s what she -did. Let me sleep!” - -Anton let out a sound of utter exhaustion. - -“Well, you’re a rogue. I see your scheme,” he said reproachfully. - -“All right, knave,” a minute later but more softly, and even sorrowfully. -“Yes, a knave.... I never saw such a knave before.” - -All was quiet in the booth. The rain beat harder and harder on the -slanting roof, the earth grew black, the puddles disappeared in the -darkness. The monastery garden whispered something, and the buildings -behind the wall stood defenceless against the rain, which pattered on the -gutters. The guard within the enclosure beat upon his wet rattle. - - -II - -The next day I started back with Andrey Ivanovich, who had accompanied -me on many of my wanderings. We had been walking not without having -interesting experiences, lodged in the village, and started off again -rather late. The pilgrims had already left and it was hard to imagine -the crowds which had passed by such a little while before. The villages -seemed busy; the workmen could be seen as white spots on the fields. The -air was muggy and hot. - -My companion, a tall, thin, nervous man, was this day especially gloomy -and irritable. This was a not at all uncommon state towards the end of -our joint trips. But this day he was unusually out of humor and expressed -his personal disapproval of me. - -Towards afternoon, in the heat, we became completely disgusted with each -other. Andrey Ivanovich either thought it necessary to rest without any -reason in the most inappropriate places, or wished to push on, when I -proposed stopping. - -We finally reached a little bridge. A small stream was flowing quietly -between the damp green banks with their nodding heads of grass. The -stream wound along and disappeared behind a bend amid the waving grain of -the meadows. - -“Let’s rest,” I said. - -“We’ve got to be getting on,” answered Andrey Ivanovich. - -I sat down on the railing and began to smoke. The tall figure of Andrey -Ivanovich went on, ascended a hill and disappeared. - -I bent over the water and began to meditate. I thought I was absolutely -alone, but I suddenly felt that some one was looking at me and then on a -hill under some birch trees, I saw two men. One had a small and almost -childish face. He at once hid from shame in the grass behind the crest of -the hill. The other was the preacher of the preceding evening. As he lay -on the grass, he quietly turned his bold, gray eyes upon me. - -“Come, join us, we’ll have more fun together,” he said simply. - -I got up and to my surprise I saw the feet of Andrey Ivanovich sticking -out of the grass by the road; he was sitting nearby in the boundary -strip, and his cigar smoke was rising above the tops of the grass. I -pretended not to see him and walked up to the strangers. - -The one whom I had taken for a child proved to be a young, sickly -creature in a striped cassock, with thin hair around his narrow, sallow -face and a nose like a bird’s beak. He kept straightening his cassock, -was uneasy, kept moving around and was clearly ashamed of his condition. - -“Sit down and be our guest,” the preacher suggested with a slight -gesture. Just then the tall figure of Andrey Ivanovich rose like the -shade of Banquo above the grain. - -“Let’s be going!” he said in a not very kind tone of voice, as he threw -away the butt of his cigar. - -“I’ll stay here,” I answered. - -“I see you like those parasites better....” And Andrey Ivanovich glanced -at me sorrowfully, as if he wished to impress upon me the impropriety of -my choice. - -“Yes, there’s more fun here,” I answered. - -“I’m through with you. I hope you remain in good company.” - -He pulled his cap down over his face and started off with long strides, -but he soon stopped, came back, and said angrily: - -“Don’t ask me again! You rascal, I’ll never go with you again. Don’t you -dare to ask me! I refuse.” - -“It’s my business whether I ask you or not.... Yours is to go or not.” - -“A serious-minded gentleman!” The wanderer nodded after him as he started -off. - -“He doesn’t approve of us,” the little man said in a voice that was -between a sigh and a squeak. - -“What do we care whether he does or not?” remarked the preacher -indifferently. Then he turned to me: - -“Haven’t you a cigarette, sir?... Please.” - -I held out my case to him. He took out two cigarettes, lighted one and -placed the other beside him. His small companion interpreted this in a -favorable way and rather irresolutely reached for the free cigarette. But -the preacher, with perfect composure, took the cigarette out of his hands -and placed it on the other side. The little fellow was embarrassed, again -squeaked from shame and straightened his robes. - -I gave him a cigarette. This embarrassed him still more,—his thin, -transparent fingers trembled; he smiled sadly and bashfully. - -“I don’t know how to beg,” he said in shame. “Avtonomov orders and -orders.... But I can’t.” - -“Who’s this Avtonomov?” I asked. - -“That’s me,—Gennady Avtonomov,” said the preacher with a stern glance at -his small companion, who quailed under the glance and dropped his sallow -face. His thin hair fell and rose. - -“Are you walking for your health, or why?” Avtonomov asked me. - -“Because I want to.... Where are you going?” - -He looked into the distance and answered: - -“To Paris or nearer, to Italy or further....” And, noticing that I did -not understand, he added: - -“I was joking.... I am wandering aimlessly wherever it suits me. For -eleven years——” - -He spoke with a faint touch of sadness. Then he quietly exhaled some -tobacco smoke and watched the blue clouds melt away in the air. His face -had a new expression, a quality I had never noticed before. - -“A wasted life, signor! A ruined existence, which deserved a better lot.” - -The sadness disappeared and he concluded grandiloquently, with a flourish -of his cigarette: - -“Yet, good sir, the wanderer will never be willing to exchange his -liberty for luxurious palaces.” - -Just then a bold little bird flew over our heads like a clod of earth -thrown up into the air, perched on the lowest branch of the birch, and -began to twitter without paying any attention to our presence. The face -of the little wanderer brightened and was suffused with a ludicrous -kindness. He kept time with his thin lips and, at the successful -completion of any tune, he looked at us with triumphant, smiling, and -weeping eyes. - -“O God!” he said finally, when the bird flew away at the end of its song. -“A creature of God. It sang as much as it needed to, it praised Him, and -flew off on its own business. O darling!... Yes, by heaven, that’s right.” - -He looked at us joyfully, and then became embarrassed, stopped talking, -and straightened his cassock, but Avtonomov waved his hand and added like -a teacher: - -“Behold the birds of heaven. We, signor, are the same kind of birds. We -sow not, neither do we reap, nor gather into barns....” - -“You studied in the seminary?” I asked. - -“Yes. I could tell a lot about that; only there’s little worth hearing. -But, as you see, the horizon is being covered with clouds. Up, Ivan -Ivanovich; rise, comrade, rise. The portion of the wanderer is -journeying, not resting. Let us wish you every sort of blessing.” - -He nodded and started rapidly along the road. He took free, even strides, -leaning on a long staff and thrusting it back with every step. The -wind blew out the skirts of his cassock, he bent forward under his -wallet, and his wedge-shaped beard projected in front. It seemed as if -this sun-burned, dried, and faded figure had been created for the poor -Russian plain with the dark villages in the distance and the clouds which -thoughtfully gathered in the sky. - -“A scholar!” Ivan Ivanovich shook his head sadly as he tied up his wallet -with trembling hands. “A most learned man! But he falls to nothing just -as I. On the same plane ... we wander together. God forgive us, the -last....” - -“Why?” - -“Why? How? The modern wanderer has a good wallet, a cassock or kaftan, -boots, for example,—in a word, equipment for every circumstance, so -to speak. And we! You see yourself. I’m coming, I’m coming, Gennady -Sergeich, I’m coming. Right away!” - -The little fellow soon overtook his companion. Thinking that they had -reasons for not inviting me to accompany them, I kept sitting on the -hill, and watching a heavy, dark cloud rise from behind the woods and -spread quietly, sadly, imperceptibly, almost stealthily over the sky, and -then I went on alone, regretting the controversy with Andrey Ivanovich. - -It was quiet and sad. The grain waved and rustled drily. In the -distance, behind the woods, growled the thunder and at times a large drop -of rain fell. - -It was an empty threat. Towards evening I came to the village of K. and -it had not rained yet, but the cloud was advancing quietly and spreading -out; it grew dark and the thunder sounded nearer and nearer. - - -III - -To my surprise, on the bank of earth around one of the first huts of -the village, I saw Andrey Ivanovich, with his long legs reaching almost -to the very middle of the street. As I approached, he looked utterly -unconcerned. - -“What are you doing, Andrey Ivanovich?” - -“Drinking tea. Did you think I was waiting for you? Don’t flatter -yourself. When the cloud passes, I’m going on.” - -“Fine.” - -“And your adored——” - -“Who?” - -“Those wanderers, people of God.... Please see what they’re doing in that -hut! Go, look: it’s nothing; don’t be ashamed....” - -I walked up to the window. The hut was full. The peasants of the village -were all away on business and so there were only women present. A few -young women and girls were still running back and forth past me. The -windows were open and illuminated, and I could hear within the even voice -of Avtonomov. He was teaching the dissenters. - -“Come, join us,” I suddenly heard the low voice of Ivan Ivanovich. He was -standing in a dark corner near the gate. - -“What are you doing?” - -“Fooling the people. That’s what they’re doing,” interrupted Andrey -Ivanovich. - -The little wanderer coughed, and, squinting at Andrey Ivanovich, he said: - -“What can we do, sir?” - -He bent toward me and whispered: - -“The old dissenters think Gennady Sergeich is a runaway priest. It’s -dark. What can we do? We may not get anything. And, besides, there’s -nothing else to do. Won’t you come in?” - -“Let’s go in, Andrey Ivanovich.” - -“What I haven’t seen there?” he answered, turning away. “Go,—kiss them. I -think enough of myself not to do this, for I wear a cross.” - -“So do we,” Ivan Ivanovich spoke with a mild tone of reproach. - -Andrey Ivanovich whistled suspiciously, and then, with a serious look on -his face, he called to me: - -“Do you know this disreputable crowd?” - -With an enigmatic glance at me, he added in a lower tone: - -“Did you understand?” - -“No, I didn’t. Good-bye. If you want to, wait for me.” - -“We’ve nothing to wait for. Some people don’t understand....” - -I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence, because I went into the hut with -Ivan Ivanovich. - -Our entrance caused some excitement. The preacher noticed me and stopped. - -“Oh! We thank you,” he said, pushing the women aside. “Please. Won’t -you have a little cup of tea? Here’s the samovar, even though it’s a -dissenting village.” - -“Did I disturb you?” - -“What nonsense. Woman, bring the samovar! Quick!” - -“Do you use that weed, too?” asked a young woman with a full bosom and -bashful, coal-black eyes, who was standing in the front. - -“If the gentleman will permit,—it will give me pleasure, ... and I’ll -drink another....” - -“If you please,” I said. - -“Please give me a cigarette.” - -I gave it to him. He lighted it and looked laughingly at the surprised -women. A murmur of dissatisfaction ran through the hut. - -“Do you suck that?” asked the young woman spitefully. - -“Of course.... According to the Scriptures, it is permitted.” - -“In what part?—teach us, please.” - -He smoked on and then he threw the cigarette over the heads of the women -into a basin of water. - -“He’s thrown it away,” said the hostess, fussing around the samovar. - -“Don’t throw it away, fool; you’ll set the place on fire,” interrupted -another. - -“Afire? If the well won’t stop that, you’d better put out the fire in the -kitchen.” - -“What are you thinking of? Everything is done nowadays. Even the priests -smoke.” - -“Of course, of course. You’ve a voice like a bell. You ought to be in a -convent choir. Come with me.” - -He reached for her. She cleverly turned aside, bending her beautiful -form, while the other women, laughing and spitting, ran out of the hut. - -“W-what a priest,” said a thin woman with childishly open eyes. She was -in evident terror. “T-teacher!” - -“Yes, he’ll teach us.” - -“Teach us,” laughed a soldier’s wife, coming forward and resting her -cheek on her fat hand. “Teach us something easy and sweet.” - -“Yes! We’ll sigh for you.” - -“I’ll teach you. What is your name, beauty?” - -“I’m called what I’m called and nicknamed Gray Duck. What do you want?” - -“You, Gray Duck. Give us some vodka,—heavens, they’ll pay up.” - -“Get what? We’ll get it.” - -She looked at me questioningly and cunningly. - -“Please, a little,” I said. - -The soldier’s wife hurried from the hut. Laughing and pushing, two or -three women ran out after her. The hostess looked displeased but she put -the samovar on the table and without a word she sat down on the bench and -commenced to work. The children watched us curiously from their plank -beds. - -Laughing and panting, the soldier’s wife put on the table a bottle -of some sort of greenish liquid. Then she walked away from the table -and looked at us laughingly and boldly. Ivan Ivanovich coughed from -embarrassment and the temporary widows still in the hut gazed at us in -secret expectation. After the first cups, the preacher of the evening -lifted the skirts of his cassock and stamped around the Gray Duck, who -avoided his caresses. - -“Go away!” She waved her hand, and, with a provokingly challenging glance -at me, she walked up to the table. - -“Why don’t you drink? Look at them,—they’ll finish it, I bet. Go ahead -and drink.” - -Smiling and shrugging her shoulders, she filled a glass and brought it to -me. - -“Don’t drink!” These words, in an unexpectedly venomous tone, came -through the window, and out of the darkness appeared the bony face of -Andrey Ivanovich. - -“Don’t drink the vodka, I tell you!” he repeated, still more sternly, and -again disappeared in the darkness. - -The soldier’s wife let the glass tremble and spill. Thoroughly frightened -she looked out of the window. - -“May the power of the cross help us,—what was that?” - -Everyone felt ill at ease. The vodka was exhausted and the question was -whether to get more and continue, or to end now. Ivan Ivanovich looked -at me in timid sorrow, but I had not the slightest desire to continue -this feast. Avtonomov suddenly understood this. - -“Really,—it’s time to be going,” he said, walking towards the window. - -“But it’s raining outdoors,” said the soldier’s wife, glancing to one -side. - -“No. The clouds are all right; ... they look dry.... Get ready, Ivan -Ivanovich.” - -We began to get ready. Ivan Ivanovich went out first. When I followed him -into the dark, closed yard, he took my hand and said in a low tone: - -“There’s that long-legged fellow waiting by the gate.” - -In very truth I made out Andrey Ivanovich by the entrance. Avtonomov, -with his wallet and staff, came out on the porch, holding the soldier’s -wife by the hand. Both figures could be seen in the lighted doorway. The -soldier’s wife did not withdraw her hand. - -“Are you going to leave us?” she said in despair. “We thought—you’d -carouse around here.” - -“Wait, I’ll be back,—I’ll get rich.” - -She looked at him and shook her head. - -“Where? You’ll never get rich. You’ll get along, empty....” - -“Don’t caw, you crow.... Tell me this: does Irina’s clerk still live by -the cemetery?” - -“Stchurovskaya? Yes. He just went to the bazaar. What do you want?” - -“This. Let’s see.... He had a daughter, Grunyushka.” - -“She’s married.” - -“Nearby?” - -“To a deacon in the village of Voskresenskoye. The old woman’s there -alone.” - -“You say Irina’s husband hasn’t come back?” - -“He hasn’t been seen.” - -“Is he rich?” - -“No, he lives like everyone else.” - -“Good-bye!... Glasha-a!” - -“Now, now! Don’t call.... You know Glasha is good and not yours. Go -along. There’s nothing to hang around for.” - -Kindly pity could be heard in the voice of the village beauty. - -Outside the dark figure of Andrey Ivanovich left the gate and hurried -towards us, while at the same time Avtonomov overtook us and silently -went ahead of us. - -“You should have stayed till morning,” remarked Andrey Ivanovich grimly. -“I could have waited here!” - -“That’s foolish,” I answered coldly. - -“How so? Why?” - -“Why?—you could have gone on if you didn’t like it.” - -“No, thanks for your kindness, I’m not willing to leave a companion.... -I’d rather suffer myself than leave him.... We’ve been together three -years, Ivan Anisimovich. Trifles don’t count, I’ve drunk so often in good -company....” - -“Yes?” - -“They took off my vest; three rubles twenty.... A new pocket book....” - -“If you’re blaming Gennady and me for this,” began Ivan Ivanovich, -hurriedly and excitedly, “that’s so mean. Why?... If you have any doubts, -we can go ahead or stay behind....” - -“Please don’t pay any attention,” I said, wishing to quiet the poor -fellow. - -“What’s the matter?” asked Avtonomov, stopping. “What are you talking -about?” - -“They’re so suspicious. Lord, have mercy upon us! Are we really robbers, -the Lord forgive the word?” - -Gennady gazed in the darkness into the face of Andrey Ivanovich. - -“Oh, the lanky gentleman!... I see!” he said drily. “The man who never -trusts has pleasure, if all he judges by his measure.’ ... The road is -broad....” - -He again walked forward quickly and his timid little companion ran after -him. Andrey Ivanovich waited for several seconds. He was surprised that -the stranger had answered in rhythm. He almost started after him, but I -caught his hand. - -“What’s the matter with you?” I said angrily. - -“You’re sorry for your good companions?” he said spitefully. “Please, -don’t be uneasy. They won’t go far....” - -In very truth we caught sight of a black figure near the last houses. It -was Ivan Ivanovich, alone. - -He was standing in the road, panting and coughing and holding on to his -breast. - -“What’s the matter?” I asked sympathetically. - -“Oh, oh! My death!... He went off.... Gennady.... He ordered me not to go -with him.... To go with you. I can’t catch him.” - -“That’s all right. Do you know the road?” - -“It’s the broad road. He hurried on some place or other.” - -“Fine.” - -We walked along in the darkness.... A dog barked behind us; I looked -around and saw in the darkness two or three lights in the village, but -they soon disappeared. - - -IV - -It was a quiet, starless night. The horizon could still be traced as an -indistinct line beneath the clouds, but still lower hung a thick mist, -endless, shapeless, without form or details. - -We walked on quite a while in silence. The wanderer panted timidly and -tried to smother his cough. - -“I don’t see Avtonomov,” he kept saying, and he gazed helplessly in the -blackness of the night. - -“We can’t see him.... But he sees us, by heavens,” said Andrey Ivanovich, -spitefully and ominously. - -The road seemed to be a confused streak, like a bridge across an -abyss.... Everything around was black and indistinct. Was there or was -there not a light streak on the horizon? There was not a trace of it now. -Was it so short a time, since we were in that noisy hut with the laughter -and conversation?... Will there be any end to this night, to this field? -Were we moving ahead or was the road like an endless ribbon slipping by -under our feet while we remained treading in the same spot, in the same -enchanted patch of darkness? An involuntary, timid joy sprang up in my -soul when an unseen brook began to babble ahead of us, when this murmur -increased and then died away behind us, or when a sudden breath of wind -stirred the scarcely visible clumps of willows beside the road and then -died away, a sign that we had passed them.... - -“It’s night now all right,” said Andrey Ivanovich quietly, and this was -very unusual for him. “A man’s a fool to walk the roads a night like -this. And what are we after, I’d like to know. We worked during the day, -rested, drank our tea, prayed—for sleep. No, I don’t like it—and then we -started along the roads. It’s better for us. Here it’s midnight and we -haven’t crossed ourselves yet. We certainly pray!...” - -I made no answer. Thoughts of repentance seemed still to be running -through the head of Andrey Ivanovich. - -“Women can teach us a little,” he said sternly. “We don’t stay at home. -What do we want?...” - -“Why, I can’t see Avtonomov,” interrupted the plaintive voice of the -young wanderer. - -“Neither can I,” grunted Andrey Ivanovich. - -“What a misfortune!” said the young wanderer sorrowfully. “I’ve been -abandoned by my protector....” - -His voice was so filled with despair that we both looked ahead -involuntarily in search of the lost Avtonomov. Suddenly, rather to one -side, we heard a dull sound as if some one had stepped upon an old bridge. - -“There he is!” said Andrey Ivanovich. “He went to the left.” - -“The road must have turned.” - -In truth the road soon forked. We also turned to the left. Ivan Ivanovich -sighed from relief. - -“What are you grieving so over?” asked Andrey Ivanovich. “Is he your -brother or who is he? He’s a freak, begging your pardon.” - -“He’s closer than a brother. I’d be lost without him; I can’t beg myself. -And in our condition not to—is absolute ruin....” - -“Why do you wander around?” - -The stranger was silent as if it were hard for him to answer this -question. - -“I’m looking for a shelter. In some monastery.... Since my youth I have -been destined for the monastic life.” - -“You should live in a monastery.” - -“I have a weakness,” said Ivan Ivanovich, almost inaudibly and bashfully. - -“You like drink.” - -“Yes, that’s it. I was spoiled as a child.” - -“Too bad!... The devil’s to blame for it.” - -“Yes, the devil.... Of course.... Formerly, when the people were serfs, -_he_ had a lot of work: he wrestled with the monotonous life, we’ll -say.... They all saw him.... And, just think, they struggled just the -same.... Now it’s our weakness.... The people are all inclined to it.” - -“Y-yes,” assented Andrey Ivanovich. “It’s much easier now for the -impure.... He lives with us, by heavens. Lie, dear, on the stove.... -We’ll come to see you and bring one another.... Only entertain us.” - -The stranger heaved a deep sigh. - -“That is the truth!” he said sadly. “I’ll tell you about myself,” he -whispered, as if he did not wish his words to be heard by any one in the -blackness along the road. “Do you know who ruined me? My own mother and -my father superior!” - -“Wh-what?” queried Andrey Ivanovich, also in a low tone. - -“Yes!... I know it’s sinful to blame my dead mother,—may she rest -in peace!” He took off his hat and crossed himself. “And yet I keep -thinking: if she had had me taught a trade, I might have been a man like -the others.... No, she wanted her child to have an easy life, the Lord -forgive her....” - -“Go on, go on!” urged Andrey Ivanovich. - -“You know,” continued Ivan Ivanovich sadly, “in old times, as the books -say, parents always objected and children went secretly to the monastic -cell to devote themselves.... But my mother took me herself to the -monastery; she wanted me to become a clerk.” - -“Yes, yes!” - -“And before that, I must tell you, they used to make them psalmists and -so on, ... but they had changed by my time!” - -“That’s the rank!” - -“Yes!... And mother again! stay there in the monastery.... That’s an -easy life. And the superior loves you.... That’s the truth: the father -superior did love me and took me as a novice under his own charge. But if -a man is doomed, fortune will become misfortune. I’ll tell you the truth: -I fell because of an angel ... not because of the devil....” - -“What are you telling us?” said Andrey Ivanovich in surprise. - -“Just the truth.... Our superior was a wonderfully kind soul, not evil, -and strict.... But he had a secret weakness; at times he’d drink. -Quietly, nobly. He’d shut himself up and drink for three or four days. No -more than that. Then he’d all at once stop it.... He was a strong man.... -But once, in that condition, he got bored. And he called me and said: -‘Dear boy, mortify yourself. Vanya, obey me and do something you don’t -want to. An innocent boy, stay with me, a hardened sinner.’ Well, I did -it, and sat and listened how he talked with some one and wept over that -weakness of his.... I wasn’t strong, and when I got tired I fell asleep. -He said: ‘Vanya, take a drop to brace you up.’ And I drank a glass of -brandy.... ‘But swear to me,’ he said, ‘that you’ll never drink a drop -alone without me.’” - -“So that’s it,” drawled Andrey Ivanovich meaningly. - -“Of course I swore. And he gave me another glass.... And so it went. At -first a little, then—— The father superior was a strong man. No matter -how much he drank, he was still steady. But, you know, after three or -four glasses, my feet went.... He remembered himself and forbade me -solemnly. It was too late. I didn’t drink with him and I had the keys to -the chest.... I began to take a nip secretly.... Another and a larger -one.... A second time I couldn’t walk. He thought at first that it was -from that first drunkenness, because of my weakness. Then he looked at -me steadily and said: ‘Vanyushka, do you want a glass?’ I trembled all -over from my longing for it. He guessed the truth. He took his staff, -caught it in my hair, and reasoned with me.... He was strong and afraid -of hurting me.... It did no good. Again and again.... He saw that his -weakness was ruining me. He said to me: ‘Forgive me, Vanyushka, but you -must pass through temptation or you’ll be ruined.... Go and wander.... -When you meet sorrow you can be healed. I will pray for you. Come back -in a year,’ he said, ‘on this same date. I will receive you like the -prodigal son.’ He blessed me. Began to weep. Called the rufalny, that -is, the monk who had charge of the habits, and ordered him to get me -ready to wander.... He himself said the prayers for a brother who is -going on a journey.... And forth I went, the servant of the Lord, on the -twenty-ninth of August, the day of the Beheading of St. John Baptist, for -a period of wandering....” - -The narrator again stopped, drew his breath, and coughed. Andrey -Ivanovich sympathetically stopped walking and the three of us stood in -the dark road. Finally Ivan Ivanovich was rested and we started on -again.... - -“So I traveled summer and winter. It was hard work and I had many -sorrows. Yes! I went to various monasteries. Some places I didn’t get -into the courtyard,—others I didn’t like. Our monastery was supported -by the state and rich and I’d gotten accustomed to an easy life. And I -couldn’t get into another state monastery, but they took me into one -where all the monks lived together, that of St. Cyril of Novoye Ozero, -and it was awful: we got little tea and not a bit of tobacco; the monks -were all peasants.... A hard rule and a lot of work....” - -“I bet you didn’t like that after your easy life,” said Andrey Ivanovich. - -“To tell the truth, I wasn’t strong enough,” sighed Ivan Ivanovich -humbly. “The burden was too great.... And sanctity looked unpleasant in -that garb. There was no splendor.... A lot of people and no choir.... -They did make an awful noise....” - -“That’s sanctity!” said Andrey Ivanovich with conviction. - -“No, let me tell you,” answered Ivan Ivanovich no less emphatically.... -“You’re wrong.... That doesn’t determine the kind of monastery. A monk -must be trained and have a head like a blade of grass ... and hold -himself up.... That makes a fine monk and there’s mighty few of them. And -the simple monk is smooth and clean with a velvety voice. Benefactors and -women go wild over them. But a peasant, let me tell you, is no account -even there....” - -“All right.... What next?” said Andrey Ivanovich, a little surprised at -the decided opinion of the expert. - -“What next?” answered the wanderer sadly. “I wandered for a year. I -fasted and wandered.... The worst was that my conscience bothered me; -I didn’t know how to beg. I waited and waited for that year to end,—to -go home, home, to my poor cell. I thought of the father superior as -if he were my own father; I loved him so. Finally August twenty-ninth -came. I went into the courtyard, you know, and somehow I felt badly. Our -attendants came to the gate.... They knew me. ‘Wanderer Ivan, have you -returned?’ ‘I have,’ was my reply. ‘Is my benefactor alive?’ ‘Too late,’ -was the answer. ‘He was buried some time ago. He was deemed worthy; he -went away with the collect of the Resurrection. He remembered you ... and -wept.... He wanted to reward you.... We’ve got a new superior, ... a -barbarian. Don’t let him see you?’ But,” he added, plaintively, “I can’t -see Avtonomov.” - -His voice betrayed his terror and sorrow. - - -V - -Andrey Ivanovich stared into the darkness and suddenly he caught hold of -my hand, exclaiming: - -“Stop! We shouldn’t have come.” - -“What’s the matter?” - -“I told the truth. Don’t chase on after them! Wait for me.... I’ll run -and see....” - -He quickly disappeared in the darkness. I stayed with Ivan Ivanovich in -the road. When the steps of the bootmaker died away, we heard merely the -quiet noises of the night. The grass rustled gently; at times a rail -whistled as it ran nervously from place to place. In the vague distance -the frogs were croaking dreamily and playing in the swamp. Hardly visible -clouds were rising. - -“That’s just like him.... My comrade loves to walk at night,” complained -Ivan Ivanovich. “What’s the use of it? Why not by day?” - -“Was he in a monastery too?” - -“Yes,” answered Ivan Ivanovich. Then, with a sigh, “He’s from a good -family. His father was a deacon in the city of N. You may have heard -of him.... His brother is a secretary in a police office. He was -betrothed....” - -“Why didn’t he marry?” - -“Don’t you see, he’d already gone wrong.... He ran away ... but he wasn’t -a wanderer yet. He had the outfit but he didn’t wander.... He passed as -a suitor. He was accepted. The girl loved him, and her father didn’t -object.... Oh!... Oh!... Of course, it was sinful, ... he deceived them. -Sometimes, when he tells about it, you’ll cry, and then again it’s really -funny.” - -Ivan Ivanovich acted strangely. He laughed and then began to choke and -put his hand over his mouth. At first you could hardly tell he was -laughing. But he really was,—an hysterical, bashful, rather explosive -laugh, which ended like a cough. When he quieted down, Ivan Ivanovich -said, half-pityingly: - -“Only he tells it different every time.... You can’t tell whether it’s -the truth or not.” - -“He wouldn’t lie?” - -“Not exactly, ... but he’s not always accurate. You see, the truth——” - -“Just what does he say?” - -“You know, the clerk, he says, was clever. He saw the young man wasting -his time, really doing nothing. He pretended to go to a bazaar,—so he -went to the city, left the old woman in the house, and gave her strict -orders to keep an eye on him. Avtonomov, you see, didn’t live with them, -but in the village with the woman who baked the bread for the church.... -He kept visiting them.... Every day.... They’d sit by the river bank.... -And the old woman was there, too. And, of course, she watched them.... -One time, my dear little Avtonomov saw two men coming from the city in -a cart—and both drunk. They came up and turned out to be the clerk and -his older brother, the secretary. He hadn’t even looked around—when they -landed on him and licked him. The reason why: his brother, because he ran -away from the seminary; the clerk, for deceiving and disgracing him....” - -Ivan Ivanovich sighed. - -“He hardly got off alive, he says.... They were both angry and drunk.... -He ran to the house where he was living, grabbed his wallet, and off into -the woods.... Since then, he says, he’s been wandering.... But, another -time, he really ... tells something else.” - -He came nearer to me and wanted to tell me something very confidentially. -But suddenly out of the darkness near us came the figure of Andrey -Ivanovich. He walked rapidly with a deliberately menacing scowl. - -“Come here, if you please.” He took me aside and whispered: - -“You and I are in a nice mess!” - -“How?” - -“This Avtonomov, the monk, seems to have gone off to steal.... We’ll get -into trouble over him yet....” - -“That’s enough, Andrey Ivanovich.” - -“Yes, for you. Did you hear what he asked in the village? Of the -soldier’s wife? About a certain clerk? Is the clerk actually at home or -not?” - -“Yes, I remember.” - -“Do you remember where that clerk lived?” - -“Yes, by a cemetery.” - -“There it is!” said Andrey Ivanovich maliciously, pointing ahead in the -darkness. - -“What of it?” - -“Just this.... The old woman, you heard, is alone.... And he went -right there.... He walked around the yard and looked. You’ll see for -yourself.... That’s the sort of a fellow you wanted to drop an old -companion for.... If he’d crossed the bridge without a board creaking, -we’d have gone straight along the road.... I turned aside.... Let’s go -ahead quietly.” - -Behind us some one coughed plaintively. Andrey Ivanovich looked around -and said: - -“Come with us, novice.... What can we do with you? You love your comrade.” - -We crossed the bridge, followed the road and came to the cemetery. On the -hill a little light shone through the trees. I saw the whitish walls of -a small house, perched on the edge of a hill, and behind it was the dark -outline of a bell-tower. Below on the right it was easier to imagine than -to see the little stream. - -“There he is,” said Andrey Ivanovich. “Do you see him?” - -Not far from us, between the wall and the slope, near an arbor covered -with foliage, was a figure. A man seemed to be crowded against and -fastened to the fence and looking through the bushes. By the light of the -window, I saw the pointed cap, the long neck, and the familiar profile of -Avtonomov. The light streamed out through the trees and lilac blossoms. -When I went nearer, I saw in the window the head of an old woman in a -cap and with horn spectacles. Her head nodded like that of a man who is -working when he is terribly sleepy, and the needles moved rapidly in her -hands. The old woman was evidently waiting for her husband to return. - -Suddenly she listened.... An irresolute call came out of the darkness: - -“Olimpiada Nikolayevna!” - -The old woman looked out of the window but saw no one. - -A moment of silence, and then the same call was repeated: - -“Olimpiada Nikolayevna!” - -I did not recognize Avtonomov’s voice. It seemed soft and timid. - -“Who’s there?” The old woman suddenly started. “Who called me?” - -“It’s I.... Don’t you remember Avtonomov?... We used to know each -other....” - -“Avtonomov, mercy.... We never knew any one of that name.... I don’t know -you.... Wait a moment and I’ll call some one. Fedosya, oh, Fedosya!... -Come here quick....” - -“Don’t call, mother.... I won’t disturb you.... Have you really forgotten -Avtonomov?... I used to be called Genasha....” - -The old woman got up, took the candle and held it out of the window. -There was no breeze. The flame burned steadily and illuminated the -bushes, the walls of the house, and the wrinkled face of the old woman -with her glasses pressed up on her forehead. - -“That voice sounded familiar.... Where are you?... If you’re a good man——” - -She held the candle above her head and the light fell on Avtonomov. The -old woman staggered, but just then another woman entered the room. The -old woman grew bolder and again threw the light on Avtonomov. - -“Fine,” she said coldly. “The suitor, of course.... What are you walking -around under the window for?...” - -“I happened to be passing, Olimpiada Nikolayevna——” - -“Passing, and would pass.... See here, when the master returns, he’ll set -the dogs on you.” - -She closed the window and lowered the curtain. The bushes disappeared, -and the figure of Avtonomov was lost in the darkness. - -We could then think of leaving, and we quickly descended the hillock.... -In a few minutes we heard the bells in the tower. Some one apparently -wanted to show that there were people in the cemetery.... - -Andrey Ivanovich walked slowly and thoughtfully. Ivan Ivanovich ran -panting at a dog trot and constantly stifling his cough.... When we had -reached a proper distance he stopped and said again with indescribable -sorrow: - -“We’ve lost Avtonomov....” - -His voice was so despairing that Andrey Ivanovich and I involuntarily -felt sorry for him. We stopped and began to peer into the darkness. - -“He’s coming,” said Andrey Ivanovich, straining his lynx-like eyes. - -In very truth we soon saw behind us a strange shape like a moving tree. -Avtonomov had large bunches of lilacs in his belt, on his shoulders, and -in his hands, and even his cap was decorated with flowers. When he caught -up with us he had perfect control of himself and seemed neither glad nor -astonished. He walked on along the road and the branches waved about him -in a very peculiar manner. - -“It’s great to walk at night, signor,” he began grandiloquently, like -an actor. “The fields are clothed in darkness.... There’s a grove on -one side.... See how peaceful it is! The nightingale pours forth its -melody....” - -He almost declaimed this but yet his voice showed that he was a little -exasperated. - -“Wouldn’t you like a spray from my garden, signor?” - -With a theatrical gesture, he offered me a branch of lilacs. - -Near the road a nightingale sang timidly and irresolutely. In the -distance, in answer to the bells from the cemetery, came another, and we -could hear the noise of a rattle. Somewhere on the dark plain dogs were -barking.... The night grew darker and it began to feel like rain.... - -“I’m sorry,” Avtonomov suddenly began at random, “I got separated from -you by the cemetery. I have an old friend who lives there, a real old -friend. If he’d been home, we’d all have gotten lodging and something to -eat.... The old woman asked me to stop, ... but without her husband——” - -Ivan Ivanovich cleared his throat. The bootmaker snorted ironically. - -Avtonomov must have guessed that we had seen more than he thought, for he -turned to me and said: - -“Judge not, signor, that ye be not judged.... Another’s soul, signor, is -dark.... Some time,” he added resolutely, “believe me, I’ll come here, -... and I’ll be entertained.... And then....” - -“And then?” - -“Oh!... we’ll be entertained.... Drink till you can’t see.... And I’ll -crow over it....” - -“Why?” - -“Why! This place should be like any other. But yet, signor, it appeals -to me.... The past....” - -He walked on more rapidly. - -We passed by a little village and reached the last hut. Its small windows -looked out sightlessly into the dark field.... All were sleeping within. - -Avtonomov suddenly walked up to the window and tapped sharply on the -pane. An indistinct face appeared behind it. - -“Who’s there?” asked a dull voice, and a frightened face was pressed -against the glass. “Who’s coming around this time of night?” - -“The d-devil,” drawled Avtonomov in a piercing, evil tone, and he stuck -his head with its floral decorations against the pane.... The face within -disappeared in terror.... Dogs began to bark in the village; the guard -struck his rattle; the dark plain went on guard.... Again somewhere in -the distance the sleeping churches droned forth their prolonged notes, as -if to defend the peaceful region from some unknown evil. As if they felt -that above them was hanging the menace of certain dark and hopelessly -ruined lives. - - -VI - -We walked for more than an hour through the dark fields. Weariness -claimed its own and we neither wished to speak nor listen. At first I -kept on thinking and tried in the darkness to imagine the appearance -of my companions. This worked with Andrey Ivanovich, whom I knew well, -and also with the little wanderer, but I had forgotten the features -of Avtonomov, and as I looked at his dark form I could not recall his -face.... Avtonomov at the clerk’s house and yesterday’s preacher seemed -two distinct people. - -My thoughts became still more confused; several days of tramping,—the -dull night, the silence, the heavy, muddy road or the absence of -one,—this was all that I could learn from my great weariness, and I began -to lose myself as I walked along. It was a sort of semi-consciousness -which permitted fantastic dreams strangely intertwined with reality. -But reality for me was merely the dark road and three misty shapes, -now behind me, now driving me onward.... I went with them almost -unconsciously. - -When I partially awoke, they were standing in the road and arguing. - -“Open your eyes,” said the bootmaker, angrily but lazily. - -“Thanks for your explanation,—I wouldn’t have guessed it,” answered the -wanderer. “Don’t you know, signor, how to get to the road?” - -I looked out lazily into the darkness. With its arms disappearing among -the clouds, a huge black windmill towered above us; behind and beside it -were others. I thought the whole field was dotted with windmills, silent -but menacing.... - -“I’ve been spitting all night to beat this devil,” said Andrey Ivanovich -venomously. - -“Well, just keep still a little while, lanky signor,” said Avtonomov. -“Listen!...” - -“Grinding?” said Andrey Ivanovich questioningly.... - -“Right,” answered Avtonomov cheerfully. “The wheels are working. What a -jolly little river!” - -“Is it far?” - -“Yes, by the road. We’ll take a short cut.” - -“You’ll land us in the swamp, you devil....” - -My feet carried me through the darkness after the three dark figures. I -stumbled over the stubble or the hummocks, and they threw me forward or -to the side.... If I had met a ravine or a river,—I would probably have -waked up at the bottom.... At times strange phantoms leaped and flew from -my head into the unshapen fog. - -Finally I ceased to stumble over hummocks. I felt a level road beneath -my feet and I heard an even, kindly hum. Water was pouring, roaring, -running, splashing and foaming, telling of something interesting, but -too confused.... The noise stopped, but suddenly it became louder, as if -the water were pouring through a dam.... I woke up completely and looked -around in surprise.... Andrey Ivanovich caught me from behind. He took my -arm and pushed me ahead.... - -“Wake up ... you’ll sleep when you’re walking.... We’re tied up with the -devil and may God forgive us!... If the peasants come out, they’ll break -our necks.... Quick, quick.... See Ivan Ivanovich go with his cassock -held up....” - -Indeed, the little wanderer was running with a speed that surprised me. - -“Here ... here....” - -Without understanding what had happened, I found myself hidden in -the thick willows on the bank of a little stream. Ivan Ivanovich was -panting.... Avtonomov was not with us. Near by the mill was roaring. The -water raged and poured through the open sluices. One wheel was turning -heavily as before,—another seemed locked,—it trembled and groaned beneath -the assaults of the water. A dog was pulling at his chain and howling -with anger. - -A window in the mill lighted up as if the building had waked and opened -one eye. A door creaked and the old miller in a white shirt and trousers -came out on the platform with a lantern. Behind him came another man, -yawning and stretching. - -“Did the dam go out?” he asked. - -“It certainly did,—hear it roar in the sluice-ways; it almost broke the -bars.... Just look.... Oh, ye saints....” - -“Just look; they’re open.” - -“What the devil! Who opened them?” - -The peasants went to the sluices. The roar soon died away; they pushed -both bolts and the mill stopped. The light of the lantern slowly crawled -back along the dam and again disappeared. Then a rattle sounded shrilly. -One peasant was evidently still on guard.... - -The unusual commotion at the mill, sounding across the fields, again -roused the sleeping villages. It was surprising how many of them were -hidden in the darkness. From all sides, in front, behind, almost beneath, -they answered the alarm with the beating of boards and rattles. The slow -peal of a bell floated up from a distant village or a cemetery. Near by -some night bird called. - -“Let’s go,” said Andrey Ivanovich, when the mill had become quiet.... -“One rascal can so disturb people.” - -“What’s the matter?” I asked. - -“Ask him,” said the bootmaker spitefully, and he pointed to Ivan -Ivanovich. - -“Y-yes,” answered the wanderer sadly. “Of course, it’s outrageous.... I -don’t approve of it....” - -“What’s the matter? Where’s Avtonomov?” - -“There he is—calling like a bird and making signs to us.... Come here, my -dear companions.... How the rascal managed to open the sluices, I didn’t -happen to notice. You, too!... You’ll follow him and sleep. If you’d kept -on ... and the peasants had appeared before,—there’d have been a picnic. -You bet! I’ll catch that devil and don’t you interfere. I’ll turn him -inside out and run his feet out through his throat!...” - -He started ahead with his mind made up. - - -VII - -Andrey Ivanovich did not carry out his savage intentions and in a half -hour we were again walking silently along the road.... It was not yet -sunrise, but the white, milky streaks kept breaking through the clouds, -and beneath our feet we could see the whitish fog which covered the whole -plain. Suddenly the fog opened and showed us a horse’s head and a cart -loaded with sacks and a peasant sleeping on them and another empty cart -behind it. - -“Uncle, hey, uncle,” said Andrey Ivanovich to the second peasant, “won’t -you take us along?” - -The peasant rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked with amazement at the crowd -which had surrounded him. - -“Where did God bring you from?” - -“A pilgrimage.” - -“So, so! Sit down, but I can’t take you far; we’re from around here.” - -“You’re not from the mill?” - -“They were at the mill, but I’m empty. Sit down; that’s right.” - -We got into the cart and sat down, letting our feet hang. - -“Let me ask you a question,” said our guide, clucking to his horse; “have -you been walking all night?” - -“Yes.” - -“You didn’t hear anything, did you?” - -“Some dogs barking in the distance. Why?” - -“Why? Some one opened the sluices in the mill and almost smashed the -wheels.” - -“Who was it?” - -“I don’t know! Some one got fooling around at night. In our little -village near by, they say, the fellow asked to be taken in. A peasant -looked out, but he said: ‘I’m the devil, let me in.’” - -“He was,” said Avtonomov, who had discarded his decorations some time -before. - -“He wasn’t.... I’ll never believe it.... And I won’t let you either.” -Andrey Ivanovich spoke ardently and decidedly to the peasant. “Some -rascals have been deceiving you country people.... Your simplicity....” - -“There are people who do not believe in God and the Saints,” said -Avtonomov, with the greatest humility and composure. - -Andrey Ivanovich gritted his teeth and showed Avtonomov his fist, when -the peasant was not looking. - - -VIII - -About noon we reached my home in the same kind of a cart. This we had -happened to meet at the edge of the city. The cart stopped at the gate. -Our picturesque company attracted the attention of several passers-by, a -thing that clearly annoyed Andrey Ivanovich.... I asked my companion to -come in and rest and have some tea. - -“Thanks, I haven’t far to go,” answered the bootmaker coldly. He threw -his wallet on his back and, then, without ceremony, he pointed at -Avtonomov. - -“Are you inviting him in?” - -“Yes, I’m inviting Gennady Sergeyevich,” I answered. - -Andrey Ivanovich turned sharply and, without saying good-bye, he started -down the street. - -Ivan Ivanovich looked desperately frightened, as if my invitation had -caught him in a trap. He looked appealingly at Avtonomov, and shame at -being present tortured his whole figure. Avtonomov asked simply: - -“Where are we going?” - -While the samovar was being heated, I asked the servants to gather up -some superfluous clothes and linen and offered my companions a change of -attire. Avtonomov at once consented, tied them all in one bundle and said: - -“We’ve got to have a bath....” - -Of course, I did not object. Both wanderers came back from the bath -transformed. Ivan Ivanovich, in a coat which was too broad and trousers -which were too long and with his thin hair, looked astonishingly like a -woman in man’s clothes. As far as Avtonomov was concerned, he was not -satisfied with the conventional amount of clothing, but he had put on -everything which had been given him to choose from. He was wearing, -consequently, a blue shirt, a blouse, two vests, and a coat. The shirt -stuck up above the collar of the blouse and reached below it,—it was so -much longer. The edge of the blouse was visible and the coat seemed to -form a third layer.... At the tea table Ivan Ivanovich was so miserable -that we let him take his cup into the kitchen, where he sat down in one -corner and immediately won the sympathy of our cook. - -Avtonomov acted recklessly, called my mother signora and jumped up every -minute in order to serve something. - -After tea he looked himself over from head to foot and said, with an air -of satisfaction: - -“In this costume my brother-in-law won’t be ashamed of me.... I’ll go see -my sister.... She lives near here. May I leave my wallet in your hall, -signora?” - -When he went to the gate, Ivan Ivanovich ran after him in terror. After a -short conversation Avtonomov permitted the poor fellow to follow him at -some distance. - -Ivan Ivanovich soon returned alone. His bird-like face beamed with -surprise and delight. - -“They received him,” he said, clearing his throat joyfully. “That’s the -solemn truth. He really has a sister. And a brother-in-law.... Please go -past, accidentally.... You’ll see it, too.... As God is true, they’re -sitting in a garden entertaining him ... like a brother. His sister’s -weeping from joy....” - -From the breast of the little wanderer came strange sounds like -hysterical laughing and weeping. - -In an hour Avtonomov appeared, transfigured and triumphant. He came up to -me, fervently grasped my hand, and pressed it till it hurt. - -“Through you I’ve found my relatives.... Yes.... That’s it! Till -death....” - -He pressed my hand still harder, then convulsively released it and turned -away. Apparently the brother-in-law, who was not without influence in the -consistory, believed in Avtonomov’s reformation and decided to help him. -It was also necessary to get certain papers from Uglich and.... - -“Back here again! My wanderings are ended, signor.... I won’t forsake -you, Vanya.... I’ll give you a corner and food.... Live.... I’ll be -responsible.... You’ll get quarters ... also....” - -As I listened to this conversation, involuntary doubts crept into my -mind, the more so as Avtonomov had resumed his grandiloquent manner and -kept using more and more frequently the word signor.... - -Towards evening the two set out “for Uglich to get the papers.” Avtonomov -gave me a solemn promise to return in a week “to begin his new life.” - -“Is this all that was necessary for this ‘miracle?’” I thought -doubtfully.... - - -IX - -The weather suddenly changed.... A wonderful early spring seemed to be -replaced by late, cold autumn.... It rained hard for days and the wind -howled amid the rain and the fog. - -One cold morning of this kind I awoke late and was trying to guess the -time when I heard a light noise and a strange whistle in the hall by the -door. I opened and saw some living creature in a dark corner. Yes! it was -Ivan Ivanovich. He trembled all over, was blue, and looked at me with his -appealing, timid eyes. It was the look of a frightened animal near its -end. - -“Your weakness again?” I asked kindly. - -“Yes,” he answered humbly and briefly, and he started to straighten his -clothing. He was again wearing an impossible cassock, he had no hat, and -on his bare feet were rough shoes. - -Avtonomov soon made his appearance. He was drunk and unpleasantly bold. -He spoke in affectedly grandiloquent phrases, acted like an old friend, -and from time to time in his reminiscences of our wanderings he made -spicy allusions to a certain soldier’s wife.... In his eyes gleamed an -evil passion and in him I recognized again the preacher in the monastery -courtyard,—and readiness for any evil deed. He never said a word about -his visit to his sister.... - -“Listen ... Dearie, ...” he turned to the maid.... “The other time I left -a cassock with you.... It’s still fit to be worn.... Your present was -unlucky,” he added, looking impudently at me.... “We were robbed near -Uglich ... and they took absolutely everything we had. A merchant cheated -you on those felt shoes, that’s easy to see.... Cheap goods, cheap.... -They fell all to pieces....” - -He condescendingly patted my shoulder. - -Ivan Ivanovich looked at his protector reproachfully. We parted quite -coldly, but everyone in my house felt sincere sympathy and pity for Ivan -Ivanovich. - -After that, from time to time, I heard from my accidental comrades. These -messages were usually brought by people in cloaks and cassocks and with -more or less clear indications of “weakness” they gave me greetings or -notes and they showed how disillusioned they felt, when they saw the -meagreness of the reward which they received. Once during the fair a -fellow appeared totally drunk and very evil looking, but he handed me a -note with as much mysterious familiarity as if it had been from a mutual -friend and confidant. - -In the note a very shaky and uneven hand had scribbled: - -“Dear friend. Receive the bearer as you would me. He is our friend and -can tell you everything; incidentally give him money and clothing.... His -trousers are pretty bad.... Gennady Avtonomov.” - -One glance was enough to show that the agent was really in dire need -of trousers.... But in spite of his intoxication, his eyes quickly and -curiously ran over the contents of my rooms, and they showed well the -results of professional training.... - -When he left, I heard an unpleasant noise and I had to run to the -assistance of my good neighbors. - - -X - -About two years passed, before I again met my former companions. - -One hot summer’s day, I had crossed the Volga on a ferry and a pair of -horses was dragging us over the sands of the bank to the foot of a hill. -The sun had set, but it was intolerably hot. It seemed as if whole waves -of heat were being wafted from the gleaming river. Flies hung in clouds -over the horses, the bells rang unevenly, and the wheels dragged in the -deep sand.... Half way up the hill a monastery nestled among the trees -and as it looked down on the river out of the rising mist, it seemed to -be suspended in midair. - -Suddenly the coachman stopped his weary team at the very foot of the hill -and ran along the bank. A quarter of a verst away on the rocky and pebbly -edge of the river was a black group of people directly between us and the -sun. - -“Something’s happened,” said my companion. - -I got out and also walked up to the place. - -A dead body was lying on the bare bank, against which the water was -splashing lazily. When I came nearer, I recognized in it my old -acquaintance: the little wanderer was lying in his cassock, on his -stomach, with outstretched hands and with his head turned at an unnatural -angle. He was pale as death; his black hair had fallen over his forehead -and temples, and his mouth was half open. I involuntarily recalled that -face, as it was when it was filled with childish delight over the -singing of the little bird on the hilltop. With his long, sharp nose and -his open mouth,—he reminded me greatly of a tortured and stifled bird. - -Avtonomov sat swaying back and forth beside him and seemed frightened. -There was a perceptible odor of wine in the air.... - -Glancing at the people who were coming up and not recognizing me, he -suddenly pulled the dead body. - -“Get up, comrade, it’s time to be going.... A wanderer’s fate is to -wander always.” - -He spoke in a very bombastic manner, but he rose uncertainly.... - -“Don’t you want to? Look, Vanya, I’ll leave you! I’ll go off alone....” - -A village chief, with a medal on his chest, hurried up to the group and -laid one hand on Avtonomov’s shoulder. - -“Stop, don’t go away.... You’ve got to make a statement.... What sort of -people are you?” - -Avtonomov, with ironical humility, took off his cap and bowed. - -“Please be so kind, your village excellency....” - -Above our heads sounded a peal of the bell. The monks were being summoned -to vespers. The peal echoed, disturbed the heated air, and rolled above -the leafy tops of the oaks and black poplars beside the monastery and as -it died away, it fell to the sleepy river. The sound increased again, as -it struck the water, and a keen eye could almost follow its flight to the -other bank, to the bluish, mist-wrapped meadows. - -All removed their hats. Avtonomov turned toward the sound and shook his -fist in the air. - -“Listen, Vanya,” he said, “your father superior is calling you.... Your -benefactor.... Now he’ll receive you, I know....” - -Peal after peal, rapid and repeated, ringing and quavering, fell down -upon the river solemnly and quietly.... - - - - -ISN’T IT TERRIBLE? - -(FROM THE DIARY OF A REPORTER) - - - - -ISN’T IT TERRIBLE? - -(FROM THE DIARY OF A REPORTER) - - -I - -“Be in N-sk on the twentieth. Session of district court. Details in -letter. Editor.” - -I looked at my watch and then went to inquire about the trains. I hoped -that I could not catch the night train at the station, which was some -ten versts from the city where I had just finished another piece of -reporting. I saw already the laconic and business-like answer: “Telegram -delayed, cannot arrive on twentieth.” Unfortunately the time-table and -my watch decided differently. I had three hours to pack and get to the -station. That was time enough. - -About 11 o’clock on a warm summer evening a coachman landed me at the -station; the lights could be seen for a great distance. I got there just -in time; the train was waiting. - -Directly opposite the entrance there was a car with the windows open. It -was not filled and some intelligent-appearing men were playing cards. -I imagined that they were members of the court going to the session, -and I decided to look for a place elsewhere. This was no easy task but -I finally succeeded. The train was just starting when, with my bag in -my hand, I entered a second-class compartment in which there were three -passengers. - -I sat down by the window, through which entered the freshness of the -summer night, and soon there were flying past me ends of sleepers, hills, -roaring bridges, buildings, fields bathed in the moonlight,—all as if -carried by a high wind. I was tired and sad. I thought how my life was -flying in the same way, from bridge to bridge, from station to station, -from city to city, from fire to law court.... And that I could never -write for any paper what the editor wanted. And all that I would write -the next day would be dry and uninteresting. - -These were not cheerful thoughts. I tore myself away from them and began -to listen to the conversation of my fellow travelers. - - -II - -My nearest neighbor was sleeping contentedly, letting me stretch out as I -could. Opposite me one passenger was lying down and another was sitting -by the window. They kept on with the conversation they had already -commenced. - -“Let’s imagine,” said the one who was lying down, “that I am a man who -is not superstitious.... But yet” (he yawned pleasantly and slowly) “it -cannot be denied that there is much, so to speak, unknown,—isn’t that -so?... Let’s suppose, the peasants ... country naïvete and superstition. -But take a paper....” - -“Well, a paper. Superstition is for peasants, but this is for the papers. -A peasant, simple fellow, sees a primitive devil with horns and breathing -fire. He’s frightened.... A reporter sees a figure from the ballet....” - -The gentleman who admitted that there was “much unknown” yawned again. - -“Yes,” he said with a somewhat scientific air, “that is true; fears -disappear with the development of culture and education....” - -His companion did not reply, but later said thoughtfully: - -“Disappear?... Do you remember in Tolstoy: Anna Karenina and Vronsky have -the identical dream: a peasant, an ordinary laborer ‘works in steel’ and -speaks French.... Both wake up in terror.... What’s so terrible there? -Of course, it’s a little strange for a peasant to speak French. But, -granted.... Nevertheless, in a given combination of circumstances, a -picture which is not frightful will terrify you.... Take the Brothers -Karamazov of Dostoyevsky.... We’ve got there an urban devil.... You -remember, of course....” - -“No, I don’t.... You know, Pavel Semenovich, I’m an instructor of -mathematics....” - -“Oh, excuse me.... I thought.... Yes, I remember: he was a certain man, -or, better yet, a certain type of Russian gentleman, quite well along -in years, with his hair and pointed beard rather gray.... His linen and -necktie, you know, were like those of any other stylish gentleman, but -his linen was rather dirty and his necktie frayed. To sum up, ‘He looked -like a man of taste with slender financial resources....’” - -“That’s a fine devil! A mere sharper, and they’re common enough,” -remarked the mathematician. - -“Yes, I know there’s a lot of them.... But it’s frightful and it’s that, -just because it’s so common; that same poor necktie, linen, and coat.... -If it were only frayed, it would be like yours or mine....” - -“All right, Pavel Semenovich.... Excuse me, but you have a strange -philosophy.” - -The mathematician seemed rather insulted. Pavel Semenovich turned towards -the light, and I had a good view of his broad face, straight brows and -gray, thoughtful eyes hidden under his stern forehead. - -Both paused. For a little while you could hear only the hurried roar of -the train. Then Pavel Semenovich began again in his even voice. - -“At the station of N-sk I happened, you know, to walk up toward the -engine. I’m a little acquainted with the engineer.... A chronically -sleepy individual with swollen eyes.” - -“Yes?” asked his companion indifferently, and not trying to conceal his -feelings. - -“Certainly.... A natural condition. He hadn’t slept for thirty-six hours.” - -“M-n, yes.... That is a long while.” - -“I thought so too: we fall asleep.... The train is flying at full -speed.... And it’s run by a man who is almost stupefied....” - -His companion fidgeted a little. - -“What an idea!... Really, damnation.... You should have told the chief of -the station....” - -“What for?... He’d laugh! A common thing. You might almost call it the -system. In Petersburg there’s a gentleman sitting in some office.... He’s -got a board in front of him with numbers on it. Arrival.... Departure.... -And the engineers are listed too.... Pay—so much. Versts—so many. -Versts—that’s the length of the run,—a useful number, profitable, steady, -that can be increased. The pay for the men is minus.... And this fellow -just cracks his head, thinking how to run the largest number of miles on -the smallest number of engineers. Or even make the distance larger than -ever.... It’s a sort of silent game with numbers, so to speak.... And a -most ordinary chap bothers with it.... He wears a poor coat and necktie, -and he looks respectable.... A good friend and a fine husband.... He -loves his child and gives presents to his wife on holidays.... His job -is harmless, and he merely decides simple questions. The result is that -sleep kills people.... And across the fields and through the ravines of -our beloved country on such moonlight nights as this trains tear along -like this, and the watch is kept by the sleepy, swollen eyes of the man -who is responsible for hundreds of lives.... A moment’s slumber....” - -The legs of the mathematician in their checkered trousers stirred: he -got up from his seat in the shadow and sat down on a bench.... His fat, -expressionless face, with its thick, clipped mustache, made you uneasy. - -“Stop your croaking, for heaven’s sake,” he said angrily. “However you -argue, the result is the same, devil take it.... I wanted to fall -asleep....” - -Pavel Semenovich looked at him in surprise. - -“What’s the matter?” he said. “Are you crazy? We’ll get there all right, -if God wills. I merely want to point out how the terrible and the usual -are combined.... Economy is the most ordinary idea of life.... But -sometimes it involves death.... It is even measurable by the law of -probability....” - -The mathematician, still more angry, took out his cigar case and said, as -he began to smoke: - -“No, you’re right: the devil knows: the rascal’ll fall asleep, and all -at once.... These beasts of railroad men.... O, let’s talk of something -else. The devil take these fears.... Are you still vegetating in -Tikhodol?... You’ve stuck there a long time....” - -“Yes,” answered Pavel Semenovich, a little embarrassed. “It’s such -a wretched place. It’s just like living in a yoke.... A teacher, -prosecutor, excise official.... When you once land there, you’re -forgotten, and removed from the lists of the living....” - -“Yes.... It is an awful place.... It’s deadening.... Why, there’s not -even a club there. And the mud is unendurable.” - -“There’s a club now, at least that’s what we call it.... And there are a -few stretches of pavement.... Lighting, especially in the centre of the -town.... But, I’ll confess, I live on the edge, and don’t make much use -of these conveniences.” - -“Where do you live?” - -“With Budnikov, in the suburbs.” - -“Budnikov? Semen Nikolayevich? Just think, I lived in that section -myself: with Father Polidorov.... Of course, I met Budnikov! A fine man, -well educated, but rather—filled with ideas?” - -“Yes, with a few notions....” - -“No, not that.... I said ideas. But notions. What? None special, I think.” - -“No, nothing special, but just the same: he used to keep valuable papers -in a mattress....” - -“Why, I never knew that. But when I met him he made a queer impression on -me. He was so fresh and original.... A house owner, and all of a sudden -he went to living in two rooms without servants.... No, I remember, he -had a kind of porter....” - -“Yes, Gavrilo....” - -“That’s right, that’s right. Gavrilo, a little fellow with white -eyebrows? Yes? That’s right.... I remember I liked to look at his -face: such a good-natured snout. I almost thought the master was part -workman.... Who is he? Is he always that way?” - -Pavel Semenovich said nothing for a few minutes. He then looked at his -companion with some embarrassment and replied: - -“Y-yes, you’re right.... That actually happened.... Semen Nikolayevich -... and Gavrilo.... Both together....” - -“Yes, I remember....” - -“He was a fine man for our city.... Educated, independent, with ideas.... -He went to the university but never finished because of some escapade.... -He once spoke of it as if he had made an unfortunate venture into -love. ‘My heart was broken,’ he said. On the other hand I know that he -corresponded with a friend in some outlandish place. That shows there -was something behind it.... His father, he said, was a usurer, but not -a malicious one. This caused a row between father and son. The young -student didn’t approve of it and wouldn’t touch the money, but lived by -teaching.... When the father died, Semen Nikolayevich came and inherited -the property. He said to some one: ‘I don’t want it.... This is owed to -society.’ Then I don’t know what happened.... The house, land, long-term -leases, a lawsuit.... He carried it on one, two, three years, and then -got to like it. Many still remember how he said: ‘I’ll finish the lawsuit -with these curs and settle up.... I won’t stay a day longer in this -confounded hole.’ ... But it’s the usual story.... We had a teacher once, -a zoölogist, who came to our gymnasium and said bluntly: ‘As soon as I -write my dissertation, I’ll get out of the swamp!’” - -“That’s Kallistov, isn’t it?” asked the mathematician, with great -interest. The narrator waved assent. - -“He’s still writing it. He married; had three children.... That’s just -the way with Semen Nikolayevich Budnikov. He’s been making a dissertation -of his life, so to speak. He began to enjoy this lawsuit. Challenges, -protests, cassation, the whole game.... And he kept writing himself -without consulting lawyers.... Then, after a while, he commenced to build -a new house. When I got to know him, he was already a lucky, middle-aged -bachelor, with a reddish face, and such a pleasant, quiet, substantial -and sleepy voice. Then he had a few peculiarities. He sometimes used to -come to see me, especially when it was time to pay my rent.... This was -due on the twentieth. That meant that on the twentieth he used to come -at eight o’clock in the evening and drink two cups of tea with rum in -it. No more, no less! In each cup two spoonfuls of rum and one of sugar. -I got to look at this as an addition to my rent. He did the same with -all his lodgers,—only some with and some without rum. The rents were -all different, about twenty in his four houses (one in the city was -quite large).... That made forty cups of tea.... He seemed as if he had -included that in his budget and marked it down.... Sometimes, ‘I didn’t -find so and so at home, but he brought the money the next day. Still -owing, two cups of tea.’” - -“Really?” laughed Petr Petrovich. “He never reasoned that way! Why do you -think so?” - -“For this reason. At first this was an unexpected characteristic, but -it got to be believed, although in your time maybe it didn’t exist. The -tenants began to say: you know M. Budnikov is an economical man. That -was meant well and even as a sign of approval. But it suddenly reacted -on Budnikov.... You understand? The unintelligible man began to develop -a special intelligible trait.... It became clearer and clearer. All -believed, for example, that M. Budnikov kept no servants. Gavrilo was -the porter of the house where I lived; he used to clean the clothes of -the different people, fix the samovars, and run errands. Sometimes the -master and servant used to sit side by side and clean shoes, the porter -for the tenants, Budnikov for himself. Then M. Budnikov got a horse. No -special need for him to do it. As a luxury, he’d ride twice a week to -a farm near the city. The rest of the time the horse was free. Gavrilo -wasn’t busy all the time either.... The result was—the horse was put at -Gavrilo’s disposal, and he used to ride down town. Gavrilo had nothing -against this arrangement, because he considered incessant work his -special duty. You know there’s a sort of talent for everything, and I -thought once that Gavrilo was a kind of genius in the field of muscular -labor.... Easy motioned,—unwearied freshness. Sometimes at night he -wouldn’t sleep. Look out of the window and you’d see Gavrilo sweeping -the street or cleaning the ditches. It meant—he’d gone to bed and then -remembered he hadn’t swept all the pavement the last thing. So he’d go -and clean it. And this was really beautiful.” - -“Yes,” said the mathematician, “that’s a good description of the man. I -remember I liked to look at him,—he seemed rather attractive.” - -“Spiritual poise is always beautiful, and he did his duty without -speculating about his relation to his master.... And that was a fine -thing, you know,—their mutual relations. One used his muscles admirably. -The other gave reason and rational meaning to it.... He saw that the time -was not all filled ... and he found a new occupation.... There was a sort -of balancing of interests, almost an idyl.... Almost before dawn Gavrilo -was at work. M. Budnikov also got up early. They said good morning with a -manifestly pleasant feeling. Then M. Budnikov either went to work in his -garden or went around his ‘estate’ scattered through the city. Poverty -gets up early, and he went mornings to poverty’s quarters.... Then he’d -come back and say: - -“‘Now harness up, Gavrilo, and I’ll finish cleaning up.... The officials -are just going to their offices. You may meet some one....’ - -“At this time he considered himself neither a Tolstoyan nor a deliberate -simplifier.... He often spoke of the abnormality of our lives, of the -necessity of paying our debt to the laboring man, of the advantages -of physical labor. ‘See, I’m working,’ he’d say to any one who caught -him busied with axe or spade. ‘I’m helping my neighbor, my porter, -with his work.’ It was hard to tell whether he was talking ironically -or seriously.... At noon Gavrilo’d come back and put his horse in the -stable, and M. Budnikov would go of on business and make polite remarks -to his tenants about a broken fence or a piece of plaster knocked down -by children’s balls.... He often came back with one or two beggars. They -had asked him for alms on the street and he’d offered ‘assistance through -toil.’ ... Of course, the rogues ran off shamefully, but M. Budnikov -took especial pleasure in working, either alone or with Gavrilo. All the -beggars in the city soon got to know him and bowed with a friendly smile, -but did not ask for money. ‘Why can’t you see what’s good for you, my -friends?’ he’d say meaningly. I must say that a ‘life of toil’ did bring -him manifest personal benefits; his ruddy color was absolutely evident, -even, and healthy. His face was always quiet and placid, and almost like -Gavrilo’s.... It had nothing malicious or strange in it.” - -“I see, you’re back on your old theme!” said the mathematician, -standing up and striking his companion’s shoulder. “Of course, nothing -terrible.... I’m going out here.... Eight minutes’ wait.” - -The train slowed down and stopped. - - -III - -Pavel Semenovich, thus left without an audience, looked around in -despair. Soon his gray eyes met mine. In his gaze I noticed an obstinate -idea like that of a maniac.... - -“You ... understand?” he said frankly, wholly undisturbed by the fact -that he was talking to a stranger. - -“I think so,” I answered. - -“Good,” he said, with evident satisfaction, and then he went on, as if he -were talking to the same person. - -“I had, you know, a school friend named Kalugin, Petr Petrovich. As a -young man he was infected with the tendencies of his age, but he was a -rare type. He said little. He preferred to listen, and he watched how -others failed, and he tried, as is said, to turn the wheel of history.... -But you could feel his rapture and his devotion in his silence.... He -finally came to the conclusion: ‘Everything is good and extraordinarily -fine, but there is no lever. Money is the lever. And you can’t do a thing -without a hundred thousand.’ You know, he succeeded in convincing several -of his friends of this and they formed a small savings association. Of -course, nothing came of it: one simply got tired; fate placed another -too far from the source of gain. But Petr Petrovich held on and won. -He wasn’t brilliant, but he was of a good character, and that kind of -men get along well in business. He first went into some sort of an -institution along the Volga. It wasn’t a bank nor a loan association. To -get ahead, he didn’t despise even this, and all of a sudden he put new -life into it, as they say. In three years’ time, he was making about six -thousand a year.... He put the question this way: ‘Five twenties make a -hundred! I’ll keep one thousand a year and put five thousand away for -the cause. In twenty years my lever’ll be ready.’ More than that, he did -it. Of course he had to have a self-sacrificing character. And system! -First, to avoid all foolish accidents, he left his old friends ‘for a -time,’—those who tried to catch the wheel of history in their bare hands. -‘I’ve got my problem.... Ingratitude ... accidental notes ... do me the -favor, it’s not necessary.’ ... And he held out. He mastered his life and -counted every detail. Nothing—except making money! He got up every day, -not like Budnikov at seven o’clock, but at thirteen minutes to seven. -Second by second! He gave up his personal life.... Up to that time he -had had only one pleasure: he got intimate with a girl, but on a free -basis. They gave each other their word ‘not to bind each other.’ What a -stupid phrase! A child gave its word to no one.... It just appeared and -demanded its rights.... She was glad.... He was angry. This unpleasant -event might be repeated, he thought, and, with an eye on his great cause, -he determined to enjoy his freedom. ‘I’ll give the child a certain sum,’ -he said, ‘even though it interferes with my great cause.’ ... The woman -also had character. She never touched a cent of the money, but snatched -up the child,—and away forever.... How he felt afterwards, no one knows, -but he worked harder than ever to save money.... After various successes -and failures, after twenty years, during which he regularly got up at -thirteen minutes to seven, he congratulated himself on his success. He -had a hundred thousand. He went to his work at the usual time, walked -into the office of his superior and said: ‘I’ll leave in two months.’ -They opened their mouths in amazement. ‘Are you crazy? Why? Can we raise -your salary? Give you a share of the profits?’ No! He told why, and -in two months he went to Moscow to take up his old life. And he had a -hundred thousand in his pocket.” - -“Oh, ho!” said Petr Petrovich, who just then came back from the -restaurant.... “Still talking about Budnikov?” - -“No,” answered Pavel Semenovich. “I was talking about some one else.” - -“Some one else! Go on, I don’t care.... Go on with the hundred thousand. -I hope that’s not terrible....” - -His voice sounded as if it were mocking. Pavel Semenovich looked at him -in mild surprise and turned to me. - -“Yes, it’s like this.... He went to Moscow,—to his past, you see.... -He thought life would wait, till he got rich.... He’d go to the same -newspaper corner, find the same arguments and the same people, and they’d -be grabbing at the wheel of history with their hands as ever.... He’d -show his lever.... ‘Permit me! You have fine ideas.... Here’s my money -to carry them out.’ But there wasn’t a soul to offer it to; there were -other people in the corner, and they talked differently. The others had -perished under the wheel of history, or had given up.... Life is like a -train.... If you leave the station for a time, when you come back the -train’s gone. Sometimes you can’t even find the station. You understand -this tragedy, my friend?” - -“But, excuse me,” said Petr Petrovich. “A hundred thousand! Free! Many a -man will be willing to have this tragedy....” - -“Yes? But this man, I tell you, was sincere.” - -“What of it?” - -“Just this.... He wandered around among his old and new friends and -kept looking for the train.... He disgusted every one.... The thing -for which he had given his own life and another’s was unintelligible; -it’s just like losing a finger when you don’t know what for. You -understand,—various, respectable affairs like a ‘people’s home’ or a -paper or an ‘ideal book store’ don’t satisfy a seventy-year-old man.... -He’s ready then to give up interest and capital....” - -“But at six per cent you can live modestly.... You can live!” - -“Of course.... But if you want to do something.... This was an act of -heroism.... He gave his life as others do theirs.... And not only his.... -Would you do that for a little miserly interest?... And there was no -reason for his heroism.... To sum up, one fine day they found him in a -lonely room in a hotel with a bullet in his head.... And he had gotten -rid of his money somehow, quickly and quietly.... I saw him the day -before at a meeting of some society. No one noticed him especially. They -greeted him and passed on; he was but a respectable man. Of a strong -character and the best of intentions. But unusually dull!” - -“H-m, yes!” said the mathematician. “There are such cranks.” And he -lay down to sleep. His face, with its fat, clipped mustache, again -disappeared in the shadow, and you could see only his feet and his -checkered trousers. “I think,” he growled from his corner, “that Budnikov -is more interesting. You’re not through with him....” - -“Yes.... I ... excuse me,—it was all due to chance.... I sat up all night -recently.... I was reading Budnikov’s correspondence with his ‘distant’ -friend. Believe me, I could not tear myself away, and you never would -think that it was written by that same Semen Nikolayevich Budnikov, who -drank tea and rum in my rooms, sent Gavrilo downtown, and whose soul -imperceptibly, but almost before my eyes, dried up and grew barren in -our little house.... And it remained, so to speak, without reverence for -anything.” - - -IV - -He stopped and looked at me bashfully and questioningly, as if he -felt that he had said something which was not proper for a railroad -conversation. He was somewhat startled when the mathematician exhaled a -thick cloud of smoke from his dark corner and said: - -“Pavel Semenovich, I see you really are a crank. Isn’t that so?... -Wonderful!... A man has a hundred thousand and shoots himself! Another -lives as he likes, so to speak, healthy and ruddy.... A quiet soul.... -Safe.... Is that strange?... By heavens, it’s impossible.... Good -night.... It’s time to go to sleep. Nothing, nothing!... You won’t -disturb me by talking.... I won’t listen....” - -He turned to the wall. - -Pavel Semenovich modestly and questioningly looked at me with his naïve -gray eyes, and began in a lower tone: - -“There’s a street in Tikhodol called Bolotnaya (Swamp Street). They -built a house on it near me.... New and of fresh wood.... The first year -it shone so, and then it lost its freshness. It got covered with that -especial dirt and weathering and rubbish. Then it got the same color as -the old stables and sheds and you couldn’t tell it from them. Now they -say it’s haunted.... The people suddenly said that Budnikov had robbed a -woman.” - -“That’s absolute nonsense,” called the mathematician. “I’ll never believe -that Budnikov was a robber. That’s some stupid rumor.” - -Pavel Semenovich smiled sadly and rather distractedly: - -“That’s what he was. A robber!... A robber is the word, ... precisely! -But it was just a little personal ... tangle with rather vague -outlines.... You see.... I must tell you that since your time a mother -and daughter moved in.... The women were simple and very poor and M. -Budnikov was their protector and friend. They ran in debt for a long -time, and he—always so strict in affairs of this kind—stood it, and even -gave them money. For the doctor or for better food, when one was sick. -Finally the old woman died and Yelena became an orphan. M. Budnikov -became very sympathetic, gave her a pleasant little home, and got -her work; she sewed,—got along somehow.... Then she became a sort of -housekeeper for M. Budnikov, and then,—people began to say that their -relations became more intimate....” - -“Oh, oh!” yawned the mathematician. “They didn’t need me for that.... Was -she pretty?” - -“Yes, rather pretty; fat, with flowing graceful movements and mild eyes. -They said she was stupid. But, if she was, a woman’s stupidity is often -very peculiar.... A naïve and sleeping innocence of soul. She felt her -situation very keenly. As is said in Uspensky, she was all shame.... -M. Budnikov tried to teach her and lift her up, so to speak, to his -level. She seemed incapable of it. She sat usually with a book, spelled -it out with her fingers, and her face was interested like a child’s. She -seemed to become dull and stupid when Budnikov was around. He got sick of -her actions and then of Yelena, especially as other things took up his -attention. But there was a time when he almost loved her. At least there -were indications of it. In a word, the breach was not easy for him,—his -conscience troubled him and he wanted to silence it. He finally decided -to give her a ticket of the domestic lottery.... He called her, took out -three tickets, put them on the table, placed his hand on them, and said: - -“‘Look here, Yelena. One of these tickets may win you two hundred -thousand. Do you understand?’ - -“Of course she didn’t understand well. She couldn’t imagine so large a -sum, but he went on: - -“‘Now, I’ll give you one. This paper is worth 365 rubles, but don’t sell -it.... Take it and may you be lucky....’ - -“She didn’t take it, but huddled up, as if she were afraid. ‘All right,’ -said M. Budnikov. ‘Give me your hand and take this paper.’ He took one -of the tickets and guided her hand in making two pencil strokes sharply -and heavily. His mind was clearly made up.... He gave it outright with -all the results, we may say. ‘You see,’ he said, ‘this is yours, and if -you win two hundred thousand, they’ll be yours too.’ He placed it back on -the table. She reached out her hand and put in her bosom a paper with the -number of the ticket.” - -“Really?” asked the mathematician. - -“Yes.... It had to happen so.... That machine was working in Petersburg, -throwing out one number after another.... Children’s hands pick them -up.... And one of these tickets won.” - -“Two hundred thousand?” asked the mathematician, with great interest; -apparently he had forgotten about sleeping. - -“Not two hundred, but seventy-five.... During March, M. Budnikov looked -at the list of drawings and saw that his number had won a large prize. -Zero, again zero ... 318 and 32. Suddenly he remembered that he had given -one ticket to Yelena.... He also remembered that there were two lines on -the first. He had three in a row: 317, 318 and 319. That means 317.... He -got out the tickets and looked: there were two lines on 317. Yelena had -won....” - -“The devil,” exclaimed the mathematician, raising himself a little. -“That’s luck!” - -“Yes, it was. And she was so stupid. The lines were on that number, when -he thought that he would give her another.... A mistake, a mechanical -wave of the hand, mere chance.... And, because of this chance, Yelena, -a stupid woman who understood nothing and did not know what to do with -money, would take from him ... him, M. Budnikov, take away, so to speak, -a large sum of money. That was foolish, wasn’t it? He was educated, had -an aim in his life, or had had.... He might again. He would perhaps have -used the money for some good cause. He would write again to his friend -and ask his advice.... But she ... she? A beast with a round form and -beautiful eyes, which didn’t even show clearly what was in them: the -stupidity of a calf or the innocence of a youth who had not yet grown to -conscious life.... Do you understand?... It was so natural.... Any one in -Budnikov’s place, you ... I ... even Petr Petrovich, would have felt the -same way....” - -Petr Petrovich made some sort of an indistinct sound, which was -susceptible of different interpretations. - -“No?” said Pavel Semenovich. “Excuse me.... I’m speaking about -myself.... My thoughts or rather my inclinations would have been the -same, perhaps in the subconscious realm.... Because ... knowledge and -all restraining influences are a sort of bark, a thin cover under which -purely egoistic, primal and animal desires live and move.... If they find -a weak spot....” - -“Fine, fine,” laughed Petr Petrovich condescendingly, and I thought that -he winked at me from his dark corner. “Let’s get back to Budnikov.... -What did he do? Pay it ... and that’s all.” - -“Apparently, yes; because he wanted to settle the question and was a -little afraid, he called Yelena and congratulated her on winning. Then, -apparently wishing to make use of a favorable opportunity, he hinted: -‘When we separate, you’ll be all right.’ Then he got angry....” - -“What for?” - -“I think, because she was such a fool. If she’d chosen then, she probably -wouldn’t have taken that number. But now it happened because of her -folly. An orderly and wise man lost that money. That’s what I imagine -from Yelena’s story.... ‘He ran from one corner to another and found -fault with me.’ ...” - -“What of her? Glad, of course?” - -“N-no.... She was frightened and began to weep. He got angry and she -cried and he became still more angry.” - -“Really? What a fool!” - -“Y-yes.... I’ve already explained: I don’t call her wise, but weeping.... -No, it wasn’t foolishness.... When she told it to me afterwards ... she -got to this point, looked at me with her clear, bird-like eyes, and burst -into tears. Even now I can’t forget those eyes.... Foolishness, perhaps, -but there’s foolishness and foolishness. It wasn’t clear knowledge -and calculation about the situation. But in those blue eyes there was -something very deep,—just as if a true instinct shone in them.... Those -foolish tears, perhaps, were the only correct thing at that time.... I -dare to say,—the wisest thing in the whole confused story.... Somewhere, -not far off, was hidden the solution, like a secret door....” - -“Fine, fine.... Go on!” - -“Next, ... M. Budnikov looked a long time intently at the foolish woman. -Then he sat down beside her, put his arms around her, and, for the first -time after the perceptible cooling of their relations, he asked her not -to go to her rooms, but to spend the night with him.... - -“So things went on for some time. Yelena bloomed.... Her love was -‘foolish’; it was very direct. At first,—she told me herself,—M. Budnikov -was repugnant to her. Later, after he had taken her, he dried her up, -as she said. Such direct feminine natures do not separate feelings and -facts, so to speak. Wherever you touch it, the whole complex reacts -together.... He came back to her; therefore, he loved her.... For two -weeks she was so joyful and beautiful that every one looked at her,—glad -of her limitless joy.... But in two weeks M. Budnikov again cooled -off.... A cold storm was raging in our yard.... Yelena’s eyes showed that -she had been weeping.... The neighbors grumbled and pitied. M. Budnikov -was sullen.... Those two lines had sunk deep into the hearts of both and -a third felt them.... The porter Gavrilo....” - -“H-m! The whole story!” said Petr Petrovich, again getting up and sitting -down beside Pavel Semenovich. “Was he there? Did he learn she’d won?” - -“He knew nothing about it. I’ve spoken of him. A less clever person you -could hardly imagine,—absolutely heavenly directness.... Sometimes he -didn’t seem to be a man, but ... what shall I say?... a simple collection -of muscles, partially conscious of their existence. He was constructed -properly, harmoniously, rightly, and always in motion. And, in addition, -two good human eyes looked at the whole world from the point of view -of physical and moral indifference, so to speak.... Sometimes these -eyes really gleamed with curiosity and such unconscious excellence that -you actually felt jealous. Sometimes it seemed to me that if it wasn’t -Gavrilo himself, there was something in him which understood M. Budinov, -Yelena, and me.... He understood and smiled at us, just because he -did understand.... Suddenly the man became confused.... It began when -Budnikov made up with Yelena and dropped her again.... To him she was an -abandoned ‘master’s lady,’ a creature which inspired in him no special -respect, and very probably his first advances seemed rather simple and -rustic. She met these advances with deep hostility and anger. Then -Gavrilo ‘began to think,’ that is, began to eat little, become slack in -his work, grow thin, and generally to dry up. - -“This lasted during the fall and winter. Budnikov finally grew cold to -Yelena; she felt insulted and believed that he was ‘laughing’ at her.... -Gavrilo’s character was rather spoiled and the old harmony between him -and Budnikov disappeared.... And the ticket with the two lines on it lay -in the table drawer and seemed forgotten by every one.... - -“Spring came with everything in this condition.... For a while I lost -sight of the little drama which was being enacted before my eyes.... My -examinations were coming on; I was very tired and could not sleep. If you -do fall asleep, you awake with a start and can’t get to sleep again. You -light a candle,—your books are on the table,—you begin to study.... And -it’s sunrise.... You go out on the steps, look at the sleeping street, -the trees in the garden.... A sleepy coachman is going along the street; -the trees are rustling faintly, as if they were shivering in the morning -chill.... You envy the coachman, and even the trees.... You want rest and -this concentrated unconscious life.... Then you go out in the garden.... -Sit down on a bench and just get to sleep, when the sun shines in your -eyes. There was just such a bench in a quiet corner by the stable wall. -When the sunlight fell on it at seven o’clock you’d wake up, drink your -tea, and go to your classes. - -“I went out one day at dawn and fell asleep on this bench. Suddenly -I woke up as if some one had called me. The sun had scarcely risen -very high and the bench was still in the shadow. What’s the matter, -I wondered.... What woke me up? Suddenly I heard Yelena’s voice in -Gavrilo’s stable. I wanted to get up and leave.... I don’t like to be an -eavesdropper and it was rather unpleasant to hear the simple solution of -Yelena’s drama. But, while I was getting ready to leave, the conversation -continued and finally I didn’t go.... I just listened. - -“‘You see I’ve come,’ said Yelena.... ‘What do you want?’ - -“Suddenly, with such a deep and simple grief, she added: - -“‘You’ve been torturing me....’ - -“She said this ... with such a sincere and heartfelt groan. Before, yes, -and after, she always spoke formally to him, but that time ... a woman’s -heart, sick with shame and love, used the form of affection,—frankly, -unconditionally, freely.... - -“‘You’ve tortured me, too, Yelena Petrovna,’ answered Gavrilo. ‘I’ve lost -my strength. I’ve dried up. I can’t work and I can’t eat....’ - -“‘What are you going to do now?’ asked Yelena. - -“‘What?’ he said. ‘Marry you, of course.’ - -“For a few minutes neither spoke. Yelena seemed to be weeping softly. -And yet that silence was wonderfully clear, simple, frank. ‘You see the -situation: you’re no match for me; I would have worked for Budnikov as -well as I could, gone to the village, gotten a place, married and taken -some good girl.... But that’s past; willy nilly I want you as you are....’ - -“‘I’m lost,’ said Yelena softly. - -“‘Why, Yelena Petrovna,’ answered Gavrilo, with a grim tenderness.... ‘I -don’t see that you’re lost.... It’s just the same.... I can’t live.... -Like a corpse.... I can’t eat.... I’ve got no strength....’ - -“Yelena wept more loudly.... She was having a good cry. It seemed painful -but healing. Gavrilo said sternly: - -“‘Come, what are you going to do?... Are you coming?’ - -“Yelena apparently exerted herself, stopped weeping, and answered the -repeated question: - -“‘Do you fear God, Gavrilo Stepanich?’ - -“‘Why?’ asked Gavrilo. - -“‘You won’t find fault with me?’ - -“‘No,’ he said, ‘I won’t find fault with you. And I won’t let any -one else. If you’re serious in throwing this overboard forever.... -Forever.... I’ll trust you....’ - -“Silence. I didn’t hear Yelena’s answer. I only imagined that she must -have turned to the east, and perhaps there was an ikon in the room.... -She crossed herself.... Then she suddenly took his head in her arms and -I heard them kiss. That same instant Yelena ran out, rushed almost to -the house, but she suddenly stopped, opened the gate, and came into the -garden. - -“Then she caught sight of me.... But it didn’t embarrass her. She walked -up, stopped, and looked at me out of her happy eyes, and said: - -“‘Do you always take a walk mornings?... Friend....’ - -“Suddenly, overcome by her emotions, she came nearer, took hold of my -shoulders, shook me unceremoniously, looked into my eyes, and laughed.... -It was so naïve. She felt that I had been listening and saw nothing bad -in it.... When Gavrilo came out with his broom and also entered the -garden, she blushed and ran past him. Gavrilo looked after her with quiet -joy, and then his gaze fell on me. He bowed with his habitual quiet -politeness and commenced to sweep the path. He again showed that same -beautiful and effortless play of healthy, free muscles.... And I remember -how the monastery bell sounded for early matins,—it was Sunday. Gavrilo -stopped in a broad bay of the alley, took off his cap, held the broom in -his left hand, and crossed himself with his right. The whole seemed to -me so extraordinarily bright and beautiful. The man stood in the centre -of a world of light, where everything was very good, that is, all his -relations to earth and heaven.... In a word, it was so soothing a sight -that I went to my room and fell fast asleep after so many sleepless -nights. There’s something healing and calming in honest human happiness. -You know it sometimes occurs to me that we are all bound to be well -and happy, because ... you see ... happiness is the highest possible -condition of spiritual health. And health is contagious like disease.... -We are so to speak open on all sides: to the sun, wind, and other things. -Others enter us, and we them, without noticing it.... And that’s why——” - -Pavel Semenovich suddenly stopped as he felt the fixed and cynical gaze -of Petr Petrovich. - -“Yes, yes!... Excuse me,” he said, “this is really a little unclear....” - -“It is a little. You’d better go on. Without philosophy....” - -“ ... M. Budnikov woke me up. It happened to be the twentieth. He came -as usual, and as usual he drank two cups of tea with rum, but I saw that -M. Budnikov was out of humor, and even nervous.... And I involuntarily -connected it with the incident of the morning. - -“For some time he kept out of sorts and every one around noticed that -something secret and hidden had gone wrong between master and servant. -Gavrilo wanted to leave.... Budnikov would not let him go, although he -often told me that he was disappointed in Gavrilo. As I was walking -one day through the garden, I saw them both standing by the gate and -talking. Budnikov was excited; Gavrilo, calm. He was standing in an easy -position and kept looking at his spade, which was stuck in the ground. -He was evidently insisting on something which enraged Budnikov.... But I -thought that the subject of conversation created between them a strange -equality.... - -“‘Yes, friend, of course, it’s your business,’ said M. Budnikov. He -caught sight of me but did not think it necessary to change the subject. -He spoke spitefully and angrily.... ‘Yes.... You’re a free man.... But -just remember, Gavrilo Stepanich, if you have any utilitarian object, ... -I, of course, can give only a very small sum....’ - -“M. Budnikov was unable to speak simply, and used foreign words, even -when talking to Gavrilo.... Gavrilo looked at him calmly and answered: - -“‘We don’t want anything.... We have enough....’ - -“M. Budnikov glanced cautiously at him and answered: - -“‘Fine! Remember! Afterwards.... I’ll go to Petersburg on business.... Do -what you want to.’ - -“Gavrilo bowed and said: - -“‘I thank you....’ - -“‘Excuse me,’ replied M. Budnikov, with a shadow of ironical melancholy, -‘I don’t expect gratitude.’ - -“He slammed the gate and left the garden. - -“He stopped and waited for me in the yard, took my arm, and came up to my -rooms. On the way, and in my apartments, he kept talking confusedly and -incoherently. He did not conceal the fact that he had had some affection -for a certain woman. This might be still ‘alive under the ashes.’ ... On -the other hand he was dreaming of union and the possibility of friendship -with his humblest brother. Although both of these feelings had led to his -disillusionment, he could show something, so that every one would feel -it.... But in general, magnanimity and the finer feelings belong only to -highly cultured people.... - -“He was nervous and under his rather artificial pathos, I could see his -real exasperation and anger. - -“I later had a chance to see his diary. These were separate pages, -written like letters to his distant friend.... Apparently he hadn’t sent -any letters for a long time, but these pages were like lights in the -darkness. Under the approximate day of the conversation with Gavrilo was -a passionate note. He told the whole story of Yelena, and wrote that -he had made a mistake, and that he now loved her.... And that he would -try once more.... This ended with a sudden burst of poetry: ‘My distant -friend, you, of course, do not doubt that I will do what I consider the -duty of magnanimity....’ - -“Then, sending Gavrilo one day with the horse somewhere outside the city, -M. Budnikov went to the wing where Yelena still lived. - -“‘Yelena! You should come to me. You must fix up something....’ - -“A few days before this he had been thoughtful and solemn, but now he -dressed in style, went to the wing, and entered Yelena’s room, without -heeding the inquisitive looks of his tenants. - -“No one knew what happened in that room, but a half-hour later M. -Budnikov came out, stubborn, affected, but apparently dazed. Every one -began to say that he had formally proposed to Yelena and—she had rejected -him. - -“After this he left for Petersburg, where he had a lawsuit before the -Senate. He lost it, and when he returned, Gavrilo and Yelena were already -married. - - -V - -“This made a great impression upon him, like some great spiritual -conversion. One apparently insignificant circumstance especially -surprised him. Every spring flowers grew by the wall under M. Budnikov’s -windows. This Yelena did regularly, and it was put down as an annual -source of expense: seed, a watering pot, to a blacksmith for mending the -spade.... In the early spring Yelena used to set to work at it, gladly -and merrily, and M. Budnikov took a delighted interest in it. Now that -wing was neglected, the flower bed languished, M. Budnikov’s windows -seemed blind.... But the other wing, where Gavrilo and his wife lived, -bloomed and flourished. A symbol. When M. Budnikov came back from the -station and took one look at this unexpected contrast his face changed, -and for a short time he lost his usual aristocratic air. I suddenly -felt sorry for him. I went out and invited him into my room. He sat with -me a long time and gave me his impressions of the capital,—verbose, -rambling, insincere. I kept feeling that M. Budnikov’s soul was thinking -of something very far removed from his impressions of the capital. - -“Gradually everything drifted back into the old channels. M. Budnikov -still went twice a week to his farm, still visited his tenants on certain -days, still prepared his dinner on an oil stove. But there were more -trifles in his diary; for example, he began to note down how many steps -he took each day, and apparently counted thereby the use and value of -various things. - -“In a short time another change took place: M. Budnikov felt attracted to -religion. - -“I remember one fall evening.... It was one of those evenings when nature -touches your soul especially. The stars seem to be waving and whispering -in the heavens, and the earth is covered with light and shade.... Our -little city, as you know, is quiet and filled with foliage. You go out -in the evening and sit down on your steps. And so with the other houses -along the street; here’s one person on a bench by the gate, another on -the dirt bank, another on the grass.... People are whispering about -themselves, the trees about themselves,—and there’s a hardly perceptible -hum. Yes, and something’s whispering in your soul. You unconsciously -review your whole life. What was and what is left, where you came from, -what’s going to happen? Then, everything ... the meaning of your life in -the general economy of nature, so to speak, ... nature, where all the -stars sink, unnumbered, unlimited, ... they gleam and shine.... And speak -to your soul. Sometimes it’s sad and deep and quiet.... You feel you’re -going to the wrong place. You begin to think what’s there above.... You -want to run away from this reproving beauty, this exalted calm, with your -load of confusion, and you want to melt away in it.... You’ve no place to -go.... You enter your office, look at all your things in the lamp-light -... text-books, copy-books with answers written by your pupils.... And -you ask: where’s there anything alive?...” - -Petr Petrovich muttered something and the narrator stopped again. - -“Well ... that was the way I felt and I was sitting on my steps and -thinking: here’s the people coming from vespers.... What of it? That’s -the way they find their relations to the infinite.... Or else it’s -nothing but habit, mere automatic motion. I prefer it to be real. -Suddenly I saw one man leave the crowd and come towards me. It turned out -to be M. Budnikov. He had been to vespers. He sat down beside me. - -“I felt that M. Budnikov was waiting, you know, for me to ask him -why he went to church. He never had gone and was always sarcastic -about religion, but now he had suddenly commenced to go. I was really -interested and the evening led me to be frank.... Why not say, I thought, -that there’s a cloud on my soul.... - -“Yes, Semen Nikolayevich, ...” I said ... “I look at the sky and think.... - -“He nodded and commenced: - -“‘That tortured me, too ... and I suffered.... And like you, I saw no -solution. But the solution is so plain....’ - -“He pointed toward the church, a white spot showing through the trees. - -“‘We, intelligent people,’” he said, “‘are frightened, so to speak, by -the beaten path, banality. But,—we must drop our pride and fuse ... or -as Tolstoy once said,—partake of the common cup, search with the humble -faith of humanity ... cease examining the foundations of life.... Like -Antaeus, so to speak, we must touch our common mother....’ - -“He spoke rather nicely. His voice was so sleepy and murmured like the -bass in the episcopal choir. I’ll tell you the truth: I felt envious.... -Really you could feel the quiet and blessing.... As M. Budnikov said, it -was worth while to fuse, and all these searchings of the heart are healed -as by the holy oil. Suddenly I found the lost meaning. I asked myself: -what’s the use of these books? Why all these notes, all this quiet -life?... Why is this bootmaker solemn and satisfied? Mikhailo looks for -no special meaning, but he floats along with the general current of life, -that is, he agrees with its general significance and meaning. People -go maybe once a week into this little white building which looks out -so attractive through the trees; they spend a little time in communion -with some mystery—and see, for a week they are supplied with the idea of -meaning.... And many live a harder life than I do.... - -“There’s M. Budnikov.... Had he really found _this_ for himself and -solved his troubles? I almost asked, but our priest went by just then. M. -Budnikov bowed and he returned it pleasantly. And he looked at me with -questioning kindness.... Budnikov has been converted and may bring back -another wanderer. I answered the bow rather warmly and gratefully, and -again felt like asking M. Budnikov, but another person of an entirely -different character put in an appearance....” - - -VI - -Pavel Semenovich thought for a moment and then asked Petr Petrovich: - -“Did Rogov ever study with you?” - -“Rogov ... I don’t remember ... I’ve had so many....” - -“He was remarkable and our council often discussed him.... His fate was -peculiar.... You see, the boy’s father was a rascal of the old school, -a slanderer, drunkard and a quarrelsome fellow, and as much bothered by -modern times as a wolf is by hunters. He came too late. Rough manners -unfitted for the present times. He spent his last days in trouble, -poverty, and drunkenness. He always thought that fate did not treat -him fairly; people got along well, but he, as he thought,—a model of -activity,—was dirty, hungry and oppressed.... And imagine,—this man had a -family ... a wife and son.... - -“The wife was irresponsible; her whole being had been crushed in the -full sense of the word, except one corner of her soul. When anything -concerned her son, a door seemed to open into her completely stupefied -soul, which was like a citadel uncaptured in the midst of a fallen city, -and so much wifely heroism came out through this gate that at times the -old ruffian and drunkard put his tail between his legs. God knows what -this cost her, but she succeeded just the same in giving her son an -education. When I went to teach in Tikhodol, I found this fellow in the -last class. He was a bashful, apparently modest boy and behaved quietly; -but his eyes had such an expression, strange, restrained; I confess it -made you uneasy: a curious fire, like the flame of a restless, internal -conflagration. His thin, drawn face was always pale and a crop of brown -hair fell over his rough forehead. He learned easily, made few friends -among his schoolmates, seemed to hate his father and loved his mother -almost abnormally. - -“Now ... excuse me.... I must say a few words about myself. Otherwise -you won’t understand a lot of what’s coming.... I’d only been teaching -a very few years and had the usual idea.... I looked at my calling as -noble, so to speak, from the ideal point of view. My companions seemed -a holy regiment, yes ... the gymnasium almost a temple.... You know, -young people feel that way and value it highly.... You run to this light -with every trouble and every question.... It’s the living soul of our -business.... What shall I say, when he comes to you, a fellow with his -young soul under his uniform with all its buttons sewed on.... I, the -teacher, need him with his questions and errors.... And he needs me to -search and study.... Honestly you want to guide them....” - -The narrator paused and continued in a low voice: - -“That’s the way it was with me.... I got intimate with several boys from -my classes, among them Rogov.... Gave them books, and they visited me. -You understand, over a samovar, simply, heart to heart. I remember this -as the finest time of my life.... Every time you open a new journal, -you find conversation, discussion, argument. I listened, without -interfering at first, to the way they wandered and argued, and then I -explained,—carefully but pleasantly. You see, you get one thought and -then another, and again it comes so sharp that it scratches you.... And -you feel how you need to restrain yourself and think and study. And you -grow with them.... And live.... - -“It didn’t last long. One day my director called me in for a confidential -conversation.... Well, you know the rest.... This ‘extracurricular’ -influence of the leaders of youth does not enjoy protection. Journals -already!... The director, you know him,—Nikolay Platonovich Popov,—is a -fastidious man.... He merely hinted and afterwards acted as if he really -knew nothing.... I almost got angry; at first I even refused to obey, -and appealed to the highest understanding of my obligations. Then ... I -saw that it was no use. The main point was that I wasn’t the only one -getting talked about: the boys were getting a bad reputation.... That was -hard and difficult enough but what could I say to my young disputants? -How could I explain it? I obeyed the evidently senseless and humiliating -order! This was the first blow that life had dealt me and I did not -notice at the time that I had received a mortal wound. - -“I obeyed and stopped my evening discussions. I can conscientiously say -that I thought even more about them. But youths, you know, don’t obey so -easily and can’t understand the whole meaning. One evening this Rogov -came to me with a companion. Secretly. Flushed faces, blazing eyes, and -a peculiar look.... I stopped this kind of fellowship. ‘No,’ I said, -‘gentlemen, we’d better stop it.’ I saw that both boys were getting -worked up. Rogov began to say something, but he had a convulsion of the -throat and his eyes suddenly took on an evil expression.... I found a -way to justify myself: I was afraid for them, especially for Rogov and -his mother.... You see, if our conspiracies were discovered, his whole -career—and his mother’s heroism—would have gone for nothing. So I yielded -... for the first time.... - -“In place of this I tried to make my lessons as interesting as possible. -My evenings were free.... It was boring. I’d begun to get accustomed to -my young circle. And now—nothing. I went for my books. Worked like a -dog and kept thinking: this must be interesting to them; it will be new -and it answers such and such questions.... I read and dug in my books, -collected everything interesting, attractive, that pushed apart the -official walls and the official lessons.... I kept thinking of those -conversations.... And I thought I was getting results.... I remember -the whole class almost died from zeal.... Suddenly the director began -to attend the lessons. He’d come in, sit down, and listen without -saying a word.... You know what happened next. You act as if it were -nothing, but both you and the class feel it’s not a lesson but a sort of -investigation.... Again delicate questions on the side: ‘Really, excuse -me, but where did you get this? Out of what official text book? How do -you think this agrees with the courses of study?’ - -“I’ll be brief.... In a word, the enthusiasm finally died out of -me.... The class became merely a class: the living people began to -retire further and further; they disappeared in a sort of fog.... I -lost intellectual contact. Remarks ... plan ... the enumeration of the -stylistic beauties of a live work. In this there are twelve beauties. -First ... second ... and so on.... It fitted the program.... That is, you -understand, I didn’t notice how I dried up just like Budnikov. - -“Anyway this young fellow finished his course and went to the capital.... -He didn’t get into the university right away. It was the time of secret -denunciations.... Perhaps my lectures were suspicious. To sum up,—he lost -a year. He wrote his mother that he had entered and had a fellowship, but -he really beat his way along, was poor and probably got disgusted. Then -he began to tramp. Suddenly he had a great sorrow: his mother died before -he could get home. As soon as her son left home, she began to waste -away.... The guiding star of her life, so to speak, disappeared from the -horizon—and she lost the power of resistance. Died of consumption, you -know, quickly, almost gladly. ‘Vanya doesn’t need me any more,’ she’d -say. ‘I got him on the right track, thank God. He’ll get along now.’ -She said the Nunc Dimittis and died. Soon after they found the honored -father in a ditch. And my Rogov was an orphan.... - -“The old woman was really in too much of a hurry; her son really needed -her more than ever. He learned well and eagerly, so to speak, without -wasting his time, as if he were hurrying somewhere. When he heard of -his mother’s death, something broke in his soul.... In turn she seemed -to have been the only ideal in his life. ‘I’ll finish, get on my feet, -revive my shattered truth: even though she’s ready to die, mother’ll -know that there is divine blessing, love, and gratitude.... For a year, -a month, even a week.... An instant even, for her heart to be filled and -melted with joy.’ Suddenly, in place of everything, the grave.... A crash -... and it’s all over! There’s no need of gratitude, nothing to go back -to, to correct.... You’ve got to have strength to stand such a temptation -without being shattered.... You need faith in the general meaning of -life.... It mustn’t seem to you but blind chance.... - -“He didn’t hold on. He had no support.... He changed, got rough, and -began to drink in with his wine a poisonous feeling of insult and of the -injustice of fate.... So it went. He threw up his examinations—what was -the use of getting a diploma? He drifted along like an empty boat on a -river.... He came back to our city.... Perhaps he wanted to tie up by his -mother’s grave.... But how could that help him?... If he’d tried to find -some meaning, that would have been another thing.... And so ... he got in -court a certificate, ‘to travel’ on business, and followed his father’s -footsteps. He lived a dissolute life, spent his time in saloons, with -worthless people, and engaged in business of the most shady character. -One year of this life,—and he’d become a drunken, impudent bum, the -enfant terrible of our peaceful city, a menace to the citizens. The devil -knows how, but the bashful boy became insolent and diabolically clever: -every one in the city was afraid of him.... It’s strange, but there isn’t -a city in Russia without its Rogov. A sort of a state character. It was -quiet everywhere, peaceful slumber, idyllic calm, M. Budnikov walking -along the streets, obstinate, conceited, counting his steps.... Evenings, -especially on holidays, these poetic murmurs, and there’s a lot of noise -from some saloon like our ‘On the Crags,’ and some misshapen, sick and -desperate soul carousing.... Satellites around, of course. This is a -natural and necessary detail to fill up the provincial corners, so to -speak.... - -“Rogov met me soon after he turned up.... He bowed shyly and went to -one side, especially when he was drunk. One time I met him, spoke to -him, and asked him in.... He came ... sober, serious, even bashful ... -from old habit, of course.... But we didn’t stick together. Memories -parted us: I was a young teacher with a lively faith in my calling, -with lively feelings and words: He was a young man, still pure and -respecting my moral authority.... Now he was Vanka Rogov, a Tikhodol -bum, engaged in shady business.... And I.... In a word, we seemed to be -parted by a solid wall: the main reason of all I won’t mention. I felt -that I had to shatter the barrier, tell him something that would reach -his soul and control it as I used to.... He seemed to be waiting for -this in terror: waiting for the cruel blow.... His eyes showed his pain -and expectation.... I didn’t have the strength. It was gone, ... lost -probably when for the first time we parted in shame.... - -“I had to watch like a sympathetic witness, so to speak, how this young -fellow degraded himself, grew fast, drank, and defiled himself.... He -got insolent, lost all sense of shame. Then I heard that Rogov was an -extortioner and begging. Business was poor; he was on the border between -the merely offensive and the criminal. He was as clever as an acrobat -and laughed at everything. In two or three years he was absolutely -transformed. He had become a menacing, dirty, and very unpleasant figure. - -“Sometimes he’d come when he was drunk.... It’s strange: but I seemed to -feel more at home when he was that way.... It simplified matters, his -fault was evident, and it was easier to draw a moral. I remember after -one of his descents into the loathsome, I said to him: - -“‘This and that’s not right, Rogov.’ - -“He shrugged his shoulders, turned away his eyes, as if he was afraid of -a moral beating; then he shook his hair, looked me straight in the eye, -obviously relying on his impudence: - -“‘What’s wrong, Pavel Semenovich?’ - -“‘It’s disgraceful,’ I said. - -“‘You know,’ he said, ‘I’ve changed one quarrelsome goal for another not -less quarrelsome. That was wrong and now it’s disgraceful. My theory -works out all right for me,’ he said. ‘Honor and everything like that -is nothing but dessert. You know it comes after dinner. If there’s no -dinner, what’s the use of dessert?...’ - -“‘But, remember, Rogov,’ I said, ‘why you have no dinner.... You studied -well, had a good start, and then suddenly went wrong....’ - -“That moment I thought my statement was not only convincing but -incontrovertible.... And he looked at me, laughed, and said: - -“‘You’ve sometimes played billiards a little, haven’t you?’ - -“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I play for relaxation....’ - -“‘You know the downward stroke?’ - -“‘Yes.’ You know that’s a peculiar and paradoxical shot. The ball first -goes forward and then it suddenly and apparently of its own accord rolls -back.... At first sight it seems incomprehensible and a violation of the -laws of motion, but it’s really simple. - -“‘Well, what do you think?’ he asked. ‘Has the ball a will of its own? -No.... It’s merely a contest between two different motions.... One rules -in the beginning, the other later.... Now you see,’ he said, ‘all her -life my mother went straight but father, as you know, spun around like a -top. That’s why I went straight at first, as long as my mother’s impulse -lasted.... I hadn’t gotten my bearings, when I swung round to father’s -pattern.... There’s my whole story....’ - -“He spoke frankly and hopelessly. He dropped his head, shook his hair -down over his face, and then, when he looked at me again, I felt -uneasy. His eyes showed his pain. Did you ever see a sick animal?... A -dog,—usually an affectionate brute, is willing then to bite its master. - -“‘Now,’ he said, ‘whom do you think’s to blame?’ - -“‘I don’t know, Rogov. I’m not your judge.... It’s not a question of -blame....’ - -“‘Not of blame, what then? I think he’s to blame who started me off with -that shot.... That means to condemn no one. I’m a case of downward stroke -in life.... I do the will of Him that sent me.... So there you are, my -dear Pavel Semenovich.... Have you got two grivens of silver? I want to -drown my sorrow....’ - -“This was the first time that he had asked me for two grivens and I -instantly felt that the old barrier between us had been broken. Now he -could insult me as he would any one else. - -“I wanted to defend myself. - -“‘No, Rogov. I won’t give you two grivens. Come any time you feel -like.... I’m glad to see you.... But this is impossible....’ - -“He dropped his shaggy head, sat down, and said dully: - -“‘Yes, Pavel Semenovich. Excuse me. I’ll come without begging. Yet to sit -down with you, I feel easier and free from my usual load.’ - -“He sat still. A long, strained silence ensued. Then he said: - -“‘There was a time ... when I hoped to receive something from you.... You -don’t know what you meant to me. Even now I sometimes feel I must see -you. You’re waiting for something.... No.... It’s hopeless.... A downward -stroke and it’s all over....’ - -“‘Excuse me, Rogov,’ I said. ‘You’re really misusing that example from -billiards. You’re not an ivory ball but a living man.’ - -“‘And for that reason, I feel.... As for a ball,—wherever you send -it,—into a pocket or a hole, that ivory ball doesn’t care.... But a man, -most esteemed Pavel Semenovich, finds it hard to be pocketed.... Do -you think that any one willingly and voluntarily refuses dessert?... I -wouldn’t.... I’m a man with reflexes, as they say. I see and examine my -trajectory clear to the end.... I’ll become a pig of pigs and I can’t -reform. At times I think ... perhaps ... somehow ... somewhere ... there -may be some ... point of support.... Sometimes you get irritated ... -really.... Where is truth ... reality?... Is there such a thing, Pavel -Semenovich?’ - -“‘Of course there is,’ I answered. - -“‘How sincerely you spoke. There must be, of course ... there is.... -But where? Excuse me, I don’t want to catch you.... You don’t know -yourself. You looked once and stopped. That’s why I’ll only ask you for -two grivens. Sometimes I may be sitting by a fire.... You’re a man with a -soul.... Another time, perhaps, I’ll be able to get more out of you....’ - -“‘Listen here,’ I said to him. ‘Think now, can I really help you in any -way?’ I felt that there was something to him.... He was rather touched, -was not insolent.... He became thoughtful and dropped his head. - -“‘No,’ he replied, ‘it can’t be done. You’re not to blame, friend. -Because ... I, and every one like me, is very greedy. Like swine we -wallow in the mire, and we want any one who helps us to be whiter than -snow.... You need a lot of strength, friend. You haven’t enough.... A -storm is necessary.... To breathe fire.... There are miracles.... But -you.... You’re not angry at me?...’ - -“‘Angry? Why?’ - -“We both stopped talking. I had nothing to say to him, he began again to -walk around, but he gradually recovered his former manner. He came and -sat down and he showed his brandy. The next Saturday he came in the same -condition and sat down beside me on the steps. Just then the bell rang -for vespers. In a short time M. Budnikov came out of the gate. Dandy, -you know how he is, stubborn as ever, perfectly self-satisfied.... He -breathes forth the consciousness of duty well done. - -“I remember what an unpleasant effect he produced upon me. Rogov’s face -suddenly changed. He jumped up, adopted a theatrical pose, took off his -cap, and said: - -“‘To M. Budnikov, Semen Nikolayevich, on his way to vespers is extended -the most respectful greeting of Vanka Rogov. - -“Then with a sweeping wave of his cap, he began to sing—from a well-known -romance: - - “‘_I can n-no l-longer pay at all...._ - _Remem-mber me, m-my friend beloved...._’ - -“This buffoonery was too much.... I felt that I disliked Budnikov, but -yet.... He was insulting a man on a point which from every angle and in -any case should have won his respect. Yelena soon came out of the gate -and also started for church. He sang to me: - - “‘_Ophelia! Nymph! Remember me_ - _In those most sacred prayers of thine._’ - -“This made me really angry. Yelena quailed before the impudent stare and -insolent, even if unintelligible words. She dropped her head and quickly -walked to church. - -“‘Listen, Rogov,’ I said. ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself! I must -tell you ... if you want to come here, I humbly beg you to act more -decently....’ - -“He turned and I saw in his eyes a peculiar expression—of evil pain. He -felt like biting me.... - -“I tried to soften the bitterness of my words and said: - -“‘Rogov, you don’t know these people, nor their relations, and yet you -venture to insult them....’ - -“He smiled at me and replied: - -“‘You’re thinking of the idyl? The kindly M. Budnikov made two hearts -happy. Why, here’s Gavryushenka.’ - -“In truth, Gavrilo had just come out of the gate. Rogov beckoned to him -rather hostilely.... - -“‘I congratulate you, Gavryushenka, ... on your master’s leavings.... -Wise fellow! You knew where the crabs winter.... In case of necessity, -you may depend upon my legal knowledge....’ - -“Surprising how these cynics find things out. Evidently Rogov knew the -whole story and suspected Gavrilo of having mercenary motives.... - -“He walked up and patted him on the shoulder.... Gavrilo got angry and -pushed Rogov away violently. Rogov almost fell down, laughed, and, with -pretended indifference, started along the path. He came up to me, stopped -and said: - -“‘Most esteemed Pavel Semenovich.... I want to ask you a question: -haven’t you read ... it’s in Xenophon ... the conversation between -Alcibiades and Pericles?... If you haven’t, I recommend it most highly. -Although it’s in a dead language, it’s instructive.’ - -“He went off singing an indecent song. A little while after I hunted up -this dialogue. I wondered what he meant.... - -“You know it’s a hard but a powerful piece. The subject’s about like -this: Young Alcibiades went one day to Pericles.... Remember, Pericles -was already a famous man and enjoyed the confidence of every one ... -because of past services and a certain air of benevolence.... Anyway -his position was secure. Alcibiades was a rascal, worthless, drunkard, -in all sorts of scandals with Athenian girls, cut off dogs’ tails, as -you know ... A man of no reputation for well-doing. Well, one day, this -rogue of a young fellow went up to Pericles and said: ‘Listen, Pericles, -you’re a man chock full of benefactions clear to the top of your head, -you may say. I’m wandering off the road and twisting up everything, for -I have nothing to do. Every one’s angry at me. I want you to explain -everything to me.’ Pericles, of course, was willing and thought it was -a good idea to talk to the young man. He might bring him to his senses. -So he said: ‘Go ahead and ask what you want.’ Then came the question: -‘What is doing well? How do you learn it?’ Pericles, of course, laughed: -‘Honor the gods, obey the laws, and do your duty. To obey the laws is the -first duty of a citizen and a man.’ ‘Fine,’ answered the young fellow. -‘Tell me, please, which laws am I to obey: the bad or the good ones?’ -Pericles was almost insulted. ‘If a law’s a law, it’s good. What are you -talking about?’ ‘No,’ said Alcibiades, ‘wait and don’t get angry.’ ... -You know at this time in Athens all these principles were mixed up ... -parties, struggle, some robbing others, ostracism, a sort of banishment -by administrative order ... usurpers ... favorites ... there really -was confusion,—a man jumped forward and drew up his own laws for his -own advantage or for his relatives and friends. Then old gods were all -mixed up, the oracles answered anything, provided it didn’t apply to the -subject. In a word, everything that was clear in life had become unclear: -there was no equilibrium, no generally acknowledged truth.... A new -system was necessary. Clouds covered the sky and there were no stars to -steer by.... That was why Alcibiades asked what laws should be obeyed; -those which prescribe good or bad. Of course, Pericles answered the good. -‘How can I tell which are good? What is the mark, so to speak?’ ‘Obey -all! That’s what laws are for!...’ ‘That means laws passed by the power -of tyrants?’ ‘No, you don’t need to obey those....’ ‘I see, only lawful -laws, so to speak. Fine! But suppose the minority coerces the majority -to its own advantage, don’t I need to obey those laws?’ ‘Of course not.’ -‘But if the majority coerce the minority, is that contrary to right?...’ -You see what the young fellow was driving at: he didn’t need external -signs, but he showed that he needed to feel in his soul universal truth, -the highest truth, so to speak, the truth of life, sanctity.... Pericles, -you see, hadn’t understood this.... Not merely Pericles, the whole -country rested on slavery, on past wrong.... Religion had dried up, the -old sanctity which had consecrated every step, every motion, the whole -order, all human relationships,—people had ceased to feel it.... But -Pericles argued around.... He didn’t want to confess that their laws had -died.... He patted the dissolute young fellow on the shoulder with a -great deal of condescension and said: ‘Yes, yes.... I see you’ve got a -head on your shoulders. Years ago we used to settle such hard questions.’ -... Well, Alcibiades saw that Pericles was, so to speak, a recognized -authority, was quibbling over trifles, didn’t treat these conflicts as -anything alive,—and waved his hand. ‘I’m sorry, my dear sir, that I -didn’t know you then.... Now I’m bored; I’m going to fool along.’ - -“And that’s what he recommended to me, his former teacher....” - - -VII - -The narrator stopped. The train, which was approaching another station, -began to slow down. Petr Petrovich reached out his hand and said, as he -took his blue cap with a cockade from the hook: - -“I’m going again to get something to eat.... I confess, my dear Pavel -Semenovich, I don’t see what you’re driving at.... Excuse me, it’s -not philosophy, and God only knows what you are after. We began with -Budnikov. All right, we know him.... Now the devil knows who this Rogov -is, a worn-out rogue, and now I don’t know whether you’re talking of -Xenophon or Alcibiades.... Cutting off dogs’ tails.... The devil knows -what you mean.... Kindly allow me to ask how all this concerns me.... -Just as you wish.... I’d better go and get some more vodka....” - -He put on his cap, and, holding on to the wall because of the jolting -of the train, he went out of the compartment. Just at that moment the -fourth passenger on the other upper bench stirred. He had been lying in -the shadow, smoking now and then, and he seemed to be interested in the -story. He got down, took a seat beside us and said: - -“Excuse me, I haven’t the honor of being acquainted, but I couldn’t help -hearing your story and it interested me. So, if you have no objections.” - -Pavel Semenovich looked at him. He was a cultured man, carefully dressed, -with intelligent eyes which looked steadily through a pair of gold -glasses which he was constantly adjusting. - -“Yes?” said Pavel Semenovich. “I see, you heard this....” - -“Yes. It interested me.... Your point of view, I confess, I don’t -understand fully....” - -“Really, it wasn’t any too clear.... I meant ... that in reality -everything is so related.... And this mutual relationship....” - -“Presupposes mutual responsibility?” - -Pavel Semenovich’s face suddenly beamed with joy. - -“There! You understand it?... Yes, general.... Not before Ivan or -Petr.... Everything is connected, so to speak.... One man carelessly -throws away a brandy cork and another slips on it and breaks his leg.” - -The new acquaintance listened attentively. Just then Petr Petrovich came -back. He had been mistaken as to the place and with an ironical glance at -both, he said, as he hung up his cap: - -“Well, now,—what do you want with a cork?” - -“No, Petr Petrovich,” said Pavel Semenovich seriously, “you’re wrong.... -The question is, so to speak——” - -“You find questions everywhere in the simplest things,” said Petr -Petrovich. “Don’t bother about me. You’ve got a large enough audience.” - -“Go on, please,” said the gentleman with the gold glasses. - -“If you wish.... I’ll be more than glad, for I’ve got to get it off my -mind. I stopped——” - -“You stopped,” said Petr Petrovich laughingly, “with Alcibiades.... A -story, so to speak, from the Ancient Times. Now for the Middle Ages....” - -Pavel Semenovich paid no attention to this sally and turned to the new -member of the group: - -“You see how it was. The thing was this way: Gavrilo was married and -living by himself.... In M. Budnikov’s table still lay the ticket with -the two lines.... There were ugly rumors about it and, of course, they -were exaggerated. Gavrilo was the only one who didn’t know of them. -He kept on working as before, did all he could, and tried.... He was -a muscular symphony in performance, with his eyes full of general -satisfaction and good humor.... - -“And then Rogov suddenly turned up. He was walking along the path by the -yard; he stopped, thought a moment, and called Gavrilo. - -“He was a good-hearted Russian.... He had pushed Rogov away a little -while before, but afterwards he thought no more of it. ‘What do you -want?’ he asked. ‘Come here, it’s something that concerns you. You’ll -thank me for it.’ - -“I’ll confess, something warned me. I felt like calling to Rogov and -stopping him, for I was sure he was up to some mischief. But it was after -the Alcibiades episode ... and I had no hope in my influence. I stayed at -the window. I saw Gavrilo leave his shovel, go up and listen. At first -his face showed that he did not comprehend and almost did not care. Then, -with the same air of uncertainty, he took off his apron, went into the -house, put on his cap and rejoined Rogov. Both walked down the street and -turned down the hill toward the river. A moment later Yelena came out to -the gate, stood and looked after the two men.... Her eyes looked sad and -frightened.... - -“From that day on Gavrilo’s character changed sharply. He came back -apparently rather drunk.... Perhaps from vodka, perhaps from the weight -of an unbearable burden which Rogov had suddenly put on his shoulders.... -In the first place, the amount was absolutely staggering: a mountain of -money more than he could count. Then the source of the wealth reminded -him of Yelena’s past. Finally he couldn’t understand why she had never -mentioned it and this may have given rise to evil suspicions.... You -see it was like an explosion in his mind.... Those two lines which M. -Budnikov had made on the ticket kept sinking deeper and deeper into -Gavrilo’s soul.... The simple-hearted man was absolutely upset. The whole -symphony of directness and labor was suddenly interrupted.... Gavrilo -wandered around in confusion, as if he had been poisoned.... - -“It began to break him down.... At first he walked about grimly with -his face clouded. His work began to fall from his hands: he threw down -his axe and broke his spade.... Just like a well-built machine into -which some one has hurled a bolt.... When Budnikov in surprise began -to administer mild rebukes, that shovels cost money and he would have -to take it out of Gavrilo’s wages, that easy-going man answered with -unintelligible and unreasonable rudeness.... And Yelena wept more and -more.... - -“Then Gavrilo began to drink and carouse and his usual abode became the -dirty den, the ‘Crags’ on the bank, on the sand near the wharf.... This -was a small wooden house with a second floor, dark, tilting to one side -and propped up with beams. You could see it from the bank; evenings there -were usually two lighted windows and the open door, cymbals clashed, and -there was a lot of fiddling to amuse the guests.... From time to time, -you could hear confused shouts—both songs and quarrels and calls for the -police. It was an eternally restless place and rather threatening. The -very antithesis of the drowsy country life.... Bargemen from our modest -and usually idle wharf, workmen from the brickyards like moles which -had burrowed in the damp clay, professional beggars ... in a word, the -homeless, unfortunate, dissipated, and evil. Even the decent members of -the proletariat shunned this place. And that’s where Rogov took Gavrilo. -And Yelena was the next to learn the road to the ‘Crags’ so as to bring -her husband home.... - -“She did this surprisingly modestly, quietly, yes, even beautifully. Once -I was coming home from my lessons and as I entered the gate I saw Yelena -running toward me and fastening a kerchief on her head. - -“‘Where are you going, Yelena?’ - -“A moment’s hesitation. - -“‘You haven’t seen Gavrilo Stepanich go this way, have you?’ she asked. - -“‘He must have.... But you shouldn’t go there, Yelena.’ - -“I wanted to stop her.... But she swept past me angrily and with some -apparent pride went to look for Gavrilo Stepanich, her husband, and -she was his lawful wife.... In a half-hour I saw her bringing Gavrilo -Stepanich by the arm. He was leaning on her but walking and looking -straight ahead with dull, faded and perplexed eyes. But he was walking. -By the gate he suddenly straightened up, pushed away her hand and stared -at her.... His face was dark, but his faded eye had a decided look.... - -“‘Who are you? Tell me who you are?... Oh?’ - -“She stopped and dropped her hand in despair. I thought of that spring -morning and their mutual oaths: ‘Remember God, Gavrilo Stepanich!’ I -was terrified: he’ll forget right now, this very minute, I thought.... -Suddenly a spark of knowledge flickered up in his foolish face and he -swallowed hard. He didn’t say a word but went to his rooms silently.... -She followed him in terror, respectfully and humbly.... - -“So it went on: Rogov would beckon to Gavrilo, and he’d go off and -begin to carouse. This man got enormous power over Gavrilo, and Yelena -objected, humbly, respectfully, timidly, but constantly. She probably -looked upon all this as a punishment sent to her as an atonement for -her ‘sin.’ She grew thin, her nice plumpness disappeared, her eyes sank -deeper in her head.... But when I looked at them I never could decide to -call them stupid. Her suffering was always wonderfully intelligent like -that of a bird.... She’d go to the saloons after her drunken husband, -every one would laugh at her on the street, and make rough jokes about -her.... She felt no shame for herself.... Only once she whispered: -‘That’s not right, Gavrilo Stepanich, people are looking at you....’ - -“One time when she was taking him back from the ‘Crags,’ he broke away -from her, ran up to Budnikov’s door and began to kick it wildly. Yelena -almost dropped, and, as if she did not have the strength to go after -him, she watched him like a man with the nightmare, who sees coming at -him something terrible which he has been expecting but he can’t struggle -against it.... The door suddenly opened and M. Budnikov appeared.... Calm -and haughty with an air of absolute superiority. To tell you the truth, I -was somewhat surprised.... Anyway, it was a delicate situation. I didn’t -know the details at the time, but I felt there was something wrong and -mistaken.... Suddenly clearness of vision, quiet, calm. And it wasn’t put -on. No,—that was easy to see.... It was merely absolute imperturbability. - -“‘What do you want, Gavrilo?’ he said. ‘What are you kicking for? Don’t -you know how to ring?... You see, here’s the bell....’ - -“He pointed to the bell handle. Gavrilo looked at it and became confused. -Yes, there was a knob and there was really no reason to kick.... M. -Budnikov continued from the top step: - -“‘Anyway, what are you thinking about and what do you want of me, you -r-rascal? Have I insulted you, dealt unjustly with you, held up your pay -for even one day? Yet you kicked.... All right, here I am.... What do you -want?’ - -“Gavrilo didn’t say a word.... - -“‘Well, then, I’ll tell you a thing or two myself: the shovel’s broken -again, the walk isn’t swept, the horse hasn’t been watered.... The horse -is a dumb animal and can’t talk ... but just the same it’s alive and -feels.... Hear it whinney?...’ - -“This argument so overwhelmed Gavrilo that he turned, thoroughly and -definitely crushed, and went straight to the stable. In a minute, just as -if he were sober, he took the horse to the trough.... M. Budnikov quietly -locked his door and came out. As he came past my wall he guessed that I -had seen the whole affair, stopped, and with a sad shake of his head, -remarked: - -“‘Yes, every one’s talking of the people, the people.... How do they fall -in love with them?...’” - - -VIII - -“The scandal began to attract attention. It was talked about in the -city. Various opinions were held. Some defended Budnikov. Was it worth -while to believe mere rumors? Really no one knew anything. Some were -stupid stories; others, evident scandals and an unseemly breaking of -the general quiet.... But there was another side. People of the lower -classes sympathized with Gavrilo. They thought that the wise and strong -M. Budnikov must have filched from Gavrilo some sort of a talisman and -was now committing sorcery so that the talisman would lose its power.... -So dozens of eyes were turned to the windows of M. Budnikov and looked at -him as he passed, stubbornly and calmly, apparently unaware of the cloud -of misunderstanding, suspicion, condemnation, question, ... yes, sin, -which trailed after him. Every look expressed an evil thought and every -heart was heating with an evil feeling.... It was a peculiar sort of dark -cloud.... Hundreds of individual spiritual movements, confused, unclear, -but evil.... And all aimed at one centre.... - -“I must say Budnikov had been rather popular and enjoyed the respect of -all.... Even Rogov, when he happened to pass our yard and saw M. Budnikov -with a shovel or rake, always stopped and said: - -“‘M. Budnikov, Semen Nikolayevich, is working.... He who works shall eat.’ - -“Or: - -“‘M. Budnikov is helping his neighbor, the porter, with the work of his -hands. Most laudable!’ - -“Then he passed on as by an object to which he was indifferent or at -which he was pleasantly amused. - -“Now, that was all changed.... It gave me a physical sensation ... like -a nightmare. As if those two lines ... or something in the character -of M. Budnikov had polluted the atmosphere.... It was almost an -hallucination.... You’re going to or from the gymnasium ... thinking -out your remarks.... You suddenly feel that M. Budnikov is following -you with his measured tread and his self-satisfaction that comes from a -consciousness of duty performed.... Or you’re giving a lesson or reading -necessary notices and you absolutely hear Budnikov’s accents in your own -voice ... when he lays down to a beggar rules for work or preaches a -moral to Gavrilo over the broken shovel or advises me: ‘Lay aside pride -and be humble.’ ... - -“In this ordinary thing, this humble and apparently quiet life of -peaceful corners, there’s something terrible, ... specific, so to speak, -not easily noticeable, gray.... Really where are the rascals, sacrifices, -the right, the wrong?... You so want the fog to be pierced by even one -ray of living, absolute truth, which will not be founded on pencil lines, -but will be actually able to solve the riddle absolutely and completely -... the real truth, which even Rogov will acknowledge.... Do you -understand? - -“‘I think I do,’ said the gentleman in the glasses seriously. - -“Apparently M. Budnikov began to feel that something was wrong. He -cleaned up but, as often happens, he didn’t find the real question.... -He came to me once on the usual day, the twentieth. You understand I -gave him tea as usual.... He drank it as usual, but his expression was -different. Sad and solemn. He finished his business, carefully put away -the money in his pocketbook, marked it down, but didn’t leave.... He -began to talk round the bush ... about the abnormality of his life, ... -in particular about his loneliness, some mistake caused by prejudice and -pride.... Then he got talking of Yelena and Gavrilo. Gavrilo had turned -out to be utterly worthless and Yelena had made a mistake and was very -unhappy.... He felt responsible for letting her marry, but it was hard to -correct it.... It was harder still to fix it up with money.... What good -is money in the hands of a drunkard? And so on. All these subterfuges -showed me that M. Budnikov wanted to solve the whole riddle by recreating -the original situation, so to speak,—that is, to divorce Yelena from -Gavrilo and marry her himself.... That meant those two lines would be -wiped out and disappear.... Apparently ... he had already talked of this -with several people, among them Father Nikolay.... Now he wanted my -advice.... - -“‘Have you spoken to Yelena about this?’ I asked. - -“‘No, not yet.... I, perhaps, you may notice, don’t even go to see her, -so as not to make trouble.... But I know what she needs.... I have no -reason to doubt....’ - -“I tried to advance certain points, but M. Budnikov wouldn’t listen.... -He soon said good-by and left.... As if he feared for the integrity of -his whole plan of action.... - -“A little while after, when Gavrilo was away, some women of the parish -began to bob up at Yelena’s and Budnikov received members of the -consistory. Twice, toward evening, I saw Rogov leave Budnikov’s.... Then -I thought: so that’s what my young fellow is after; I see now why he’s -ruining Gavrilo; he’s fixing it so M. Budnikov can arrange the divorce.... - -“The whole situation seemed to me so disgraceful and hopeless that I -began to think of moving and simply getting away from the whole thing.... -I couldn’t sleep.... Again I began to walk around the garden. Once I -found Yelena in it.... She was lying on that same bench where I sat -that spring morning.... It was fall now.... Everything was dying and -growing bare.... Autumn, you know, is a terrible cynic. The wind breaks -off the leaves and laughs. They were lying on the muddy, damp earth. And -a woman was lying on the damp bench with her face down and crying. Yes, -she was crying bitterly.... Later I found out why: the arrangement of M. -Budnikov was absolutely impersonal. When she heard this proposition she -merely clasped her hands: ‘Let the earth swallow me up, let me dry up -like a chip.’ ... And so on.... ‘You’d better bury me alive with Gavrilo -Stepanich.’ ... And Gavrilo Stepanich didn’t spend the night at home. -That former pure happiness had perished and she didn’t know what to do. -A ticket ... two lines ... friends from the church, Budnikov, Rogov. She -was stupid and obedient and afraid that something would be done against -her will.... - -“I walked up to her ... wanted to comfort her. When I touched her and -felt her body tremble beneath my touch ... it seemed to me such a stupid -performance that I trembled, as if from impotent pity.... - -“I went away.... I forgot the whole thing and wanted to drop it and -leave. If M. Budnikov passed ... let him pass.... If Rogov was engaged -in dirty business, let him! If stupid Yelena wanted a drunken husband, -let her have one.... What did I care? What difference did it make who got -the ticket with the two lines, to whom those stupid lines gave rights?... -Everything was incomplete, accidental, disconnected, senseless and -disgusting....” - - -IX - -Pavel Semenovich stopped and looked out of the window as if he had -forgotten the story.... - -“Well, how did it end?” asked our new companion cautiously. - -“End?” The narrator woke up. “Of course, everything on the earth ends -some way. This ended stupidly and simply. One night ... my bell rang. -Sharply, anxiously, nervously.... I jumped up in fright, put on my -slippers ... went out on the steps ... there was no one there. But it -occurred to me that Rogov was around the corner. I thought he must have -been passing drunk and ugly and wanted to annoy me by coming at this -time.... He remembered that I was asleep and he, Vanichka Rogov, my -favorite pupil, was drunk on the street and wanted to inform me of it. I -closed the door, went back to bed, and fell asleep. The bell rang again. -I didn’t get up. Let him ring.... It rang again and again.... No, this -must be something else. I put on my overcoat.... Opened the door. There -stood the night watchman. His beard was covered with frost. ‘Please,’ he -said. - -“‘Where do you want me to go, brother?’ I asked. - -“‘To Semen Nikolayevich, M. Budnikov.... They’ve had ... trouble....’ - -“Without understanding anything, I dressed mechanically and went. A clear -cold night, and late.... There were lights in the windows of M. Budnikov, -whistles along the street.... What a stir for night.... I went up the -steps and entered. The first thing that caught my eye was the face of -Semen Nikolayevich, M. Budnikov.... Absolutely different, not at all like -what he was before. He was lying on his pillow and looking somewhere into -space.... That was so strange.... I stopped at the door and thought: -‘What’s this? I used to know him but he’s suddenly changed.... This isn’t -the man who came once a month and drank two glasses of tea. Who worried -over Yelena’s divorce, but it’s some one with other thoughts. He lay -immovable, important, but he didn’t look at us or any one, and he seemed -so different.... He was afraid of no one and judged every one; himself, -that is, the old Semen Nikolayevich, and Gavrilo, Yelena, Rogov, and ... -yes, me too.... I suddenly understood.... - -“Then I saw Gavrilo. By the window, in a corner, grieved but quiet.... As -I suddenly understood, I walked up to him and said: - -“‘Did you do this?’ - -“‘Of course, Pavel Semenovich, I did.’ - -“‘Why?’ - -“‘I don’t know, Pavel Semenovich....’ - -“Then the doctor attracted my attention. He told me that there was no -help.... People kept walking and driving up, coming in, sitting down, and -writing statements.... It seemed so strange that the young prosecutor, -such a careful and reliable man, should give orders not to let Gavrilo -and Yelena go and to hold some sort of an investigation.... I remember -his smile when I asked him the reason for it.... I’ll admit it was a -strange question but I thought that this procedure was unnecessary.... -When they started to take Gavrilo and Yelena away I involuntarily got -up and asked if they were going to take me.... I later heard rumors -that something was wrong with me. That was false. My head was never so -clear.... The prosecutor was surprised. ‘If I may give you advice, you -need to drink some water and go to bed.’ ‘But Yelena?’ I asked; ‘why -her?’ ‘We will hope,’ he answered, ‘that everything will turn out in a -way that’s best for her, but now ... at the first inquiry ... it is my -painful duty.’ ... I still thought he was acting wrongly.... - -“The two were taken away. I went back to my rooms and sat down on the -steps. It was cold.... A clear, autumn, quiet night with a clear, white -frost.... The stars were sparkling and whispering in the sky. They had -such a special expression and meaning.... You could hear their mysterious -whisper, though you couldn’t make out what they said.... It was both a -distant tremor of alarm and also quiet and neighborly sympathy. - -“I really wasn’t surprised when Rogov came up quietly and timidly sat -down beside me on the steps. He sat a long time without saying a word.... -I don’t remember whether he did say anything, but I knew the whole -story.... He had no thoughts of murder. He wanted ‘to win Yelena’s case -with M. Budnikov’ for himself. He had to get hold of the ticket, on -which, as he supposed, was an endorsement.... This clever scheme pleased -him: to get hold by illegal means of the proof of a legal right. He saw -something humorous in it. The illegal procuring of legal proof in the -form of a hypothetical endorsement.... That’s why he worked his way into -Budnikov’s confidence through the business of the divorce.... He found -out everything about the place and sent one of his obedient clients -from the ‘Crags’ to take the proper box. Gavrilo was to open the door -of M. Budnikov’s apartment with a second key, which Budnikov, through -strange oversight, had failed to take back from him. Instead of waiting -at the door, Gavrilo had gone upstairs. I could have sworn I had seen -him walk along with his heavy tread, his dark head, and the deep hatred -in his soul.... And how he reached the door and how M. Budnikov awoke -and apparently was not even frightened but suddenly understood the whole -situation. - -“I still saw that moment in the past, when two students ran into my -rooms on just such a bright night, and I faced them in my shame and -weakness.... What a fire ... evil and sarcastic ... was blazing in the -eyes of one.... - -“It seemed to me that I had discovered that which was the bond of union -among all things: these lofty, flashing stars, the living murmur of the -wind among the branches, my memories, and this deed.... When I was young -I had often had this sensation.... When my fresh mind was trying to -solve all questions and gain a larger truth. Another time you will seem -to be right at the threshold and everything is about to be cleared up, -when it all vanishes. - -“We sat a long time. Finally Rogov got up. - -“‘Where are you going now?’ I asked. - -“‘I don’t know,’ was the answer, ‘what I must do.... I think I’ll have to -join Gavrilo and Yelena....’ - -“There he stood. I understood so much more clearly than usual, and I -suddenly realized that he was waiting for me to shake hands. I held out -my hand and he suddenly seized it, and it was a long time before he let -it go.... - -“He broke away and left ... straight down the street. I looked after him, -as long as I could make out the slender figure of my former pupil....” - - * * * * * - -For some time the silence in the compartment was interrupted only by -the rattling of the train and a long whistle. The door slammed, and a -conductor walked along the corridor and called out: - -“Station of N-sk. Ten minutes’ wait.” - -Pavel Semenovich hurriedly got up, picked up a small valise, and, with -a sad smile at his audience, he got out of the train. I began to make -preparations to leave and so did the gentleman in the gold glasses. Petr -Petrovich remained alone. He looked after Pavel Semenovich and, when the -door was shut behind him, he smiled at the gentleman in the gold glasses, -shook his head, and, running his finger around his forehead, he said: - -“He always was a crank.... Now I think he’s not all there. I’ve heard -that he threw up his position and now goes around and gives private -lessons.” - -The gentleman in the gold glasses looked steadily at him but said nothing. - -We got out of the train. - - * * * * * - -From the point of view of a reporter the case was uninteresting. The -jurors acquitted Gavrilo (Yelena was not tried); Rogov was convicted of -being the instigator, but mercy was recommended. The judge several times -had to stop the witness Pavel Semenovich Padorin, former teacher, who -constantly wandered away from facts, in order to express opinions which -were irrelevant and had nothing to do with the case.... - - - - -“NECESSITY” - -(AN EASTERN TALE) - - - - -“NECESSITY” - -(AN EASTERN TALE) - - -I - -One day, when the three good sages,—Ulaya, Darnu, and Purana,—were -sitting at the door of their common home, young Kassapa, the son of the -Rajah Lichava, came up to them and sat down on the earth which was piled -around the house but he did not speak. The young man’s cheeks were pale -and his eyes, which had lost the glow of youth, seemed weary. - -The old men looked one at another, and good Ulaya said: - -“Listen, Kassapa, tell to us, the three sages, who wish you nothing but -good, what is oppressing your soul. Ever since you lay in the cradle, -fate has showered its gifts upon you and you look as downcast as the -meanest slave of your father, poor Jebaka, who yesterday felt the heavy -hand of your steward....” - -“Yes, poor Jebaka showed us the welts on his back,” said stern Darnu and -kindly Purana added: - -“We wished to call them to your attention, good Kassapa.” - -The young man did not allow him to finish. He jumped up from his seat and -exclaimed with an impatience which he had never before displayed: - -“Stop, kindly sages, with your sly reproaches! You seem to think that I -must give you account for every welt inflicted by the steward on the back -of the slave Jebaka. I greatly doubt whether I am bound to give account -even of my own acts.” - -The sages glanced again one at another and Ulaya said: - -“Continue, my son, if you so desire.” - -“Desire?” interrupted the young man with a bitter laugh. “The fact is, I -don’t know whether I desire anything or not. And whether I like what I -wish or what another wishes for me.” - -He stopped. It was almost perfectly quiet but a breeze stirred the tops -of the trees, and a leaf fell at the feet of Purana. While the sad gaze -of Kassapa was directed upon this, a stone broke off from the heated -cliff and rolled down to the bank of a brook, where a large lizard was -resting at this moment.... Every day at the same hour it crawled to this -spot. Straightening its front legs and closing its protruding eyes, -it apparently listened to the discourse of the sages. It was easy to -imagine that its green body contained the soul of some wise Brahmin. But -this day that stone released this soul from its green envelope, so that -it might enter upon new transformations.... - -A bitter smile spread over Kassapa’s face. - -“Come now, ye kindly sages,” he said, “ask this leaf, if it wished to -fall from the tree, or the stone, if it wished to break off from the -cliff, or the lizard, if it wished to be crushed by the stone. The hour -came, the leaf fell, the lizard heard the last of your conversations. For -all that we know could not be otherwise. Or do ye say that it should and -could have been otherwise than it was?” - -“It could not,” answered the sages. “What has been had to be in the great -chain of events.” - -“Ye have spoken. Therefore, the welts on the back of Jebaka had to be in -the great chain of events, and every one of them has been written since -eternity in the book of necessity. And you wish me, the same kind of a -stone, the same kind of a lizard, the same kind of a leaf on the great -tree of life, the same kind of an insignificant stream as this brook -which is driven by an unknown power from source to mouth.... You wish me -to struggle against the current which is carrying me onward....” - -He kicked the bloody stone which fell into the water and he again sank -back on the earth beside the good sages. The eyes of Kassapa again became -dull and sad. - -Old Darnu said nothing; old Purana shook his head; but the cheerful Ulaya -merely laughed and said: - -“In the book of necessity, it is also manifestly written, Kassapa, that I -should tell to you what happened once to the two sages, Darnu and Purana, -whom you see before you.... And in the same book it is written that you -shall listen to the tale.” - -Then he told the following strange story about his companions and they -listened smilingly, but neither confirmed or denied a word. - - -II - -“In the land,” he said, “where blooms the lotus and the sacred stream -flows upon its course,—there were no Brahmins more wise than Darnu and -Purana. No one had learned the Shastras better and no one had dipped more -deeply into the ancient wisdom of the Vedas. But when both approached the -end of the mortal span of life and the storms of approaching winter had -touched their hair with snow, both were still dissatisfied. The years -were passing, the grave was coming nearer and nearer, and truth seemed -to recede further and further....” - -Both then, well aware that it was impossible to escape the grave, decided -to draw truth nearer to themselves. Darnu was the first to put on a -wanderer’s robe, to hang a gourd of water on his belt, to take a staff in -his hand and to set out. After two years of difficult traveling, he came -to the foot of a lofty mountain and on one of its peaks, at an altitude -where the clouds love to pass the night, he saw the ruins of a temple. In -a meadow near the road shepherds were watching their flocks, and Darnu -asked them what sort of a temple it was, what people had built it, and to -what god they had offered sacrifices. - -The shepherds merely looked at the mountain and then at Darnu, their -questioner, for they did not know what answer to make. Finally they said: - -“We inhabitants of the valleys, do not know how to answer you. There is -among our number an old shepherd Anuruja, who ages ago used to pasture -his flocks on these heights. He may know.” - -They called this old man. - -“I cannot tell you,” he said, “what people built it, when they did it, -and to what god they here sacrificed. But my father heard from his father -and told me that my great grandfather had said that there once lived a -tribe of sages on the slopes of these mountains and that they have all -perished, since they have erected this temple. The name of the deity was -‘Necessity.’” - -“Necessity?” exclaimed Darnu, greatly interested. “Don’t you know, good -father, what form this deity had and whether or not it still resides in -this temple?” - -“We are simple people,” answered the old man, “and it is hard for us to -answer your wise questions. When I was young,—and that was years and -years ago,—I used to pasture my flock on these mountain sides. At that -time there stood in the temple an idol wrought out of a gleaming black -stone. At rare intervals, when a storm overtook me in the vicinity,—and -storms are very terrible among these crags,—I used to drive my flock into -the old temple for shelter. Rarely, too, Angapali, a shepherdess from a -neighboring hillside, would run in, trembling and frightened. I warmed -her in my arms and the old god looked down at us with a strange smile. -But he never did us any evil, perchance because Angapali always adorned -him with flowers. But they say....” - -The shepherd stopped with a doubtful look at Darnu and was apparently -ashamed to tell him more. - -“Say what? My good man, tell me the whole story,” requested the sage. - -“They say, all the worshippers of the old god have not perished.... Some -are wandering around the world.... And, sometimes, of course rarely, they -come here and ask like you the road to the temple and they go there to -question the old god. These he turns to stone. Old men have often seen in -the temple columns or statues in the form of seated men, richly covered -with morning-glories and other vines. Birds have built their nests on -some. Later on they gradually turn to dust.” - -Darnu pondered deeply over the story. “Am I now near the goal?” he -thought. For it is well known that “he, who like a blind man sees naught, -like a deaf man, hears naught, like a tree is immovable and insensible, -has attained unto rest and knowledge.” - -He turned to the shepherd. - -“My friend, where is the road to the temple?” - -The shepherd pointed it out, and when Darnu commenced to ascend the -overgrown path, he watched the sage a long time and then said to his -young companions: - -“Call me not the oldest of shepherds, but the youngest of suckling lambs -if the old god is not soon going to have a new sacrifice. Yoke me like -an ox or burden me like an ass with various loads, if another stone -column is not to take its place in the old temple!...” - -The shepherds respectfully hearkened to the old man and scattered over -the pasture. And once more the herds grazed peacefully in the valley, the -ploughman followed his plough, the sun shone, night fell, and men were -occupied with their own cares and thought no more of wise Darnu. Soon,—in -a few days or so,—another wanderer came to the foot of the mountain and -he, too, asked about the temple. When he followed the directions of the -shepherd and began to ascend the mountain cheerfully, the old man shook -his head and said: - -“There goes another.” - -This was Purana, following in the steps of wise Darnu and thinking: - -“It will never be said that Darnu found truth which Purana could not -seek.” - - -III - -Darnu ascended the mountain. - -It was a hard climb. It was very evident that a human foot rarely passed -over the neglected path, but Darnu cheerfully defied all obstacles and -finally reached the half-ruined gates, above which was the ancient -inscription: “I am Necessity, the mistress of every movement.” The walls -had no other sculptures or decorations save fragments of some numbers and -mysterious calculations. - -Darnu entered the sanctuary. The old walls spread abroad the peace of -destruction and death. But this destruction apparently had grown weary -and left undisturbed the ruins of walls which had witnessed the march of -centuries. In one wall there was a broad recess; several steps led up -to an altar, on which was an idol of a gleaming black stone; the deity -smiled strangely as it gazed upon this picture of ruin. From beneath it -bubbled a brook which filled the wondrous silence with the murmur of its -water. Several palms stretched their roots into its course and towered up -to the blue sky, which freely looked down through the ruined roof.... - -Darnu involuntarily submitted to the wondrous spell of this place and -decided to question the mysterious deity, whose spirit still seemed to -fill the ruined temple. The sage scooped up some water out of the cold -brook and gathered some fruit which an old fig-tree had shed and then -he began his preparations according to all the rules in the books on -contemplation. First of all he sat down facing the idol, drew up his -legs, and looked at the image a long time, for he wanted to impress it -upon his mind. Then he bared his abdomen and gazed upon that spot where -he was bound to his mother before his earthly birth. For it is well known -that all knowledge lies between being and not being and hence must come -the revelations of contemplation.... - -In such a posture he saw the end of the first day and the beginning of -the second. The heat of noon several times replaced the cool of evening -and the shadows of night gave place to the light of the sun,—but Darnu -remained in the same position, rarely plunging his gourd into the water -or absent-mindedly picking up some fruit. The eyes of the sage grew -dull and fixed; his limbs dried up. At first he felt the inconvenience -and pain of immobility. Later on these sensations passed into complete -unconsciousness, and before the stony gaze of the sage another world, -the world of contemplation, began to unroll its strange apparitions and -shapes. They no longer bore any relationship to the experiences of the -meditating sage. They were disinterested, disconnected, and concerned -only themselves, and that meant that they were the preludes to a -revelation of the truth. - -It was hard to say how long this state continued. The water in the gourd -dried up, the palms quietly rustled, the ripening fruits broke off -and fell at the sage’s feet, but he let them lie on the ground. He was -almost freed from thirst and hunger. He was not warmed by the noontide -sun nor chilled by the cool freshness of the night. Finally he ceased to -distinguish the light of day and the darkness of night. - -Then the inner eye of Darnu saw the long expected vision. Out of his -abdomen grew a green trunk of bamboo tipped with a knot like an ordinary -stem. From the knot grew another section and thus, rising ever higher, -the trunk grew to consist of fifty joints, a number corresponding to the -years of the sage. At the top, instead of leaves and blossoms, grew a -something resembling the idol in the temple. This something looked down -on Darnu with an evil smile. - -“Poor Darnu,” it said finally. “Why did you come here and take so much -trouble? What do you want, poor Darnu?” - -“I seek the truth,” answered the sage. - -“Then look on me, for I am what you sought. But I see that I am -unpleasant and disagreeable to your sight.” - -“You are incomprehensible,” answered Darnu. - -“Listen, Darnu. Do you see the fifty joints of the reed?” - -“The fifty joints of the reed are my years,” said the sage. - -“And I sit above them, for I am ‘Necessity,’ the mistress of every -movement. Every act, every breath, everything existing, everything -living is impotent, powerless, helpless; under the control of necessity -it attains the aim of its existence, which is death. I am that which -has guided the fifty joints of your life from the cradle to the present -moment. You have never done a single thing in your whole life: not a -single thing of good or evil.... You have never given a coin to a beggar -in a moment of pity nor dealt a single blow with hatred in your heart -... you have never cared for a single rose in your monastery gardens nor -felled a single tree in the forest ... you have never fed a single animal -nor killed a single gnat which was sucking your blood.... You have never -made a single movement in your whole life without it being marked down in -advance by me.... Because I am Necessity.... You have been proud of your -actions or lamented bitterly for your sins. Your heart trembled from love -or hate, but I—I was laughing at you, for I am Necessity and write down -everything in advance. When you entered a square to teach fools what to -do or what to avoid,—I was laughing and saying to myself: just see wise -Darnu reveal his wisdom to those naïve fools and share his sanctity with -sinners. Not because Darnu is wise and holy, but because I, ‘Necessity,’ -am like a stream and Darnu is like a leaf carried away by the current. -Poor Darnu, you thought that you had been led hither by your search for -truth.... But on these walls among my calculations was marked the day and -the hour when you had to cross this threshold. Because I am Necessity.... -Poor sage!” - -“I loathe you,” said the seer with aversion. - -“I know it. Because you considered yourself free and I am Necessity, the -mistress of every movement.” - -Then Darnu became angry; he seized the fifty joints of the reed, broke -them off, and flung them away. “So,” he said, “so will I deal with the -fifty joints of my life, because during these fifty years I was merely -the tool of Necessity. Now I will free myself, because I have seen and I -want to break my yoke.” - -But Necessity, invisible in the darkness which surrounded the dull gaze -of the sage, laughed and repeated: - -“No, poor Darnu, you are still mine, because I am Necessity.” - -Darnu opened his eyes with difficulty and suddenly he felt that his -feet were swollen and painful. He started to rise, but at once he sank -back again. Because he now saw clearly the significance of all the -inscriptions and calculations in the temple. As soon as he began to move -his limbs, he saw that his desire to do so had already been written on -the wall. - -As from another world, the voice of Necessity came to his ears: - -“Rise now, poor Darnu; your limbs are swollen. You see 999,998 of your -brothers in darkness do it.... It is _necessary_.” - -In disgust Darnu remained in his former position, which now became still -more painful. But he said to himself: “I will be one of those in the -darkness who will not submit to Necessity, because I am free.” - -Meanwhile the sun had reached the zenith, and as it looked through the -holes in the roof, it began to parch the ill-protected body of the -sage.... Darnu stretched out his hand toward his gourd. - -But he at once saw what was written on the wall under the number 999,998 -and Necessity again said: - -“Poor sage, it is _necessary_ that you drink.” - -Darnu left the gourd untouched and said: - -“I will not drink, because I am free.” - -There came a laugh from a distant corner of the temple and at the same -time one of the fruits of the fig-tree grew too heavy to hang any longer -and fell at the feet of the sage. At the same time a number on the wall -changed. Darnu realized at once that this was a new attempt of Necessity -to destroy his inner liberty. - -“I will not eat,” he said, “because I am free.” - -Again there came a laugh from the depths of the temple and he heard the -murmuring of the brook: - -“Poor Darnu!” - -The sage became more angry. He remained motionless without looking at the -fruit which from time to time fell from the boughs, without hearkening -to the seductive murmur of the waters, and he kept repeating one phrase -to himself: “I am free, free, free!” And that no fruit might thwart his -freedom by falling directly into his mouth, he closed it tightly and -clenched his teeth. - -Thus he sat for a long time, freeing himself from hunger and thirst and -trying to spread abroad to all the corners of the earth confidence in -his inner liberty. He grew thin, dried up, became wooden, lost track of -time and space. He could no longer distinguish day and night, but he kept -repeating and asserting to himself that he was free. After a certain -space of time, the birds became accustomed to his immobility, flew up and -perched upon him, and still later a pair of wild doves built their nest -on the head of the free sage and heedlessly brought forth their young in -the folds of his turban. - -“O foolish birds!” thought wise Darnu, when first the calling of the -parents and the peeping of the young penetrated his consciousness. “They -do all this because they are not free and obey the laws of Necessity.” -And even when his shoulders were covered with the droppings of the -birds,—he again said to himself: - -“Fools! They do _this_ too, because they are not free.” - -He counted himself perfectly free and close to the gods. - -Below, out of the soil, the thin tendrils of climbing vines began to rise -and to wind themselves around his immovable limbs.... - - -IV - -Only once was the wise Darnu partially recalled from complete -unconsciousness and at that time he felt in some remote corner of his -mind a sensation of mild astonishment. - -This was caused by the appearance of the sage Purana. Exactly like Darnu -he walked up to the temple, read the inscription above the entrance, and -then going in, began to read the figures on the walls. The wise Purana -was very unlike his stern companion. He was kindly and had a round face. -A cross-section of his trunk would have formed a circle, his pleasant -eyes sparkled, and his lips wore a smile. In his wisdom he was never -obstinate like Darnu, and he sought blessed peace far more zealously than -he did freedom. - -Walking around the temple, he came to the recess, reverenced the deity, -and then, with a glance at the brook and the fig tree, he said: - -“Here is a deity with a pleasant smile, and there is a stream of -fresh water and a fig-tree. What more does a man need for pleasant -contemplation? Yes, and there’s Darnu. He is so blessed that the birds -are building their nests upon him....” - -The appearance of his wise friend was not especially joyous, but Purana, -gazing at him reverently, said to himself: - -“There’s no doubt he’s blessed; but he always loved too stern methods of -contemplation. I do not aspire to the higher stages of blessedness, but I -hope to tell the dwellers upon earth what I see on the lower planes.” - -Then after enjoying the water and the juicy fruit, he sat down -comfortably not far from Darnu, and he too prepared for contemplation in -the proper way: that is, by baring his abdomen and gazing at it as the -other sage had done. - -So passed a time, more slowly than with Darnu, for the kindly Purana -often interrupted his contemplation to enjoy the water and the juicy -fruit. Finally out of the navel of the second wise man sprang a bamboo -trunk and this attained a height of fifty joints, the number of the years -of his life. On the top again sat “Necessity,” but in his semi-conscious -state she seemed to him to smile pleasantly and he replied in the same -way. - -“Who are you, kind deity?” he asked. - -“I am Necessity, who has governed the fifty years of your life. All that -you have done, you did not do, but I did them, for you are but a leaf -swept along by the stream and I am the mistress of every movement.” - -“Blessed art thou,” said Purana. “I see that I have not come to you in -vain. Continue in the future to execute your tasks for yourself and me -and I will watch for you in pleasant contemplation.” - -He lost himself in sleep with a happy smile on his lips. So he continued -his pleasant contemplation, from time to time filling his gourd with -water or picking up fruit which had fallen to the ground at his feet. -Each time he stirred with less and less pleasure, since the drowsiness of -contemplation was more and more strongly mastering him, and since he had -already eaten the fruit which was nearest to him, he had to exert himself -to obtain them from the tree. - -Finally he said to himself: - -“I’m a foolish man far removed from truth, and that’s why I have such -foolish cares. Isn’t it because this good deity is so slow with her -revelations? Here before me on the tree is ripe fruit and my stomach is -empty.... But doesn’t the law of necessity say: ‘where there is an hungry -stomach and fruit, the latter must of necessity enter the former’?... -So, kind necessity, I submit to your power.... Isn’t that the greatest -blessedness?” - -Thereupon he buried himself in complete contemplation like Darnu, and -he waited for necessity to manifest herself. In order to facilitate her -task, he held his mouth open facing the fig tree.... - -He waited one day, two, three.... Gradually the smile congealed upon his -face, his body dried up, the pleasant rotundity of his form disappeared, -the fat under his skin wasted away and the sinews stood out distinctly -through it. When at last the fruit ripened and fell, striking Purana on -the nose,—the sage did not hear it fall nor did he feel the blow.... -Another pair of doves built a nest in the folds of his turban, fledglings -peeped soon in the nest, and the shoulders of Purana were covered thickly -with the droppings of the birds. When the luxurious vines had enveloped -Purana, it was impossible to distinguish him from his companion—the -obstinate sage struggling against Necessity from the good-natured sage -willingly submitting to it. - -Absolute silence reigned in the temple, and the gleaming idol looked down -on the two sages with its enigmatic and strange smile. - -Fruit ripened and fell from the trees, the brook bubbled on, white clouds -sailed across the blue sky and looked down into the interior of the -temple and the sages sat on without manifesting any signs of life—one in -the blessedness of denial, the other in the blessedness of submission to -Necessity. - - -V - -Eternal night had spread its black wings over both and no living being -would ever have known the truth which the two sages had perceived at -the summit of the fifty joints of the reed. But before the last spark -which illumined in the darkness the consciousness of wise Darnu had been -finally extinguished,—he heard again the same voice as before: Necessity -was laughing in the gathering darkness, and this laughter, taciturn and -soundless, seemed to Darnu a presentiment of death.... - -“Poor Darnu,” said the implacable deity, “pitiable sage! You thought you -could leave me, you hoped that you could lay aside my yoke and by turning -into an immobile column purchase thereby the consciousness of spiritual -liberty....” - -“Yes, I am free,” answered the thought of the obstinate sage. “I alone in -the darkness of your servants do not obey the commands of Necessity....” - -“Look here, poor Darnu....” - -Suddenly with his inner eye he saw again the meaning of all the -inscriptions and calculations on the walls of the temple. The numbers -quietly changed, they grew or diminished automatically and one of them -especially attracted his attention. It was the number 999,998.... And -as he looked at it, two units more fell on the wall and the long number -quietly began to change. Darnu trembled and Necessity smiled again. - -“You understood, poor sage? In every hundred thousand of my blind -servants there is always one obstinate man like you, and one lazy man -like Purana.... You have both come here.... Greetings, ye sages, who have -completed my calculations....” - -Two tears rolled down from the dull eyes of the sage; they quietly rolled -down over his dried up cheeks and fell upon the ground like two ripe -fruits from the tree of his aged wisdom. - -Beyond the walls of the temple everything went as usual. The sun shone, -the winds blew, the people in the valley busied themselves with their -cares, the clouds gathered in the heavens.... As they crossed the -mountains, they became heavy and weak. A storm broke in the mountains.... - -Again as in times of yore, a foolish shepherd from a neighboring hillside -drove hither his flock and from another direction a young and foolish -shepherdess drove hither her flock. They met by the brook and the recess -out of which the deity looked at them with its strange smile, and while -the thunder roared, they embraced and cooed, just as 999,999 pairs had -done in the same situation. If wise Darnu could have seen and heard them, -he would certainly have said in the greatness of his wisdom: - -“Fools, they are doing this not for themselves but for the pleasure of -Necessity.” - -The storm passed, the sun again played upon the grass, which was still -covered with the sparkling drops of rain and lighted up the darkened -interior of the temple. - -“Look,” said the shepherdess, “see those two new statues. They never were -here before.” - -“Hush,” answered the shepherd. “Old men say that these are worshippers of -the ancient deity. But they can’t do any harm.... Stay with them and I’ll -go and find your stray sheep.” - -He went out and left her alone with the idol and the two sages. Because -she was a little afraid and because she was filled with youthful love -and delight, she could not remain in one place but kept walking around -the temple and singing loud songs of love and joy. When the storm was -entirely passed and the edge of the dark cloud had hidden itself behind -the distant summits of the range of mountains, she pulled some damp -flowers and decked the idol with them. To conceal its unpleasant smile, -she stuck in its mouth a fruit of the mountain nut with its leaves and -stem. - -Then she looked at it and laughed aloud. - -That did not seem enough. She wanted to adorn the old men with flowers. -But since good Purana still carried the nest with the young birds, she -turned her attention to stern Darnu, whose nest had been abandoned. She -removed the empty nest, cleaned of bird droppings the turban, hair and -shoulders of the sage and washed his face with spring water. She thought -that in this way she was recompensing the gods for their protection of -her happiness. Because even this seemed little and she was overflowing -with joy, she bent over and suddenly the blessed Darnu, standing on the -very threshold of Nirvana, felt on his dry lips the vigorous kiss of the -foolish girl.... - -Soon after the shepherd returned with a lamb which he had found, and the -two went off, singing a cheerful song. - - -VI - -In the meantime, that spark which had not been quite extinguished in the -consciousness of wise Darnu, flickered up and commenced to burn brighter -and brighter. First of all, in him as in a house where everyone is -sleeping, thought awoke and began to wander restlessly in the darkness. -Wise Darnu thought a whole hour and formed only one phrase: - -“They were subject to Necessity....” - -Another hour: - -“But in the last instance, I too was subject to it....” - -A third hour brought a new premise: - -“In picking the fruit, I obeyed the law of Necessity.” - -A fourth: - -“But in refusing, I fulfilled her calculations.” - -A fifth: - -“Those fools live and love, but wise Purana and I die.” - -A sixth: - -“This perhaps is a work of Necessity, but it has very little sense.” - -Then awakened thought finally stirred itself and began to rouse other -sleeping faculties: - -“If Purana and I die,” said wise Darnu to himself, “it will be inevitable -but foolish. If I succeed in saving myself and my companion, it will be -likewise necessary but sensible. Therefore we will save ourselves. For -this I need will and strength.” - -He rallied the little spark of will which had not been extinguished. He -compelled it to raise his heavy eyelids. - -The daylight broke in upon his consciousness, as it floods a room on the -opening of the shutters. First he noticed the lifeless figure of his -friend, with his set face and the tear that precedes death already on -his cheeks. Darnu’s heart felt such pity for his ill-fated fellow seeker -after truth that his will became stronger and stronger. It entered his -hands and they began to move; his hands helped his feet.... This all took -much longer to execute than to decide upon. But the following morning -found Darnu’s gourd full of fresh water at Purana’s lips, and a piece of -juicy fruit fell finally into the open mouth of the good-natured sage. - -Then Purana’s jaws moved and he thought: “O benevolent Necessity. I see -that you are now beginning to fulfill your promise.” But when he realized -that it was not the goddess but his companion Darnu who was stirring -around him, he felt himself rather insulted and said: - -“Eight mountain ranges and seven seas, the sun and the holy gods, you, -I, the universe,—all are moved by Necessity.... Why did you awaken me, -Darnu? I was on the threshold of blessed peace.” - -“You were like a corpse, friend Purana.” - -“He who like a blind man sees nought, like a deaf man hears nought, like -a tree is insensible and immovable, has attained rest.... Give me some -more water to drink, friend Darnu....” - -“Drink, Purana. I still see a tear on your cheek. Did not the blessedness -of peace press it from your eyes?” - -The wise sages spent the next three weeks in accustoming their mouths to -eating and drinking and their limbs to moving, and during these three -weeks they slept in the temple and warmed each other with the heat of -their bodies till their strength returned. - -At the beginning of the fourth week, they stood at the threshold of the -ruined temple. Below at their feet lay the green slopes of the mountain -descending into the valley.... Far in the distance were the winding -rivers, the white houses of the villages and cities where people lived -their normal lives, busied with cares, passions, love, anger and hate, -where joy was changed for sorrow, and sorrow was healed by new joy, and -where amid the roaring torrent of life men raised their eyes to heaven, -seeking a star to guide them.... The sages stood and looked at the -picture of life spread out at the entrance to the old temple. - -“Where shall we go, friend Darnu?” asked the blinded Purana. “Are there -no directions on the walls of the temple?” - -“Leave the temple and its deity in peace,” answered Darnu. “If we go to -the right, that will be in accordance with Necessity. If we go to the -left, that too is in accordance with her. Don’t you understand, friend -Purana, that this deity acknowledges as its laws everything that our -choice decides upon. Necessity is not the master but merely the soulless -accountant of our movements. The accountant marks only what has been. -What must be—will be only by our will....” - -“It means....” - -“It means,—let us permit Necessity to worry over her calculations, as -she will. Let us choose that path which leads us to the homes of our -brothers.” - -With cheerful steps both sages went down from the mountain heights into -the valley, where human life flows on amid cares, love, and sorrow, where -laughter echoes and tears flow.... - -“And where our steward, O Kassapa, covers the back of the slave Jebaka -with welts,” added wise Darnu with a smile of reproach. - -This is the story which the cheerful sage Ulaya told to the young son of -the Rajah Lichava, when he had fallen into the idleness of despair.... -Darnu and Purana smiled, denying nothing and affirming nothing, and -Kassapa heard the story. Buried in thought he went away toward the home -of his father, the powerful Rajah Lichava. - - - - -ON THE VOLGA - - - - -ON THE VOLGA - - -I - -As he went out on the deck of the steamer which was running upstream, -Dmitry Parfentyevich drew a deep breath. - -The day was ending and the sun was hanging low above the forest-covered -mountain. The river furnished a majestic and peaceful picture. Somewhere -in the distance a steamboat whistled; a sailboat heavily laden lay on the -river and seemed as immobile as the sleepy wife of a merchant. The rafts -all carried fires,—the men were cooking their dinners. Two small barks, -fastened together and heading obliquely across stream, floated by, hardly -touching the glassy surface of the river, and beneath them, swinging and -swaying, hung their reflection in the blue depths. When the wake of the -steamer, spreading ever wider and wider, touched this image, it suddenly -broke and scattered. It was a sudden shattering of a mirror and the -fragments floated and sparkled for a long time. - -“Are you all right, Grunya?” asked Dmitry Parfentyevich, sitting down -beside his daughter. - -“Yes,” she answered briefly. - -The girl wore a dark dress. A Scythian kerchief on her forehead threw -a shadow over her pale young face; her large eyes were dreamy and -thoughtful. - -“The main thing is heavenly blessing and quiet,” moralized Dmitry -Parfentyevich. - -His life was moving toward its close and he thought that nothing could be -better than the quiet of a dying day.... - -Only quiet and prayer after sinful vanity and weakness.... May God grant -no new wishes, but save from every new temptation. - -“Grunya?” Dmitry Parfentyevich looked at his daughter and he wished to -ask about her own thoughts. - -“Yes,” answered the girl, but her gaze, dreamily running far ahead over -the golden river and the mountains with their quiet veil of bluish mist, -seemed to be seeking something else. - -The passengers on the deck were just as quiet. Some were carrying on -private conversations; others were getting ready for tea at the little -tables. - -In the stern sat a group of Tatars, returning home from Astrakhan. There -was an old patriarch with three sons. A fourth, the favorite, had been -buried in a strange city. Akhmetzyan had been taken ill with an unknown -disease, lay a week and died. - -“All is as Allah wills,” said the stern face of the old man, but he had -still to tell the mother of the death of her beloved son. - -Everything breathed of silence and peace and the mountains on the right -bank swam up one after the other and then, receding into the distance, -they seemed to wrap themselves in a blue haze. - - -II - -Near Dmitry Parfentyevich were the knots of passengers, some on benches -by the table, others on the deck and sitting on bundles. - -There were several raftsmen from Unzha, a fat and good-natured country -woman, and an old man, probably also a small farmer. The centre of the -group at this moment was a steward for the third class passengers. He -was still young and was dressed in a worn and dirty frock coat, with the -number “2” on the left side. A napkin hung over his shoulder and with -this he attained remarkable success in rubbing the wet tables and the -glasses. He had just brought to the deck a tray of dishes with his arms -wide open and with his eyes looking ahead and at his feet at the same -instant. He had put the tray on the table, wiped off the dust around -it with his napkin, and then joining this group of his countrymen sat -down on the end of the bench and at once assumed a leading rôle in the -conversation which they had already commenced. - -“I’ll tell you,” he said in a wholly confident tone, “if I cross myself -with my fist, it works. This way: in the Name of the Father and of the -Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen. It really works just the same. What do -you think?” - -He looked at the others with the air of a man who had just propounded a -very clever riddle. - -“The fist, you say?” asked one of the peasants from Unzha in surprise. - -“Yes, the fist.” - -The listeners shook their heads as a mark of doubt and reproof. The -farmer turned sternly to the young fellow: - -“N-now, stop that! You claim to be above God....” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Why, you are a foo-fool to make the sign of the cross with your fist. -Impossible. It never works.” - -“It does!” - -The young fellow looked round upon his auditors with a joyously radiant -face and was about to give the answer to the riddle when he heard at one -of the tables the impatient tapping of a spoon on a glass. - -The fellow jumped up as if he had been shot. In an instant he was at the -other end of the deck, grabbed the tea-pots, ran to the machinery and -back, set the table, shook himself, ran below again, put up the orders -and passed them around the tables, and all the while the conversation -continued before an enchanted audience. - -“He’s beside himself!” said the farmer. - -“Due to a stupid mind,” added the old woman pityingly. - -“The little fellow was a liar, that’s all!” - -“How can you do it with your fist?... That never works....” - -The general opinion was evidently very definite. - -“Impossible,” said several voices suddenly. “It’s impudence and nothing -else....” - -“What——?” - -“Where did you get that notion?” - -“It’s impudence....” - -“Just you listen,” interrupted the young waiter, suddenly coming up the -hatch, “and you may not think it impudent.... In the linen factory in -the place where I lived there was a fellow and a machine caught all his -fingers and slash bang! That’s all! He didn’t have a finger left! And his -right hand too.... Just imagine: being a man with nothing but his palm -left....” - -The audience was charmed. - -“What are you driving at?” - -“You see the question.... What would you do, brothers?... Could he cross -himself with his left hand?...” - -“What, what?” The farmer waved his hand. “You can’t use the left hand.... -That’s for Satan....” - -“But he’d lost the fingers on the right, so he couldn’t join them.... Had -only the palm left!...” - -“That’s so....” - -The riddle became more popular. The passengers nearby listened; those -further off got up and walked nearer to the speaker. Even the young -merchant who was talking very authoritatively about politics at the tea -table with a fat gentleman, deigned to turn his benevolent attention to -the all-ingrossing riddle. He tapped with his spoon and beckoned to the -waiter. - -“Waiter, how much?... O-oh! What did you say: with the fist?” - -“Yes, your excellency, among ourselves.... It doesn’t interest you....” - -“No, but it’s really clever, isn’t it?” remarked the merchant to his fat -friend. - -The latter’s answer was unintelligible, for the man was struggling with a -slice of bread and butter. - -But the Tatars sat in the stern without taking any part in the general -conversation. They were silent, but once in a while they made brief -remarks to one another in their own language. - - -III - -Dmitry Parfentyevich started like a war horse at the sound of a trumpet. -Grunya did not take her eyes from the distant mountains and the river, -but it was easy to see that she was not looking at them. Without turning -her head she was listening intently to the conversation of her neighbors. - -Dmitry Parfentyevich looked at her askance. Hitherto she would have -turned to him immediately with a trusting question: “Papa, how’s that?” -Now she seemed to pay no attention to her father’s opinion. - -He waited for her to ask but her large eyes fell with evident sympathy -upon that knot of dark, ignorant people, who were shocked by such a -meaningless change in their faith.... - -He rose and walked up to the disputants. His thickset, dry figure, -savagely pure, in an old-fashioned costume, won for him the immediate -attention of all. - -“What’s the trouble?” he asked. - -“It’s this way, you see, merchant.... This little fellow says you can -cross yourself with your fist.” - -“I heard him but don’t repeat it! That man’s a fool!” - -“Yes, yes,” whispered one timidly, “we’re all dark people....” - -“That’s true, ... you are. If you follow the teachings of your true -masters, you’ll find nothing surprising here.” - -The audience grew rapidly larger. All were now interested in the tall old -man with quiet and majestically austere manners. Dmitry Parfentyevich -was not embarrassed by the attention he was receiving. It was not the -first time. There was only one person in that crowd that interested -him and that was his scholar, his disobedient and devout Grunya. In -his own way he loved his daughter and his rough heart was torn by her -unwearied doubts and her sad look. He passionately wished her to feel -that peace from heaven which his own heart had so fully obtained. But her -disobedience always aroused in his stern soul a storm of suppressed rage -and this struggled with his love and usually conquered it. - -Grunya still kept her seat. She did not stir but she listened intently. - -“Now listen,” came to her ears the confident and harsh voice of her -father. “This is the true cross and it is to this cross that we hold in -order to be saved.” - -He raised his hand with two fingers raised, so that all could see. - -“A dissenter,” was the murmur in the crowd. Two or three merchants who -were apparently fond of religious discussions, pressed nearer, when they -heard this unexpected confession. - -“We are not dissenters,” continued Dmitry Parfentyevich. “We confess the -true faith. This was the form of the cross which the holy fathers and the -patriarchs believed in. This was taught by St. Theodoret.” - -He raised his hand with the two fingers joined still higher. - -“Press the thumb against the little finger and the ring finger. That is -to signify the Holy Trinity. Three Persons united. Raise two fingers: -that’s for deity and humanity—two natures. Theodoret teaches again that -the middle finger is to be bent a little. That symbolizes humanity -reverencing deity. See!” - -“Wait!” interrupted one of the merchants who had forced his way to the -front. “St. Cyril says something else.” - -“St. Cyril says the same thing. Only he bids you keep both fingers -straight.” - -“That must make a difference.” - -“Wait, my good man, that’s wrong.... Don’t interrupt....” The speakers -stopped. “Let him finish.... What about the fist, merchant?” - -“Yes ... that’s the main thing.” - -“It’s like this: if he lost his fingers he wasn’t to blame. That means: -God allowed it. It was His will! But a man can’t live without making the -sign of the cross. Without the sign of the cross he’s worse than this -heathen Tatar. He’s bound to cross himself ... with his right hand....” - -“Well?” - -“And his fingers,” concluded Dmitry Parfentyevich after a pause: “His -fingers he must place in thought, as he is ordered by the holy fathers -and patriarchs....” - -The crowd heaved a sigh of relief and joy. - -“Merchant, we thank you!” - -“He decided....” - -“That’s it: he just chewed it up and explained it.” - -“With thought! That’s true!” - -“Of course!... With thought, nothing else!” - -“That will work all right....” - -Dmitry Parfentyevich looked at his daughter.... What did he care for this -applause, these praises from strange, ignorant people! She, his daughter, -kept looking straight ahead with a look of indifference upon her face, as -if her father had said something which she had long known and which had -lost all power to touch her confused and weary soul.... - -The old man frowned and his voice became menacing. - -“If he joins his imaginary thumb with the two imaginary fingers beside -it—he is wrong.... A man who crosses himself that way will be condemned -to eternal damnation.... Cursed be he in this life and he will have no -lot in the next.” - -These violent and harsh words, suddenly falling upon the crowd which had -just quieted down, changed its mood. - -It became excited, began to murmur, separate into smaller groups. -A black-eyed, black-haired merchant, who had maintained hitherto an -obstinate silence, now struck his fist on the table and said with a flash -of his deepset and enthusiastic eyes: - -“True! The Devil Kuka and his whole crew are in that cursed cross with -the thumb and the fingers next to it.” - -“No, stop!” shouted the Orthodox, “don’t insult the true cross! Why do -you separate the Three Persons, c-curses on you?... This is the Trinity -in these three fingers....” - -“Where are your first fingers?” - -“Merchant, have you read the hundred and fifth article?” - -“Yes, it’s on the end of the world.” - -Dmitry Parfentyevich remained the centre of the group. He was still -composed and calm, but each time when he answered any of his opponents, -he transfixed him with a stubborn and unfriendly glance. - -With splashing wheels, the steamboat steadily ascended the river and -cleft the blue surface of the stream; it carried with it this group -of violently quarreling people and the clay slopes of the steep bank -reëchoed their confused voices. - -A steep mountain, which had concealed a bend in the river, now receded -to the rear and a broad sweep of the river appeared in front. The sun -hung like a red ball above the water and from the east, darkness spread -over the meadows as if on the soft wingbeats of the evening shadows, -overtaking the boat and falling more and more noticeably over the Volga. - - -IV - -The silent group of Tatars suddenly rose from their places in the stern -and with even step moved to the paddle box at the edge of the upper deck. -They took off their coats and spread them on the deck. Then they took off -their slippers and reverently stepped upon their coats. The glow of the -sunset fell upon the rough faces of the Tatars. Their thickset figures -were sharply outlined against the light and cooling heavens. - -“They’re praying,” one man whispered and several left the quarreling -group and walked to the railing. - -Others followed. The argument quieted down. - -The Tatars stood with their eyes closed, their brows were raised and -their thoughts were apparently lifted up to that place where the last -rays of daylight were fading on the heights. At times they unlocked -their arms which were crossed on their breasts and placed them on their -knees, and then they bowed their heads with their sheepskin caps, low, so -low. They arose again and stretched their hands with the fingers extended -toward the light. - -The lips of the Moslems were whispering the words of an unknown and -unintelligible prayer.... - -“Look there,” said one peasant, and he stopped hesitatingly, without -expressing his thought. - -“They are fulfilling the rites of their religion,” asserted another. - -“Yes, they’re praying too....” - -The Tatars suddenly knelt, touched their foreheads to the deck, and -at once rose again. The three young men took their coats and slippers -and went back to their former seats on the stern. The old man was left -alone. He sat with his feet crossed under him. His lips moved and over -his beautiful face with its gray beard passed a strange and touching -expression of deep sorrow softened by reverence before the will of the -Most High. His hands quickly fingered his beads. - -“See.... He has beads too.” - -“A zealous man....” - -“Yes, it’s for his son.... He died in Astrakhan,” explained the merchant -who had gone down the river with the Tatars. - -“Oh, oh, oh!” sighed one of them philosophically. “Every man wishes to be -saved. No one wishes to perish, whoever he is, even if he’s a Tatar....” - -It was too dark to tell who was speaking. The group melted together but -the isolated figure of the old man still at his devotions could be seen -at the edge of the paddle box above the water. He was silently swaying -backwards and forwards. - -“Papa!” suddenly came a soft voice. - -It was Grunya calling her father. - -“What is it, daughter?” - -The girl was silent for a moment; she kept looking at that praying figure -of the adherent of an alien faith, and then her young and eager voice -clearly sounded through the quiet: - -“Please, ... what do you think: will God hear that prayer?” - -Grunya spoke softly, but all heard her. It seemed as if a light breeze -had passed along the deck and in more than one soul the question of the -pale girl found response: will God hear that prayer? - -All were silent.... Their eyes involuntarily turned upward, as if they -wished to follow in the blue of the evening sky the invisible flight of -that strange and unintelligible but beautiful prayer.... - -“Why won’t He?...” came the irresolutely soft words of a good-natured -peasant. “You see, he’s not praying to any one else. There’s only one -God.” - -“Yes, the Father. You see, he’s looking to heaven.” - -“Who knows, who knows?...” - -“It’s a hard question—the ways of the Lord....” - -A block creaked at the bow, the light of a golden star flew to the top -of the mast; the waves splashed somewhere in the darkness; the distant -whistle of an almost invisible steamboat reëchoed above the sleeping -river. In the sky the bright stars appeared one after the other, and the -blue night hung noiselessly above the meadows, the mountains and the -ravines of the Volga. - -The earth seemed to be sadly asking some question but the heavens -remained silent with its quiet and its mystery.... - - - - -THE VILLAGE OF GOD - -(A SKETCH FROM A TRAVELER’S NOTEBOOK) - - - - -THE VILLAGE OF GOD - -(A SKETCH FROM A TRAVELER’S NOTEBOOK) - - -I - -Early one summer morning I put my knapsack on my shoulders and set out -from Arzamas. - -Southeast of the city stretched the slopes of a green mountain. A little -white church welcomingly and mildly peered out through the trees which -grew in large numbers among the graves and beside the cemetery on the -pitted sides of the mountain were some strange white spots.... - -As I drew near I saw that these were small and almost toy houses of old -brick with peaked roofs covered with mosses and lichens. Three were -shorter than a man,—one, in the form of a chapel, was taller. The roofs -supported eight-pointed crosses, and on the walls were the dark boards of -ikons. The faces had been worn away by the winds and beaten by the rains. - -I was told in Arzamas that these were all that was left of a unique -village. In earlier times the entire mountainside had been covered with -similar structures, as if a city of dwarfs had been laid out opposite to -the real city with its gigantic churches and its monastery. The people -called this place the “Village of God.” - -Every year, on the Thursday of the Seventh Week after Easter the local -clergy come to this mountain and wave their censers in the air amid these -peculiar houses; the incense perfumes the place and the choir sings: - -“Remember, Lord, Thy slaughtered servants and those who died an unknown -death, whose names, O Lord, Thou knowest....” - -For whom they pray, for whom they sing the requiem, whose sinful souls -are remembered in this prayer,—neither the people of Arzamas who stand -around and pray nor the clergy of Arzamas can tell definitely.... For -them the service in the disappearing “village” is merely a pious and -revered custom, a relic of the hoary past.... - -And this past was sad and bloodstained.... - -Arzamas was once on the frontier. The city guarded the border. The breeze -which raised the dust on the distant steppes here roused great anxiety -and alarm. Some looked toward the steppes with terror, others with uneasy -hopes.... And every spark borne hither on the winds from the Don or the -Volga, found here a goodly supply of inflammable material in oppression, -violence, injustice, slavery, and grievous national suffering. - -This was the soil where was planted the Village of God. - - -II - -It began, according to tradition, in the days of Stepan Timofeyevich -Razin.... The workmen of Stenka robbed even in Arzamas. They fled from -here to the north of Nizhny Novgorod, nested for a while in the village -of Bolshoye Murashkino, and then passed on to Lyskovo and Makary. At -their heels came the generals of the tsar and the bloody vengeance of the -followers of Razin was followed by the not less bloody vengeance of the -tsar. - -During Peter’s reign in 1708, Kondrashka Bulavin sent from the free Don -his “pleasant letters.” “Young atamans, lovers of travel, free people of -every class, thieves and robbers! He who wishes to go with the military -campaigning ataman Kondraty Afanasyevich Bulavin, he who wishes to raid -with him, to travel gloriously, drink and eat as he will, ride over -the open fields on fine horses, let him come to the black mountains -of Samara.” ... So wrote the rebellious ataman to the Cossacks of -the Don, to the Ukraine, and the Zaporozhian Syech. Along the Volga, -through cities north and south, to worthy commanders, flew the message -and also to the villages and towns. In long and business-like letters, -carefully composed with a view to their political effect, he set forth -all the oppressions of nobles and magnates, all the wrongs and injustice -under which the land had long been suffering. The appeals of Kondrashka -inflamed the whole land, more blood was shed, and savage was the -vengeance of the people.... Again from Moscow advanced the regiments of -troops in accordance with the terrible order of Tsar Peter: - -“ ... Go through the cities and villages which have joined the robbers, -burn them to the last straw, slay the people and torture the leaders -on wheel and stake.... For this plague cannot be removed, except by -sternness....” - -In those days there was no lack of sternness and after the pacification -even the cruel tsar wrote to Dolgoruky, not to execute the brother of the -slain Bulavin, for many had joined the revolt from misapprehension or -“from compulsion.” - -The rebels were carried to Arzamas. Scaffolds, stakes, and wheels were -erected along the roads and the city during one of these periods of -vengeance was, in the words of an eye-witness quoted by Solovyev, “like -hell”; for more than a week the groans of the victims of the terrible -tortures filled the air and birds of prey hung over the places of -execution. - -After this pacification arose on the mountainside houses of the “Village -of God,” and the people began to sing the requiems on the hillside.... - -Ere long the bone of the followers of Razin and of Bulavin were joined -by the bones of the banished Stryeltsi (Guards).... Defiantly and in -disobedience to the tsar’s order, they left Vekikiya Luki, whither they -had been sent, and they stoutly resisted the tsar’s General, Shein, -with a large force, but they were defeated in a desperate hand-to-hand -encounter, as they were trying to cut their way through to Moscow to -the Stryeltsi villages where their wives and children were living. The -victorious general filled the prisons and dungeons of Arzamas with the -men who had disobeyed the tsar’s orders. The ring-leaders were punished. -The tsar returning from abroad was dissatisfied with the weakness and the -mildness shown by Shein to the rebels. A judge was sent from Moscow to -make a new investigation.... There were not enough executioners in the -city to administer the new tortures and punishments and more had to be -summoned from Moscow for the occasion.... - -New houses were added to the “Village of God.” ... - -Drenched with blood, the naïve and rebellious dream of the people for -a free life died away until new outbreaks commenced, a dream closely -connected with the old cross and the beard, with Cossack bands, and -with confused memories of the freedom of the steppes. The old injustice -weighed more and more heavily upon them and hardened and increased their -century-old suffering. The memory of the people involuntarily returned -to those who promised freedom and who sealed this promise with their own -and others’ blood.... Time and time again, like stones washed down to the -shore by the raging torrent, new groups of “houses of God” appeared on -the slopes of the mountain of Arzamas. - -At first, perhaps, each grave preserved the memory of a definite man, -his name, and his saint on an ikon. Some one would bring these ikons and -sprinkle the tombs of shame with passionate tears of love and sympathy. -These mourners died.... The wind, the rains, and the sun faded the faces -on the ikons, and along with these there perished the living personal -memory of the people buried here. There remained hanging above the -mountain only a vague tradition and a vague popular feeling, ... a -feeling of sad inability to comprehend, which dared not pronounce its own -judgment and presented this to heaven.... And down the centuries, from -year to year, even to our own times, sounds the solemn prayer for all -those who had been put to death, be they innocent or guilty, and for all -those who died an unknown death.... - -... Whose names, O Lord, Thou knowest.... - - -III - -I heard the following tale in Arzamas. - -It was after the suppression of the rebellion of Razin. The tsar’s -generals had erected near Arzamas a whole forest of columns with -cross-beams and towards evening the city saw in horror, as they looked -from one hill to another, hanging upon them the bodies of atamans and of -the men of Arzamas who had joined the revolt. The bloody sun set behind -the mountain, fearful darkness covered the heavens, and crows swarmed in -clouds around their booty. The people kept asking one another: “Who is -hanging there on the mountain? Criminals and murderers or the defenders -of popular freedom, the avengers of century-old injustices?” - -That same night a young merchant of Arzamas was driving his tired horse -along the road from Saratov and he was urging it on with all his might. -He abandoned far from the city his cart and the wares which he was -bringing from the Volga, and was hurrying ahead without resting at all; -he had learned from fugitives whom he had met that there was something -wrong in the city and that the men of Razin were rioting in it. And he -had left in the city his father and mother and his young wife with her -first-born babe. - -At midnight the young man galloped on his foaming horse out of the forest -on to a hill in sight of his natal city. There was no gleam of fire to be -seen above the city, no alarm bells to be heard. The city seemed dead; -but in two or three of the churches were there timid lights,—perchance -by the dead bodies of “honorable citizens,” who were waiting Christian -burial.... - -Suddenly ... his horse started.... It was at that very place where now -stand the “houses of God.” ... The merchant saw a dread and leafless -forest standing on the mountain side, and, like ripe fruit, the bodies of -good young men hanging on the trees, with crows flapping their wings and -picking out the eyes of the dead. - -The young merchant’s heart had been surging with uncertainty and sorrow -during his hurried journey by day and night, uninterrupted save by the -need of changing his tired horses, and his soul was weighted down as by a -rock with his hatred for the rebels of Razin. He stopped his horse under -one scaffold, rose in his stirrups and with all his strength he lashed -one of the dead bodies and cursed it.... The body swayed.... The chain -creaked and a cloud of crows rose in the air, flapping and cawing. - -A dreadful result followed: the tortured dead descended from every -scaffold, from every wheel, and from every hook and rushed at the -merchant.... The maddened horse tore through the fields, leaped the -ravines, and reached the city utterly exhausted. And throughout the whole -flight, like autumn leaves driven by a gale, dashed after him the shades -of the executed, with their dead eyes aflame, and their fettered hands -grasped after him with curses and moans, and their dead voices wailed, -lamented, cursed.... - -Then the merchant realized that it was not for him to judge those who -were now standing before a far different tribunal, pleading there their -own and others’ sins, their own and others’ wrongs, their own and others’ -blood. In that dreadful hour he took a solemn oath to bury all those who -had been executed and yearly to have a requiem for them. - -Since then, it is said that the houses of God have stood in Arzamas. -Since then the clergy sing the requiem over the nameless graves and the -ikons which have been brought hither do not perish unnoticed.... - - -IV - -It was a clear, calm morning when I went out to the remains of the -Village of God. A tired woman who was driving a lost cow crossed herself, -when she saw the cross of the chapel. A gang of workmen, “panniers” of -Arzamas, were going to their work. A very old peasant, gray as an owl and -with faded but still living eyes, was sitting on the threshold of the -chapel and binding the flaps of his rough boots. The sun had just risen -above the distant forests. - -“Greetings, grandsir,” I said to the old man. - -“Good morning, son.... Where’re you going?” - -“To Sarov.” - -“You’re on the wrong road. There’s the proper way.... To the bridge and -then the village there.” - -“I know, grandsir. I left the road on purpose, so as to see the houses of -God.” - -“Look, son, look.... And pray here too.... It’s a holy place, you -know....” - -“Don’t you know who’s buried here?” - -“Yes, son, yes! People of every class.... Violence!... A Saltykov, a -landowner from the Vyyezdnaya Sloboda, who oppressed the people,—God -forbid.” - -The old man sadly shook his gray beard. - -“You know, old people say,—a merchant was going from Makary to -Arzamas,—and offered thanksgiving for arriving safely. Glory to God—he -was at home! At dawn he went out of the city peacefully and met the lord -and his retainers on the bridge. There was no justice.... They hurled him -from the bridge into the Tesha and in a day or two his body floated to -the city.... It was picked up and buried here, on the mountain. And here -it lies till the Day of Judgment....” - -I was already familiar with the name of this Saltykov: the old records in -the archives of Nizhny Novgorod preserve the dark memories of the acts of -this noble family, and one is well known from the revolt of Pugachev: his -retainers collected the taxes by robbery. When the glad tidings spread -among the people that Petr Fedorovich had made himself known and was -marching to recover his throne, the serfs of Saltykov thought that there -would be an end to their master’s outrages and their necessarily sinful -lives. The mir assembled, seized and bound their lord, put him in a cart -and took him to the “tsar’s camp” for trial. “But,” said one landowner -who described the incident, “the Lord heard the prayers of the innocent -victim and the rascals instead of going to the camp of the pretender, -carried him to the troops of Mikhelson.” - -It goes without saying that the kindly nobleman was quickly released and -the wicked peasants received just punishment. Their bones perhaps joined -those of the followers of Bulavin, the Stryeltsi and the victims of this -same Saltykov. They all lie there together awaiting “the judgment of God” -over all earthly actions.... - -“Yes, there’s the Sloboda,” said the old man, rising to his feet and -pointing to the village with its columns of smoke and with the morning -fog across the river Tesha. “And there, higher up, were the gardens of -Saltykov....” - -“Do you think these houses of God were built since, grandsir?” I asked. - -“N-no, friend! Since! N-no.... Much earlier.... Perhaps since Pugachev.” - -“Who was Pugachev?” - -“Who knows, we are dark people. We heard from our fathers and -grandfathers nothing but Pugachev and Pugachev.... You know the old -story. My father died forty years ago and he was ninety years old when he -died.... And he was still a boy when Pugachev appeared. Count now, how -long ago it was.” - -“A hundred and twenty years, grandsir.” - -“Yes, a hundred and twenty,—and more!... Pugachev was a stern man. Oh, so -stern. You know, he didn’t love the landowners. He’d go into a village. -‘Give me your lords!’ If the peasants hid them,—God forbid! Cruel.... My -father, God bless him, once told me there were two villages side by side. -The people of one guessed right. They took the ikon and went to meet him, -ringing the bells. He pardoned them, rewarded them, gave them a charter -of his favor.... Ours didn’t; the fools didn’t meet him and he burned the -whole village.” - -The old man suddenly looked at me, saw my watchchain and the notebook in -which I began to jot down the main points of his story,—and he suddenly -took off his cap and said: - -“Forgive me, for Christ’s sake!” - -“What’s the matter, grandsir?” - -“That wasn’t so, perhaps.... We’re dark people; how should we know?... -Perhaps he never said it.... But it is true that he was stern.... He -loved order....” - -The old man seemed to be afraid that the gentleman would condemn him for -familiar stories about the high qualities of Pugachev, who “loved order” -and issued “charters of his favor”.... - -I succeeded in calming his anxiety, and we continued to talk. The old -man proved communicative. His memory kept much curious lore and his -simple answers revealed that same vague atmosphere which filled the -place: a feeling of pardoning and timid lack of comprehension, of vague -questioning and of prayer for those who lie here, under the earth, and -perchance had been executed as punishment for crime or perchance had laid -down their lives for a cause punishable here on earth but counted holy -and righteous _there_. - -The group of workmen stopped along with me to hear the almost forgotten -traditions connected with this spot. - - -V - -We went together into the little chapel. Its walls were covered with -regiments of ikons, and at the eastern end was a crucifix also surrounded -by ikons. Gloomy faces, dark boards, bereft of heads.... Oh, so many -were lacking heads.... As if the vague feeling of the simple offerers -had sought thus to express their feeling that the punishments were -undeserved.... - -I was especially surprised by one ikon, of a crucifix painted on the -cubical base. It was not old or had perhaps been renewed and it might -well have been a piece of individual workmanship inspired by the sadness -of this place. On a semi-circular hill with no attempt at perspective -could be seen a severed hand with compressed fingers. Beside it were huge -nails. Hammer and saw were hanging in the air. Fragments of chains.... -A column with a bundle of rods and whips fastened to it were painted -against a background of whirling clouds. But a faint light pierced the -clouds and penetrated the mists like a faint gleam of hope. And as if to -emphasize this idea more clearly, the artist had depicted a cock greeting -the sunrise.... On the top of the column the bird was standing with -vibrating wings and open beak, welcoming the morning.... - - * * * * * - -Silently we left the chapel. Although the interior was not dark,—yet it -seemed to me that in passing out through this low door we were passing -from deep gloom into the light of a clear sky. - -Directly ahead of me little heads of grain waved their brilliant wings as -if they were alive. The churches and monasteries of Arzamas, like lace, -gleamed on the neighboring mountain. The Vyyezdnaya Sloboda with its -little church looked down beautifully into the Tesha. - -“Oh, God,” sighed one of the peasants deeply and slowly. - -What did this sigh express? I do not know. Was it a consciousness of the -difficult conditions of life for the workingmen at this present time? Or -was it a feeling that, no matter how hard conditions were now, yet it was -better to live in the present than in the gloomy night of the past?... I -thought it was the second idea. - -We parted and each went his own way. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Birds of Heaven and Other Stories, by -Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRDS OF HEAVEN AND OTHER STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 60256-0.txt or 60256-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/2/5/60256/ - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -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. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Birds of Heaven and Other Stories - -Author: Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko - -Translator: Clarence Augustus Manning - -Release Date: September 7, 2019 [EBook #60256] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRDS OF HEAVEN AND OTHER STORIES *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<h1>BIRDS OF HEAVEN<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>and Other Stories</i></span></h1> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller">BY</span><br /> -VLADIMIR G. KOROLENKO</p> - -<p class="titlepage"><span class="smaller"><i>Translated from the Russian by</i></span><br /> -CLARENCE AUGUSTUS MANNING, Ph.D.<br /> -<span class="smaller">Lecturer in Slavonic Languages,<br /> -Columbia University</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter titlepage" style="width: 150px;"> -<img src="images/duffield.jpg" width="150" height="200" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="titlepage">NEW YORK<br /> -DUFFIELD & COMPANY<br /> -1919</p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller">Copyright, 1919, by<br /> -DUFFIELD & COMPANY</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="center">TO<br /> -<span class="smcap larger">JOHN DYNELEY PRINCE, Ph.D.</span><br /> -PROFESSOR OF SLAVONIC LANGUAGES<br /> -COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="Contents"> - <tr> - <td></td> - <td class="tdpg smaller">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Birds of Heaven</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#BIRDS_OF_HEAVEN">3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">Isn’t It Terrible?</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#ISNT_IT_TERRIBLE">73</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">“Necessity”</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#NECESSITY">157</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">On the Volga</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#ON_THE_VOLGA">189</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class="smcap">The Village of God</span></td> - <td class="tdpg"><a href="#THE_VILLAGE_OF_GOD">207</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> - -<p>Of all of the more modern authors of Russia, -perhaps none holds a higher rank than Vladimir -Galaktionovich Korolenko. He was born in 1853 -in Zhitomir, in the southern part of the Government -of Volhynia.</p> - -<p>His works show an extensive knowledge of Russia, -through which he travelled very extensively -(partly due to the fact that he was one time banished -for political reasons), and a very keen appreciation -of the beauties and moods of nature. Even -more than this, however, he appreciates very keenly -the hardships and pleasures of the life of the people -and while depicting them realistically, he succeeds -in casting over even sordid and unpleasant -scenes, a veil of poetic beauty and of spiritual -significance, which elevate his work above much of -that produced by his contemporaries.</p> - -<p>The stories in this volume date from the last -part of the nineteenth century, for the most part, -and give a very good idea of the range and variety -of the themes handled by Korolenko and of the -almost mystical treatment which he sometimes employs -and his works in this respect are, if anything, -more typically Russian than are those of his -contemporaries who strive for a brutal and often -repulsive realism.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="BIRDS_OF_HEAVEN">BIRDS OF HEAVEN</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - -<h3>BIRDS OF HEAVEN</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p class="dropcap">That day the monastery was joyously greeting -the ikon. For two months the “Lady” -had been traveling from place to place and now -she was returning home.</p> - -<p>First in their three-horse coaches came the priests -who had accompanied her and who were now bringing -back to the monastery the treasure which they -had collected on their travels. They looked -healthy, well-fed, and satisfied. They were followed -by the motley bands of pilgrims. These -came in greater and greater numbers out of the -forest, until at last the climax was reached with -the gilded covering of the ikon flashing in the sunlight -above the heads of the marchers.</p> - -<p>Bells pealed forth; banners gleamed and waved; -the singing of the choir and the tramping of thousands -of men, like an onrushing river, filled the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -quiet neighborhood of the monastery with uproar -and confusion.</p> - -<p>The place awoke. In the church hymns of -thanksgiving were sung. On the square merchants -and market women called out their wares from -under their linen curtains; from the “institution” -came the sounds of harmonicas and cymbals; in the -huts of the village one set of pilgrims kept replacing -another at the tables on which steamed enormous -samovars.</p> - -<p>Towards evening a hard rain suddenly came up -and drove the crowds and the merchants from the -bazaar. The square and the streets became quiet -and no sound was to be heard save the splashing of -the huge drops in the puddles and the flapping and -blowing of the wet curtains, as they were tossed -by the storm wind. Yes, and in the church the harmonious -singing still continued and the yellow -lights of the candles still flickered on.</p> - -<p>When the clouds suddenly lifted and streamed -off to the east, carrying with them the veil of mist -which had hung over the fields and woods, the sun -reappeared in the west and with its parting rays it -tenderly caressed the windows of the village and -the crosses of the monastery. But the earlier bustle -did not return to the square of the bazaar. The -pilgrims all had a quiet thirst for rest after their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -hard journey and the day ended with the last notes -of the concluding service in the church. Even the -cymbals behind the wall of the “institution” -clashed weakly and dully.</p> - -<p>The service was ended. Within the church the -candles burned out one after the other. The pilgrims -scattered. Little groups of men and -women stood at the door of the guest-house of -the monastery, until the guest-master should grant -admission to those who desired lodging. A fat -monk and two lay brothers came out on the porch -and began to divide the sheep from the goats. The -sheep entered the door; the goats were driven off -and, muttering, made their way to the gates. At -the end of this operation, there remained by the -entrance a group of Mordvin women and a wanderer. -Apparently, their fate had already been -decided by the guest-master who reëntered the -building.</p> - -<p>In a moment the lay brothers came out, counted -the women and admitted them to the women’s -apartments. The older lay brother walked up to -the solitary stranger and said with a bow:</p> - -<p>“Forgive me, for Christ’s sake, Brother Varsonofy.... -The guest-master will not permit you -to stay here.... Go in peace.”</p> - -<p>A sick smile passed over the face of the young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -wanderer and I was surprised by its peculiar, dramatic, -and significant character. The man’s face -was also worthy of notice: hump-nosed, thin, and -with large, glowing eyes. A pointed hat and a -hardly noticeable, but pointed, beard gave the man -an unusual appearance. The whole dry figure -dressed in an old cassock, with a thin neck and a -strong profile, attracted your attention, even -against your will. The impression which it produced -was clear, alarming and disturbing.</p> - -<p>When he heard the words of the lay brother, the -stranger bowed and said:</p> - -<p>“God will save and for this....”</p> - -<p>As he turned to go, he suddenly staggered. He -was clearly sick and extremely tired. The good-hearted -lay brother looked at him and hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Wait, Brother Varsonofy.... I will try -again.”</p> - -<p>The stranger rested on his staff and waited expectantly. -But in a moment the brother again came -out and, walking up with some embarrassment, -said with evident pity:</p> - -<p>“No, he won’t allow it.... Father Nifont told -him that a stranger ... like you ... speaks -badly ... disturbs the people.”</p> - -<p>The stranger’s face showed how he felt. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -eyes flashed, as if he were about to speak, but he -bowed and said:</p> - -<p>“Thank you, fathers....”</p> - -<p>And he wearily went from the door.</p> - -<p>The lay brother looked at me questioningly. I -knew that he was about to shut the gate and so I -went to the outer court. This was already empty. -The young man who sold kalaches (cakes) for the -monastery was behind his stand, but no one came -to it.</p> - -<p>The porter closed one gate behind me and then, -pressing with his feet, he started to close the second. -Just then a scuffle was heard within the gate, -the tramping of several pairs of feet; the opening -again widened and in it appeared an ill-favored -figure in a pilgrim’s costume, reddish and faded. -A rough, hairy hand held it by the collar and directed -its involuntary movements. A vigorous -push.... The stranger flew off several paces and -fell. One wallet and then another sailed after -him.... A small book in a worn leather binding -fell out in the mud and its leaves commenced to -blow in the wind.</p> - -<p>“Look here, ...” said a deep, bass voice behind -the gate. “Don’t quarrel....”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” asked the porter.</p> - -<p>“Why, this,” answered the bass voice. “Because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -of him the guest-master sinned ... turned -a man away.... And he’s a good man. Oh! -Oh!... a real sin....”</p> - -<p>The speaker went away. The porter shut the -gate, but not quite completely; curiosity mastered -him and his little eyes, his fat nose, and his light -mustache could be seen through the crack. He -was following with manifest interest the further -actions of the rejected wanderer.</p> - -<p>The latter quickly rose, gathered up his wallets, -put one on his back, and threw the other over his -shoulder. Then, picking up the book, he carefully -began to clean the mud off of it. Looking around -the court, he caught sight of me and of the kalach-seller. -A group of peasants were watching the little -drama from the outer gates of the square. Deliberately -the stranger assumed an air of dignity, -and, with the most demonstrative devotion, he -kissed the binding of the book and made a sarcastic -bow toward the inner gates.</p> - -<p>“I thank you, holy fathers. As ye have received -the stranger and fed the hungry....”</p> - -<p>Suddenly noticing in the crack of the gate the -mustache and nose of the porter, he said in a different -tone:</p> - -<p>“What are you looking at? Did you recognize -me?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I thought ... yes ... I thought you were familiar,” -said the porter.</p> - -<p>“Of course, of course!... We’re old friends! -We ran off together to the Mordvin women of Sviridov.... -Do you remember now?”</p> - -<p>The porter spat loudly and angrily, closed the -gate, and threw the bolt. But his feet, with their -rough boots, could still be seen beneath the gate.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you remember Fenka, father?”</p> - -<p>The feet disappeared as if ashamed.</p> - -<p>The stranger straightened his muddy cloak and -again looked around. Attracted by the unusual -conversation, some six peasants had strolled towards -the gate. They were the nearest neighbors -to the monastery, Old Believers from the villages -in the vicinity, who had come to the bazaar with an -air of indifferent and even hostile curiosity. Despite -its influence at a distance, the monastery was -surrounded by a ring of the “most venomous” -sectarians, as the monks expressed it. The inhabitants -of the region were positive that in the near -future the monastery would be threatened with the -fate of Sodom and Gomorrah. But still it continued -and attracted thousands of people to -its festivals. On such days the figures of the -Old Believers furnished a grim contrast to the rejoicing -multitudes and their faces reflected their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -hostility and disgust. Like the Prophet Jonah, -they murmured because the Lord delayed in inflicting -the promised doom upon the accursed -Nineveh.</p> - -<p>They were now watching with malevolent curiosity -the scene which was being enacted at the door -of the dishonorable habitation.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter? They won’t let him in, I -see, ...” one said jokingly. “It’s crowded ... -with Mordvin women....”</p> - -<p>The wanderer turned and threw a keen glance at -the speaker. Suddenly his face took on a humble -expression and he walked back to the gate,—and -three times he crossed himself reverently and ostentatiously.</p> - -<p>The peasants looked at one another in surprise; -the stranger had made the sign of the cross not -with three fingers, but in the old way with only -two.</p> - -<p>“The Lord, Who seest all things, will reward the -monks according to their mercy,” he said with a -sigh. “We, brothers, will shake off the dust from -our feet, and listen here, in the temple not made -with hands (he pointed gracefully and calmly to -the evening sky), to an instructive sermon on repentance....”</p> - -<p>The peasants crowded together; their faces expressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -their delighted and also credulous surprise. -The change was too unexpected.... The -idea of holding their own meeting on the alien festival -and of listening at the very gate of the monastery -to a wandering preacher, who made the sign -of the cross in the old way, clearly pleased the adherents -of the old faith. The preacher took his -stand at the base of the bell-tower. The wind ruffled -his dusty, light hair.</p> - -<p>It was hard to tell the man’s precise age, but -he was clearly not old. His face was heavily tanned -and his hair and eyes seemed faded from the action -of sun and storm.</p> - -<p>At each movement of his head, however slight, -the cords of his neck stood out prominently and -trembled. The man gave you, involuntarily, the -impression of something unfortunate, wonderfully -self-controlled and, perchance, evil.</p> - -<p>He began to read aloud. He read well, simply, -and convincingly, and, stopping now and then, he -commented in his own way on what he had read. -Once he glanced at me, but he quickly shifted his -eyes. I thought he did not care for my presence. -After that he turned more often to one of his auditors.</p> - -<p>This was a broad-shouldered, undersized peasant, -whose shape might have been fashioned by two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -or three blows of an axe. In spite of the squareness -of his figure, he seemed very communicative. -He paid the utmost attention to every word -of the preacher and added some remarks of -his own, which expressed his almost childish -joy.</p> - -<p>“Oh, brothers ... my friends,” he said, looking -around.... “It’s so true, what he told us -about repentance.... The end might come.... -You know ... and we’re such sinners ... just -one little sin more and another. Yes, yes....”</p> - -<p>“And that means another and another, ...” -broke in a second.</p> - -<p>“Yes.... You see.... Oh!...”</p> - -<p>With delighted eyes, he looked around the gathering....</p> - -<p>His noisy interruption and his joy apparently -did not please the preacher. The latter suddenly -stopped, turned his head quickly, and the cords of -his neck tightened like ropes.... He wanted to say -something, but he checked himself and turned -a page.</p> - -<p>The congregation had rejoiced too early. At the -very time when they were most highly exalted,—pride -and excessive hope pressed hard on the ladder. -It trembled; the listeners seemed frightened; -the ladder crashed down....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He’s through!” were the sad words of the deep-voiced -peasant.</p> - -<p>“Yes, brother!” chimed in the first. And a -strange thing: he turned his sparkling eyes on all -and the same joy sounded in his voice.... “Now -we have no excuse.... We mustn’t do that first -little sin.”</p> - -<p>The stranger closed his book and for a few seconds -he watched the speaker obstinately. But the -peasant met his gaze with the same joy and trusting -good nature.</p> - -<p>“Do you think so?” asked the preacher.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered the man. “Judge yourself, -my friend.... How long will He suffer us?”</p> - -<p>“Do you think so?” the preacher asked again -with some emphasis, and his voice caused signs of -uneasiness to appear on the other’s face.</p> - -<p>“You know there are limits to the long suffering -of God. You know about the Orthodox Catholic -Church.”</p> - -<p>He turned a few pages and began to read about -the spiritual power of the Orthodox Church. The -faces of his hearers darkened. The preacher -stopped and said:</p> - -<p>“The Orthodox Catholic Church.... Is she -not the means of salvation? He who seeks refuge -in her need not despair. So ... if....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> - -<p>A tense silence prevailed for a few seconds. The -stranger was facing the crowd of peasants and he -felt that he held their feelings in his hands. Not -long since, they had been following him joyfully -and it was not hard to foresee the results of the -sermon: the men of the old faith had been ready to -invite to their homes the man who had been driven -from the monastery. Now they were dumbfounded -and did not know what to think.</p> - -<p>“But if,” continued the stranger, accenting each -word, “any one rejects the one Mother Church ... -expects to be saved in cellars with the rats ... if -he trusts in shaved heads....”</p> - -<p>The peasant with the deep voice suddenly turned -and walked away.</p> - -<p>His good-natured companion glanced around -with an air of disillusionment and a lack of comprehension -and said half-questioningly:</p> - -<p>“Are you shocked?... Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!...”</p> - -<p>He followed the others. The sectarians grimly -went to the gates. The wanderer remained alone. -His figure was outlined sharply against the base of -the tower and there was a strange expression in his -faded blue eyes. Evidently he had intended to -gain by his sermon that lodging which the monks -had denied him. Why had he suddenly changed -his tone?...</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> - -<p>There were now only three of us in the yard: the -wanderer, I and the young fellow under the curtain -of the booth. The stranger glanced at me but -at once turned away and walked up to the dealer. -The young man’s face beamed with joy....</p> - -<p>“That was clever,” he said. “You shocked them -well. They all had their heads shaved. The devils -were threshing peas. Ha, ha, ha!”</p> - -<p>He broke out into a hearty, youthful laugh and -started to put his wares within the shop.</p> - -<p>When he had finished, he closed the swinging -doors and locked them. The shop was well made -and adapted for moving,—it was on wheels and -had a low shelf. The fellow evidently intended to -sleep by his wares.</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s time to go to bed,” he said, looking -at the sky.</p> - -<p>In the yard and behind the gates all was still -and deserted. From the bazaar the wares had all -been carried away. The fellow faced the church, -crossed himself, opened the door a little way and -crawled under his stand.</p> - -<p>His hands soon appeared. He was trying to put -a small screen over the opening.</p> - -<p>The stranger also looked up at the sky, thought -a few seconds, and walked resolutely up to the -shop.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Wait, Mikhailo! I’ll help you like a good -fellow.”</p> - -<p>The pale-faced man let go and looked out of his -quarters.</p> - -<p>“My name’s Anton,” he said simply.</p> - -<p>“Come, Antosha, let me help you.”</p> - -<p>“I’m very glad; thank you. It’s hard to do it -from here.”</p> - -<p>Anton’s simple face disappeared.</p> - -<p>“Please ... move your feet a little.”</p> - -<p>Anton obeyed. The wanderer quietly opened the -door, stooped quickly, and, to my amazement, I -saw him step nimbly into the opening. A scuffle -ensued. Anton moved his feet and part of the -stranger appeared outside for a moment, but without -any delay and almost instantaneously he disappeared -again within.</p> - -<p>Interested by this unexpected turn of events, I -almost instinctively walked up to the booth.</p> - -<p>“I’ll yell, I’ll yell,” I heard the nasal but pitiful -voice of Anton. “The fathers will beat you up -again!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t yell, Misha. What’s the matter?” -argued the wanderer.</p> - -<p>“Why do you keep calling me Misha? I tell -you my name’s Anton.”</p> - -<p>“In the monastic jargon your name will be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -Mikhailo. Remember that.... Hush! Quiet, -Anton, keep still.”</p> - -<p>The booth became silent.</p> - -<p>“What for?” asked Anton. “What do you -hear?”</p> - -<p>“Listen, hear the tapping.... It’s raining.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what of it? Tapping.... If I let -out one shout, the fathers will tap harder on -you.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you keep harping on one thing? I’ll -yell and yell. You’d better not. If you do, I’ll -eat you up. I’ll tell you a good story about a -nun....”</p> - -<p>“I see, you’ve been stealing something.”</p> - -<p>“It’s wrong, Antosha, for you to slander a -stranger. You gave me this one kalach yourself. -I ate nothing—you believe God....”</p> - -<p>“Go ahead and eat a stale one.... I haven’t -eaten them up,” and Anton yawned so hard that -he gave up all thoughts of further resistance.</p> - -<p>“You shocked those blockheads well,” he added -at the end of his strenuous yawn. “You’ve certainly -showed them up.”</p> - -<p>“And the fathers?”</p> - -<p>“The fathers wanted to spit at you.... You -promised to tell me a story. Why don’t you -do it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> - -<p>“In a certain country, in a certain land,” began -the stranger, “in a convent with a stone wall, lived -a nun, brother Antoshenka.... And such a nun.... -Oh, oh, oh!”</p> - -<p>“Yes?...”</p> - -<p>“Yes, she lived there, and grieved.”</p> - -<p>Silence.</p> - -<p>“Well?... Go on.”</p> - -<p>Silence again.</p> - -<p>“Well, go on. What did she grieve about?” -insisted the interested Anton.</p> - -<p>“Go to the devil, that’s what! Why did I start -a story? You know I hoofed it thirty versts to-day. -She grieved about you, you fool, that’s what she -did. Let me sleep!”</p> - -<p>Anton let out a sound of utter exhaustion.</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re a rogue. I see your scheme,” he -said reproachfully.</p> - -<p>“All right, knave,” a minute later but more -softly, and even sorrowfully. “Yes, a knave.... -I never saw such a knave before.”</p> - -<p>All was quiet in the booth. The rain beat harder -and harder on the slanting roof, the earth grew -black, the puddles disappeared in the darkness. -The monastery garden whispered something, and -the buildings behind the wall stood defenceless -against the rain, which pattered on the gutters.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -The guard within the enclosure beat upon his wet -rattle.</p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p>The next day I started back with Andrey Ivanovich, -who had accompanied me on many of my -wanderings. We had been walking not without -having interesting experiences, lodged in the village, -and started off again rather late. The pilgrims -had already left and it was hard to imagine -the crowds which had passed by such a little while -before. The villages seemed busy; the workmen -could be seen as white spots on the fields. The -air was muggy and hot.</p> - -<p>My companion, a tall, thin, nervous man, was -this day especially gloomy and irritable. This -was a not at all uncommon state towards the end -of our joint trips. But this day he was unusually -out of humor and expressed his personal disapproval -of me.</p> - -<p>Towards afternoon, in the heat, we became completely -disgusted with each other. Andrey Ivanovich -either thought it necessary to rest without -any reason in the most inappropriate places, or -wished to push on, when I proposed stopping.</p> - -<p>We finally reached a little bridge. A small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -stream was flowing quietly between the damp green -banks with their nodding heads of grass. The -stream wound along and disappeared behind a bend -amid the waving grain of the meadows.</p> - -<p>“Let’s rest,” I said.</p> - -<p>“We’ve got to be getting on,” answered Andrey -Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>I sat down on the railing and began to smoke. -The tall figure of Andrey Ivanovich went on, -ascended a hill and disappeared.</p> - -<p>I bent over the water and began to meditate. I -thought I was absolutely alone, but I suddenly felt -that some one was looking at me and then on a hill -under some birch trees, I saw two men. One had a -small and almost childish face. He at once hid -from shame in the grass behind the crest of the -hill. The other was the preacher of the preceding -evening. As he lay on the grass, he quietly turned -his bold, gray eyes upon me.</p> - -<p>“Come, join us, we’ll have more fun together,” -he said simply.</p> - -<p>I got up and to my surprise I saw the feet of -Andrey Ivanovich sticking out of the grass by -the road; he was sitting nearby in the boundary -strip, and his cigar smoke was rising above the -tops of the grass. I pretended not to see him and -walked up to the strangers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> - -<p>The one whom I had taken for a child proved to -be a young, sickly creature in a striped cassock, -with thin hair around his narrow, sallow face and -a nose like a bird’s beak. He kept straightening -his cassock, was uneasy, kept moving around and -was clearly ashamed of his condition.</p> - -<p>“Sit down and be our guest,” the preacher suggested -with a slight gesture. Just then the tall -figure of Andrey Ivanovich rose like the shade of -Banquo above the grain.</p> - -<p>“Let’s be going!” he said in a not very kind -tone of voice, as he threw away the butt of his -cigar.</p> - -<p>“I’ll stay here,” I answered.</p> - -<p>“I see you like those parasites better....” And -Andrey Ivanovich glanced at me sorrowfully, as -if he wished to impress upon me the impropriety -of my choice.</p> - -<p>“Yes, there’s more fun here,” I answered.</p> - -<p>“I’m through with you. I hope you remain in -good company.”</p> - -<p>He pulled his cap down over his face and started -off with long strides, but he soon stopped, came -back, and said angrily:</p> - -<p>“Don’t ask me again! You rascal, I’ll never go -with you again. Don’t you dare to ask me! I -refuse.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It’s my business whether I ask you or not.... -Yours is to go or not.”</p> - -<p>“A serious-minded gentleman!” The wanderer -nodded after him as he started off.</p> - -<p>“He doesn’t approve of us,” the little man said -in a voice that was between a sigh and a squeak.</p> - -<p>“What do we care whether he does or not?” -remarked the preacher indifferently. Then he -turned to me:</p> - -<p>“Haven’t you a cigarette, sir?... Please.”</p> - -<p>I held out my case to him. He took out two -cigarettes, lighted one and placed the other beside -him. His small companion interpreted this in a -favorable way and rather irresolutely reached for -the free cigarette. But the preacher, with perfect -composure, took the cigarette out of his hands and -placed it on the other side. The little fellow was -embarrassed, again squeaked from shame and -straightened his robes.</p> - -<p>I gave him a cigarette. This embarrassed him -still more,—his thin, transparent fingers trembled; -he smiled sadly and bashfully.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know how to beg,” he said in shame. -“Avtonomov orders and orders.... But I can’t.”</p> - -<p>“Who’s this Avtonomov?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“That’s me,—Gennady Avtonomov,” said the -preacher with a stern glance at his small companion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -who quailed under the glance and dropped -his sallow face. His thin hair fell and rose.</p> - -<p>“Are you walking for your health, or why?” -Avtonomov asked me.</p> - -<p>“Because I want to.... Where are you going?”</p> - -<p>He looked into the distance and answered:</p> - -<p>“To Paris or nearer, to Italy or further....” -And, noticing that I did not understand, he -added:</p> - -<p>“I was joking.... I am wandering aimlessly -wherever it suits me. For eleven years——”</p> - -<p>He spoke with a faint touch of sadness. Then -he quietly exhaled some tobacco smoke and -watched the blue clouds melt away in the air. His -face had a new expression, a quality I had never -noticed before.</p> - -<p>“A wasted life, signor! A ruined existence, -which deserved a better lot.”</p> - -<p>The sadness disappeared and he concluded -grandiloquently, with a flourish of his cigarette:</p> - -<p>“Yet, good sir, the wanderer will never be willing -to exchange his liberty for luxurious palaces.”</p> - -<p>Just then a bold little bird flew over our heads -like a clod of earth thrown up into the air, perched -on the lowest branch of the birch, and began to -twitter without paying any attention to our presence. -The face of the little wanderer brightened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -and was suffused with a ludicrous kindness. He -kept time with his thin lips and, at the successful -completion of any tune, he looked at us with triumphant, -smiling, and weeping eyes.</p> - -<p>“O God!” he said finally, when the bird flew -away at the end of its song. “A creature of God. -It sang as much as it needed to, it praised Him, -and flew off on its own business. O darling!... -Yes, by heaven, that’s right.”</p> - -<p>He looked at us joyfully, and then became embarrassed, -stopped talking, and straightened his -cassock, but Avtonomov waved his hand and added -like a teacher:</p> - -<p>“Behold the birds of heaven. We, signor, are -the same kind of birds. We sow not, neither do we -reap, nor gather into barns....”</p> - -<p>“You studied in the seminary?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Yes. I could tell a lot about that; only there’s -little worth hearing. But, as you see, the horizon -is being covered with clouds. Up, Ivan Ivanovich; -rise, comrade, rise. The portion of the wanderer -is journeying, not resting. Let us wish you every -sort of blessing.”</p> - -<p>He nodded and started rapidly along the road. -He took free, even strides, leaning on a long staff -and thrusting it back with every step. The wind -blew out the skirts of his cassock, he bent forward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -under his wallet, and his wedge-shaped beard projected -in front. It seemed as if this sun-burned, -dried, and faded figure had been created for the -poor Russian plain with the dark villages in the -distance and the clouds which thoughtfully gathered -in the sky.</p> - -<p>“A scholar!” Ivan Ivanovich shook his head -sadly as he tied up his wallet with trembling hands. -“A most learned man! But he falls to nothing -just as I. On the same plane ... we wander together. -God forgive us, the last....”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Why? How? The modern wanderer has a -good wallet, a cassock or kaftan, boots, for example,—in -a word, equipment for every circumstance, -so to speak. And we! You see yourself. I’m -coming, I’m coming, Gennady Sergeich, I’m coming. -Right away!”</p> - -<p>The little fellow soon overtook his companion. -Thinking that they had reasons for not inviting -me to accompany them, I kept sitting on the hill, -and watching a heavy, dark cloud rise from behind -the woods and spread quietly, sadly, imperceptibly, -almost stealthily over the sky, and then I went -on alone, regretting the controversy with Andrey -Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>It was quiet and sad. The grain waved and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -rustled drily. In the distance, behind the woods, -growled the thunder and at times a large drop of -rain fell.</p> - -<p>It was an empty threat. Towards evening I -came to the village of K. and it had not rained -yet, but the cloud was advancing quietly and -spreading out; it grew dark and the thunder -sounded nearer and nearer.</p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<p>To my surprise, on the bank of earth around one -of the first huts of the village, I saw Andrey -Ivanovich, with his long legs reaching almost to -the very middle of the street. As I approached, -he looked utterly unconcerned.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing, Andrey Ivanovich?”</p> - -<p>“Drinking tea. Did you think I was waiting -for you? Don’t flatter yourself. When the cloud -passes, I’m going on.”</p> - -<p>“Fine.”</p> - -<p>“And your adored——”</p> - -<p>“Who?”</p> - -<p>“Those wanderers, people of God.... Please -see what they’re doing in that hut! Go, look: -it’s nothing; don’t be ashamed....”</p> - -<p>I walked up to the window. The hut was full.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -The peasants of the village were all away on business -and so there were only women present. A -few young women and girls were still running -back and forth past me. The windows were open -and illuminated, and I could hear within the even -voice of Avtonomov. He was teaching the dissenters.</p> - -<p>“Come, join us,” I suddenly heard the low voice -of Ivan Ivanovich. He was standing in a dark -corner near the gate.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing?”</p> - -<p>“Fooling the people. That’s what they’re -doing,” interrupted Andrey Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>The little wanderer coughed, and, squinting at -Andrey Ivanovich, he said:</p> - -<p>“What can we do, sir?”</p> - -<p>He bent toward me and whispered:</p> - -<p>“The old dissenters think Gennady Sergeich is -a runaway priest. It’s dark. What can we do? -We may not get anything. And, besides, there’s -nothing else to do. Won’t you come in?”</p> - -<p>“Let’s go in, Andrey Ivanovich.”</p> - -<p>“What I haven’t seen there?” he answered, -turning away. “Go,—kiss them. I think enough -of myself not to do this, for I wear a cross.”</p> - -<p>“So do we,” Ivan Ivanovich spoke with a mild -tone of reproach.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> - -<p>Andrey Ivanovich whistled suspiciously, and -then, with a serious look on his face, he called -to me:</p> - -<p>“Do you know this disreputable crowd?”</p> - -<p>With an enigmatic glance at me, he added in a -lower tone:</p> - -<p>“Did you understand?”</p> - -<p>“No, I didn’t. Good-bye. If you want to, wait -for me.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve nothing to wait for. Some people don’t -understand....”</p> - -<p>I didn’t hear the rest of the sentence, because I -went into the hut with Ivan Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>Our entrance caused some excitement. The -preacher noticed me and stopped.</p> - -<p>“Oh! We thank you,” he said, pushing the -women aside. “Please. Won’t you have a little -cup of tea? Here’s the samovar, even though it’s -a dissenting village.”</p> - -<p>“Did I disturb you?”</p> - -<p>“What nonsense. Woman, bring the samovar! -Quick!”</p> - -<p>“Do you use that weed, too?” asked a young -woman with a full bosom and bashful, coal-black -eyes, who was standing in the front.</p> - -<p>“If the gentleman will permit,—it will give me -pleasure, ... and I’ll drink another....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<p>“If you please,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Please give me a cigarette.”</p> - -<p>I gave it to him. He lighted it and looked -laughingly at the surprised women. A murmur of -dissatisfaction ran through the hut.</p> - -<p>“Do you suck that?” asked the young woman -spitefully.</p> - -<p>“Of course.... According to the Scriptures, -it is permitted.”</p> - -<p>“In what part?—teach us, please.”</p> - -<p>He smoked on and then he threw the cigarette -over the heads of the women into a basin of water.</p> - -<p>“He’s thrown it away,” said the hostess, fussing -around the samovar.</p> - -<p>“Don’t throw it away, fool; you’ll set the place -on fire,” interrupted another.</p> - -<p>“Afire? If the well won’t stop that, you’d -better put out the fire in the kitchen.”</p> - -<p>“What are you thinking of? Everything is -done nowadays. Even the priests smoke.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, of course. You’ve a voice like a -bell. You ought to be in a convent choir. Come -with me.”</p> - -<p>He reached for her. She cleverly turned aside, -bending her beautiful form, while the other women, -laughing and spitting, ran out of the hut.</p> - -<p>“W-what a priest,” said a thin woman with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -childishly open eyes. She was in evident terror. -“T-teacher!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he’ll teach us.”</p> - -<p>“Teach us,” laughed a soldier’s wife, coming -forward and resting her cheek on her fat hand. -“Teach us something easy and sweet.”</p> - -<p>“Yes! We’ll sigh for you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll teach you. What is your name, beauty?”</p> - -<p>“I’m called what I’m called and nicknamed -Gray Duck. What do you want?”</p> - -<p>“You, Gray Duck. Give us some vodka,—heavens, -they’ll pay up.”</p> - -<p>“Get what? We’ll get it.”</p> - -<p>She looked at me questioningly and cunningly.</p> - -<p>“Please, a little,” I said.</p> - -<p>The soldier’s wife hurried from the hut. Laughing -and pushing, two or three women ran out -after her. The hostess looked displeased but she -put the samovar on the table and without a word -she sat down on the bench and commenced to work. -The children watched us curiously from their plank -beds.</p> - -<p>Laughing and panting, the soldier’s wife put on -the table a bottle of some sort of greenish liquid. -Then she walked away from the table and looked -at us laughingly and boldly. Ivan Ivanovich -coughed from embarrassment and the temporary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -widows still in the hut gazed at us in secret expectation. -After the first cups, the preacher of -the evening lifted the skirts of his cassock and -stamped around the Gray Duck, who avoided his -caresses.</p> - -<p>“Go away!” She waved her hand, and, with a -provokingly challenging glance at me, she walked -up to the table.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you drink? Look at them,—they’ll -finish it, I bet. Go ahead and drink.”</p> - -<p>Smiling and shrugging her shoulders, she filled -a glass and brought it to me.</p> - -<p>“Don’t drink!” These words, in an unexpectedly -venomous tone, came through the window, and -out of the darkness appeared the bony face of -Andrey Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>“Don’t drink the vodka, I tell you!” he repeated, -still more sternly, and again disappeared -in the darkness.</p> - -<p>The soldier’s wife let the glass tremble and -spill. Thoroughly frightened she looked out of the -window.</p> - -<p>“May the power of the cross help us,—what -was that?”</p> - -<p>Everyone felt ill at ease. The vodka was exhausted -and the question was whether to get more -and continue, or to end now. Ivan Ivanovich<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -looked at me in timid sorrow, but I had not the -slightest desire to continue this feast. Avtonomov -suddenly understood this.</p> - -<p>“Really,—it’s time to be going,” he said, walking -towards the window.</p> - -<p>“But it’s raining outdoors,” said the soldier’s -wife, glancing to one side.</p> - -<p>“No. The clouds are all right; ... they look -dry.... Get ready, Ivan Ivanovich.”</p> - -<p>We began to get ready. Ivan Ivanovich went -out first. When I followed him into the dark, -closed yard, he took my hand and said in a low -tone:</p> - -<p>“There’s that long-legged fellow waiting by the -gate.”</p> - -<p>In very truth I made out Andrey Ivanovich by -the entrance. Avtonomov, with his wallet and -staff, came out on the porch, holding the soldier’s -wife by the hand. Both figures could be seen in -the lighted doorway. The soldier’s wife did not -withdraw her hand.</p> - -<p>“Are you going to leave us?” she said in despair. -“We thought—you’d carouse around here.”</p> - -<p>“Wait, I’ll be back,—I’ll get rich.”</p> - -<p>She looked at him and shook her head.</p> - -<p>“Where? You’ll never get rich. You’ll get -along, empty....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Don’t caw, you crow.... Tell me this: does -Irina’s clerk still live by the cemetery?”</p> - -<p>“Stchurovskaya? Yes. He just went to the -bazaar. What do you want?”</p> - -<p>“This. Let’s see.... He had a daughter, -Grunyushka.”</p> - -<p>“She’s married.”</p> - -<p>“Nearby?”</p> - -<p>“To a deacon in the village of Voskresenskoye. -The old woman’s there alone.”</p> - -<p>“You say Irina’s husband hasn’t come back?”</p> - -<p>“He hasn’t been seen.”</p> - -<p>“Is he rich?”</p> - -<p>“No, he lives like everyone else.”</p> - -<p>“Good-bye!... Glasha-a!”</p> - -<p>“Now, now! Don’t call.... You know Glasha -is good and not yours. Go along. There’s nothing -to hang around for.”</p> - -<p>Kindly pity could be heard in the voice of the -village beauty.</p> - -<p>Outside the dark figure of Andrey Ivanovich left -the gate and hurried towards us, while at the -same time Avtonomov overtook us and silently -went ahead of us.</p> - -<p>“You should have stayed till morning,” remarked -Andrey Ivanovich grimly. “I could have -waited here!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That’s foolish,” I answered coldly.</p> - -<p>“How so? Why?”</p> - -<p>“Why?—you could have gone on if you didn’t -like it.”</p> - -<p>“No, thanks for your kindness, I’m not willing -to leave a companion.... I’d rather suffer myself -than leave him.... We’ve been together three -years, Ivan Anisimovich. Trifles don’t count, I’ve -drunk so often in good company....”</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“They took off my vest; three rubles twenty.... -A new pocket book....”</p> - -<p>“If you’re blaming Gennady and me for this,” -began Ivan Ivanovich, hurriedly and excitedly, -“that’s so mean. Why?... If you have any -doubts, we can go ahead or stay behind....”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t pay any attention,” I said, wishing -to quiet the poor fellow.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Avtonomov, stopping. -“What are you talking about?”</p> - -<p>“They’re so suspicious. Lord, have mercy upon -us! Are we really robbers, the Lord forgive the -word?”</p> - -<p>Gennady gazed in the darkness into the face of -Andrey Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>“Oh, the lanky gentleman!... I see!” he said -drily. “The man who never trusts has pleasure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -if all he judges by his measure.’ ... The road -is broad....”</p> - -<p>He again walked forward quickly and his timid -little companion ran after him. Andrey Ivanovich -waited for several seconds. He was surprised that -the stranger had answered in rhythm. He almost -started after him, but I caught his hand.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with you?” I said angrily.</p> - -<p>“You’re sorry for your good companions?” he -said spitefully. “Please, don’t be uneasy. They -won’t go far....”</p> - -<p>In very truth we caught sight of a black figure -near the last houses. It was Ivan Ivanovich, -alone.</p> - -<p>He was standing in the road, panting and -coughing and holding on to his breast.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” I asked sympathetically.</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh! My death!... He went off.... -Gennady.... He ordered me not to go with him.... -To go with you. I can’t catch him.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right. Do you know the road?”</p> - -<p>“It’s the broad road. He hurried on some -place or other.”</p> - -<p>“Fine.”</p> - -<p>We walked along in the darkness.... A dog -barked behind us; I looked around and saw in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -darkness two or three lights in the village, but -they soon disappeared.</p> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<p>It was a quiet, starless night. The horizon could -still be traced as an indistinct line beneath the -clouds, but still lower hung a thick mist, endless, -shapeless, without form or details.</p> - -<p>We walked on quite a while in silence. The -wanderer panted timidly and tried to smother his -cough.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see Avtonomov,” he kept saying, and -he gazed helplessly in the blackness of the -night.</p> - -<p>“We can’t see him.... But he sees us, by -heavens,” said Andrey Ivanovich, spitefully and -ominously.</p> - -<p>The road seemed to be a confused streak, like a -bridge across an abyss.... Everything around -was black and indistinct. Was there or was -there not a light streak on the horizon? There -was not a trace of it now. Was it so short a time, -since we were in that noisy hut with the laughter -and conversation?... Will there be any end to -this night, to this field? Were we moving ahead -or was the road like an endless ribbon slipping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -by under our feet while we remained treading in -the same spot, in the same enchanted patch of -darkness? An involuntary, timid joy sprang up -in my soul when an unseen brook began to babble -ahead of us, when this murmur increased and then -died away behind us, or when a sudden breath of -wind stirred the scarcely visible clumps of willows -beside the road and then died away, a sign that we -had passed them....</p> - -<p>“It’s night now all right,” said Andrey Ivanovich -quietly, and this was very unusual for him. -“A man’s a fool to walk the roads a night like -this. And what are we after, I’d like to know. -We worked during the day, rested, drank our tea, -prayed—for sleep. No, I don’t like it—and then -we started along the roads. It’s better for us. -Here it’s midnight and we haven’t crossed ourselves -yet. We certainly pray!...”</p> - -<p>I made no answer. Thoughts of repentance -seemed still to be running through the head of -Andrey Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>“Women can teach us a little,” he said sternly. -“We don’t stay at home. What do we want?...”</p> - -<p>“Why, I can’t see Avtonomov,” interrupted -the plaintive voice of the young wanderer.</p> - -<p>“Neither can I,” grunted Andrey Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>“What a misfortune!” said the young wanderer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -sorrowfully. “I’ve been abandoned by my -protector....”</p> - -<p>His voice was so filled with despair that we -both looked ahead involuntarily in search of the -lost Avtonomov. Suddenly, rather to one side, we -heard a dull sound as if some one had stepped upon -an old bridge.</p> - -<p>“There he is!” said Andrey Ivanovich. “He -went to the left.”</p> - -<p>“The road must have turned.”</p> - -<p>In truth the road soon forked. We also turned -to the left. Ivan Ivanovich sighed from relief.</p> - -<p>“What are you grieving so over?” asked Andrey -Ivanovich. “Is he your brother or who is he? -He’s a freak, begging your pardon.”</p> - -<p>“He’s closer than a brother. I’d be lost without -him; I can’t beg myself. And in our condition -not to—is absolute ruin....”</p> - -<p>“Why do you wander around?”</p> - -<p>The stranger was silent as if it were hard for -him to answer this question.</p> - -<p>“I’m looking for a shelter. In some monastery.... -Since my youth I have been destined for the -monastic life.”</p> - -<p>“You should live in a monastery.”</p> - -<p>“I have a weakness,” said Ivan Ivanovich, almost -inaudibly and bashfully.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You like drink.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s it. I was spoiled as a child.”</p> - -<p>“Too bad!... The devil’s to blame for it.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the devil.... Of course.... Formerly, -when the people were serfs, <i>he</i> had a lot of work: -he wrestled with the monotonous life, we’ll say.... -They all saw him.... And, just think, they struggled -just the same.... Now it’s our weakness.... -The people are all inclined to it.”</p> - -<p>“Y-yes,” assented Andrey Ivanovich. “It’s -much easier now for the impure.... He lives -with us, by heavens. Lie, dear, on the stove.... -We’ll come to see you and bring one another.... -Only entertain us.”</p> - -<p>The stranger heaved a deep sigh.</p> - -<p>“That is the truth!” he said sadly. “I’ll -tell you about myself,” he whispered, as if he -did not wish his words to be heard by any one in -the blackness along the road. “Do you know who -ruined me? My own mother and my father -superior!”</p> - -<p>“Wh-what?” queried Andrey Ivanovich, also -in a low tone.</p> - -<p>“Yes!... I know it’s sinful to blame my dead -mother,—may she rest in peace!” He took off his -hat and crossed himself. “And yet I keep thinking: -if she had had me taught a trade, I might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -have been a man like the others.... No, she -wanted her child to have an easy life, the Lord -forgive her....”</p> - -<p>“Go on, go on!” urged Andrey Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>“You know,” continued Ivan Ivanovich sadly, -“in old times, as the books say, parents always -objected and children went secretly to the monastic -cell to devote themselves.... But my mother took -me herself to the monastery; she wanted me to -become a clerk.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes!”</p> - -<p>“And before that, I must tell you, they used -to make them psalmists and so on, ... but they -had changed by my time!”</p> - -<p>“That’s the rank!”</p> - -<p>“Yes!... And mother again! stay there in -the monastery.... That’s an easy life. And the -superior loves you.... That’s the truth: the -father superior did love me and took me as a -novice under his own charge. But if a man is -doomed, fortune will become misfortune. I’ll tell -you the truth: I fell because of an angel ... not -because of the devil....”</p> - -<p>“What are you telling us?” said Andrey Ivanovich -in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Just the truth.... Our superior was a wonderfully -kind soul, not evil, and strict.... But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -he had a secret weakness; at times he’d drink. -Quietly, nobly. He’d shut himself up and drink -for three or four days. No more than that. Then -he’d all at once stop it.... He was a strong man.... -But once, in that condition, he got bored. -And he called me and said: ‘Dear boy, mortify -yourself. Vanya, obey me and do something you -don’t want to. An innocent boy, stay with me, -a hardened sinner.’ Well, I did it, and sat and -listened how he talked with some one and wept -over that weakness of his.... I wasn’t strong, -and when I got tired I fell asleep. He said: -‘Vanya, take a drop to brace you up.’ And I -drank a glass of brandy.... ‘But swear to me,’ -he said, ‘that you’ll never drink a drop alone without -me.’”</p> - -<p>“So that’s it,” drawled Andrey Ivanovich -meaningly.</p> - -<p>“Of course I swore. And he gave me another -glass.... And so it went. At first a little, -then—— The father superior was a strong man. -No matter how much he drank, he was still steady. -But, you know, after three or four glasses, my -feet went.... He remembered himself and forbade -me solemnly. It was too late. I didn’t -drink with him and I had the keys to the chest.... -I began to take a nip secretly.... Another<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -and a larger one.... A second time I couldn’t -walk. He thought at first that it was from that -first drunkenness, because of my weakness. Then -he looked at me steadily and said: ‘Vanyushka, -do you want a glass?’ I trembled all over from -my longing for it. He guessed the truth. He -took his staff, caught it in my hair, and reasoned -with me.... He was strong and afraid of hurting -me.... It did no good. Again and again.... -He saw that his weakness was ruining me. He -said to me: ‘Forgive me, Vanyushka, but you must -pass through temptation or you’ll be ruined.... -Go and wander.... When you meet sorrow you -can be healed. I will pray for you. Come back -in a year,’ he said, ‘on this same date. I will receive -you like the prodigal son.’ He blessed me. -Began to weep. Called the rufalny, that is, the -monk who had charge of the habits, and ordered -him to get me ready to wander.... He himself -said the prayers for a brother who is going on a -journey.... And forth I went, the servant of the -Lord, on the twenty-ninth of August, the day of -the Beheading of St. John Baptist, for a period -of wandering....”</p> - -<p>The narrator again stopped, drew his breath, -and coughed. Andrey Ivanovich sympathetically -stopped walking and the three of us stood in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -dark road. Finally Ivan Ivanovich was rested -and we started on again....</p> - -<p>“So I traveled summer and winter. It was hard -work and I had many sorrows. Yes! I went to -various monasteries. Some places I didn’t get -into the courtyard,—others I didn’t like. Our -monastery was supported by the state and rich and -I’d gotten accustomed to an easy life. And I -couldn’t get into another state monastery, but -they took me into one where all the monks lived -together, that of St. Cyril of Novoye Ozero, and it -was awful: we got little tea and not a bit of tobacco; -the monks were all peasants.... A hard -rule and a lot of work....”</p> - -<p>“I bet you didn’t like that after your easy -life,” said Andrey Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>“To tell the truth, I wasn’t strong enough,” -sighed Ivan Ivanovich humbly. “The burden was -too great.... And sanctity looked unpleasant in -that garb. There was no splendor.... A lot of -people and no choir.... They did make an awful -noise....”</p> - -<p>“That’s sanctity!” said Andrey Ivanovich with -conviction.</p> - -<p>“No, let me tell you,” answered Ivan Ivanovich -no less emphatically.... “You’re wrong.... -That doesn’t determine the kind of monastery. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -monk must be trained and have a head like a -blade of grass ... and hold himself up.... That -makes a fine monk and there’s mighty few of them. -And the simple monk is smooth and clean with a -velvety voice. Benefactors and women go wild -over them. But a peasant, let me tell you, is no -account even there....”</p> - -<p>“All right.... What next?” said Andrey Ivanovich, -a little surprised at the decided opinion of -the expert.</p> - -<p>“What next?” answered the wanderer sadly. -“I wandered for a year. I fasted and wandered.... -The worst was that my conscience bothered -me; I didn’t know how to beg. I waited and -waited for that year to end,—to go home, home, -to my poor cell. I thought of the father superior -as if he were my own father; I loved him so. -Finally August twenty-ninth came. I went into -the courtyard, you know, and somehow I felt badly. -Our attendants came to the gate.... They knew -me. ‘Wanderer Ivan, have you returned?’ ‘I -have,’ was my reply. ‘Is my benefactor alive?’ -‘Too late,’ was the answer. ‘He was buried some -time ago. He was deemed worthy; he went away -with the collect of the Resurrection. He remembered -you ... and wept.... He wanted to reward -you.... We’ve got a new superior, ... a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -barbarian. Don’t let him see you?’ But,” he -added, plaintively, “I can’t see Avtonomov.”</p> - -<p>His voice betrayed his terror and sorrow.</p> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<p>Andrey Ivanovich stared into the darkness and -suddenly he caught hold of my hand, exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Stop! We shouldn’t have come.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>“I told the truth. Don’t chase on after them! -Wait for me.... I’ll run and see....”</p> - -<p>He quickly disappeared in the darkness. I -stayed with Ivan Ivanovich in the road. When -the steps of the bootmaker died away, we heard -merely the quiet noises of the night. The grass -rustled gently; at times a rail whistled as it ran -nervously from place to place. In the vague distance -the frogs were croaking dreamily and playing -in the swamp. Hardly visible clouds were -rising.</p> - -<p>“That’s just like him.... My comrade loves -to walk at night,” complained Ivan Ivanovich. -“What’s the use of it? Why not by day?”</p> - -<p>“Was he in a monastery too?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered Ivan Ivanovich. Then, with -a sigh, “He’s from a good family. His father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -was a deacon in the city of N. You may have -heard of him.... His brother is a secretary in a -police office. He was betrothed....”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t he marry?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you see, he’d already gone wrong.... -He ran away ... but he wasn’t a wanderer yet. -He had the outfit but he didn’t wander.... He -passed as a suitor. He was accepted. The girl -loved him, and her father didn’t object.... Oh!... -Oh!... Of course, it was sinful, ... he deceived -them. Sometimes, when he tells about it, -you’ll cry, and then again it’s really funny.”</p> - -<p>Ivan Ivanovich acted strangely. He laughed -and then began to choke and put his hand over -his mouth. At first you could hardly tell he was -laughing. But he really was,—an hysterical, bashful, -rather explosive laugh, which ended like a -cough. When he quieted down, Ivan Ivanovich -said, half-pityingly:</p> - -<p>“Only he tells it different every time.... You -can’t tell whether it’s the truth or not.”</p> - -<p>“He wouldn’t lie?”</p> - -<p>“Not exactly, ... but he’s not always accurate. -You see, the truth——”</p> - -<p>“Just what does he say?”</p> - -<p>“You know, the clerk, he says, was clever. He -saw the young man wasting his time, really doing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -nothing. He pretended to go to a bazaar,—so he -went to the city, left the old woman in the house, -and gave her strict orders to keep an eye on him. -Avtonomov, you see, didn’t live with them, but -in the village with the woman who baked the bread -for the church.... He kept visiting them.... -Every day.... They’d sit by the river bank.... -And the old woman was there, too. And, of course, -she watched them.... One time, my dear little -Avtonomov saw two men coming from the city in -a cart—and both drunk. They came up and -turned out to be the clerk and his older brother, -the secretary. He hadn’t even looked around—when -they landed on him and licked him. The -reason why: his brother, because he ran away from -the seminary; the clerk, for deceiving and disgracing -him....”</p> - -<p>Ivan Ivanovich sighed.</p> - -<p>“He hardly got off alive, he says.... They -were both angry and drunk.... He ran to the -house where he was living, grabbed his wallet, and -off into the woods.... Since then, he says, he’s -been wandering.... But, another time, he really -... tells something else.”</p> - -<p>He came nearer to me and wanted to tell me -something very confidentially. But suddenly out -of the darkness near us came the figure of Andrey<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -Ivanovich. He walked rapidly with a deliberately -menacing scowl.</p> - -<p>“Come here, if you please.” He took me aside -and whispered:</p> - -<p>“You and I are in a nice mess!”</p> - -<p>“How?”</p> - -<p>“This Avtonomov, the monk, seems to have gone -off to steal.... We’ll get into trouble over him -yet....”</p> - -<p>“That’s enough, Andrey Ivanovich.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, for you. Did you hear what he asked in -the village? Of the soldier’s wife? About a certain -clerk? Is the clerk actually at home or not?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I remember.”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember where that clerk lived?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, by a cemetery.”</p> - -<p>“There it is!” said Andrey Ivanovich maliciously, -pointing ahead in the darkness.</p> - -<p>“What of it?”</p> - -<p>“Just this.... The old woman, you heard, is -alone.... And he went right there.... He -walked around the yard and looked. You’ll see -for yourself.... That’s the sort of a fellow -you wanted to drop an old companion for.... If -he’d crossed the bridge without a board creaking, -we’d have gone straight along the road.... I -turned aside.... Let’s go ahead quietly.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> - -<p>Behind us some one coughed plaintively. Andrey -Ivanovich looked around and said:</p> - -<p>“Come with us, novice.... What can we do -with you? You love your comrade.”</p> - -<p>We crossed the bridge, followed the road and -came to the cemetery. On the hill a little light -shone through the trees. I saw the whitish walls -of a small house, perched on the edge of a hill, -and behind it was the dark outline of a bell-tower. -Below on the right it was easier to imagine than -to see the little stream.</p> - -<p>“There he is,” said Andrey Ivanovich. “Do -you see him?”</p> - -<p>Not far from us, between the wall and the -slope, near an arbor covered with foliage, was a -figure. A man seemed to be crowded against and -fastened to the fence and looking through the -bushes. By the light of the window, I saw the -pointed cap, the long neck, and the familiar profile -of Avtonomov. The light streamed out -through the trees and lilac blossoms. When I -went nearer, I saw in the window the head of -an old woman in a cap and with horn spectacles. -Her head nodded like that of a man who is working -when he is terribly sleepy, and the needles -moved rapidly in her hands. The old woman was -evidently waiting for her husband to return.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> - -<p>Suddenly she listened.... An irresolute call -came out of the darkness:</p> - -<p>“Olimpiada Nikolayevna!”</p> - -<p>The old woman looked out of the window but -saw no one.</p> - -<p>A moment of silence, and then the same call was -repeated:</p> - -<p>“Olimpiada Nikolayevna!”</p> - -<p>I did not recognize Avtonomov’s voice. It -seemed soft and timid.</p> - -<p>“Who’s there?” The old woman suddenly -started. “Who called me?”</p> - -<p>“It’s I.... Don’t you remember Avtonomov?... -We used to know each other....”</p> - -<p>“Avtonomov, mercy.... We never knew any -one of that name.... I don’t know you.... -Wait a moment and I’ll call some one. Fedosya, -oh, Fedosya!... Come here quick....”</p> - -<p>“Don’t call, mother.... I won’t disturb you.... -Have you really forgotten Avtonomov?... -I used to be called Genasha....”</p> - -<p>The old woman got up, took the candle and -held it out of the window. There was no breeze. -The flame burned steadily and illuminated the -bushes, the walls of the house, and the wrinkled -face of the old woman with her glasses pressed -up on her forehead.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That voice sounded familiar.... Where are -you?... If you’re a good man——”</p> - -<p>She held the candle above her head and the -light fell on Avtonomov. The old woman staggered, -but just then another woman entered the -room. The old woman grew bolder and again -threw the light on Avtonomov.</p> - -<p>“Fine,” she said coldly. “The suitor, of course.... -What are you walking around under the -window for?...”</p> - -<p>“I happened to be passing, Olimpiada Nikolayevna——”</p> - -<p>“Passing, and would pass.... See here, when -the master returns, he’ll set the dogs on you.”</p> - -<p>She closed the window and lowered the curtain. -The bushes disappeared, and the figure of Avtonomov -was lost in the darkness.</p> - -<p>We could then think of leaving, and we quickly -descended the hillock.... In a few minutes we -heard the bells in the tower. Some one apparently -wanted to show that there were people in the -cemetery....</p> - -<p>Andrey Ivanovich walked slowly and thoughtfully. -Ivan Ivanovich ran panting at a dog trot -and constantly stifling his cough.... When we -had reached a proper distance he stopped and said -again with indescribable sorrow:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> - -<p>“We’ve lost Avtonomov....”</p> - -<p>His voice was so despairing that Andrey Ivanovich -and I involuntarily felt sorry for him. We -stopped and began to peer into the darkness.</p> - -<p>“He’s coming,” said Andrey Ivanovich, straining -his lynx-like eyes.</p> - -<p>In very truth we soon saw behind us a strange -shape like a moving tree. Avtonomov had large -bunches of lilacs in his belt, on his shoulders, and -in his hands, and even his cap was decorated with -flowers. When he caught up with us he had perfect -control of himself and seemed neither glad -nor astonished. He walked on along the road and -the branches waved about him in a very peculiar -manner.</p> - -<p>“It’s great to walk at night, signor,” he began -grandiloquently, like an actor. “The fields are -clothed in darkness.... There’s a grove on one -side.... See how peaceful it is! The nightingale -pours forth its melody....”</p> - -<p>He almost declaimed this but yet his voice -showed that he was a little exasperated.</p> - -<p>“Wouldn’t you like a spray from my garden, -signor?”</p> - -<p>With a theatrical gesture, he offered me a branch -of lilacs.</p> - -<p>Near the road a nightingale sang timidly and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -irresolutely. In the distance, in answer to the -bells from the cemetery, came another, and we -could hear the noise of a rattle. Somewhere -on the dark plain dogs were barking.... -The night grew darker and it began to feel like -rain....</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” Avtonomov suddenly began at random, -“I got separated from you by the cemetery. -I have an old friend who lives there, a real old -friend. If he’d been home, we’d all have gotten -lodging and something to eat.... The old woman -asked me to stop, ... but without her husband——”</p> - -<p>Ivan Ivanovich cleared his throat. The bootmaker -snorted ironically.</p> - -<p>Avtonomov must have guessed that we had seen -more than he thought, for he turned to me and -said:</p> - -<p>“Judge not, signor, that ye be not judged.... -Another’s soul, signor, is dark.... Some time,” -he added resolutely, “believe me, I’ll come here, -... and I’ll be entertained.... And then....”</p> - -<p>“And then?”</p> - -<p>“Oh!... we’ll be entertained.... Drink till -you can’t see.... And I’ll crow over it....”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Why! This place should be like any other.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -But yet, signor, it appeals to me.... The -past....”</p> - -<p>He walked on more rapidly.</p> - -<p>We passed by a little village and reached the -last hut. Its small windows looked out sightlessly -into the dark field.... All were sleeping within.</p> - -<p>Avtonomov suddenly walked up to the window -and tapped sharply on the pane. An indistinct -face appeared behind it.</p> - -<p>“Who’s there?” asked a dull voice, and a frightened -face was pressed against the glass. “Who’s -coming around this time of night?”</p> - -<p>“The d-devil,” drawled Avtonomov in a piercing, -evil tone, and he stuck his head with its floral -decorations against the pane.... The face within -disappeared in terror.... Dogs began to bark in -the village; the guard struck his rattle; the dark -plain went on guard.... Again somewhere in the -distance the sleeping churches droned forth their -prolonged notes, as if to defend the peaceful region -from some unknown evil. As if they felt that -above them was hanging the menace of certain -dark and hopelessly ruined lives.</p> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<p>We walked for more than an hour through the -dark fields. Weariness claimed its own and we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -neither wished to speak nor listen. At first I kept -on thinking and tried in the darkness to imagine -the appearance of my companions. This worked -with Andrey Ivanovich, whom I knew well, and -also with the little wanderer, but I had forgotten -the features of Avtonomov, and as I looked at his -dark form I could not recall his face.... Avtonomov -at the clerk’s house and yesterday’s preacher -seemed two distinct people.</p> - -<p>My thoughts became still more confused; several -days of tramping,—the dull night, the silence, -the heavy, muddy road or the absence of one,—this -was all that I could learn from my great -weariness, and I began to lose myself as I walked -along. It was a sort of semi-consciousness which -permitted fantastic dreams strangely intertwined -with reality. But reality for me was merely the -dark road and three misty shapes, now behind me, -now driving me onward.... I went with them -almost unconsciously.</p> - -<p>When I partially awoke, they were standing in -the road and arguing.</p> - -<p>“Open your eyes,” said the bootmaker, angrily -but lazily.</p> - -<p>“Thanks for your explanation,—I wouldn’t -have guessed it,” answered the wanderer. “Don’t -you know, signor, how to get to the road?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p> - -<p>I looked out lazily into the darkness. With its -arms disappearing among the clouds, a huge black -windmill towered above us; behind and beside it -were others. I thought the whole field was dotted -with windmills, silent but menacing....</p> - -<p>“I’ve been spitting all night to beat this devil,” -said Andrey Ivanovich venomously.</p> - -<p>“Well, just keep still a little while, lanky -signor,” said Avtonomov. “Listen!...”</p> - -<p>“Grinding?” said Andrey Ivanovich questioningly....</p> - -<p>“Right,” answered Avtonomov cheerfully. -“The wheels are working. What a jolly little -river!”</p> - -<p>“Is it far?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, by the road. We’ll take a short cut.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll land us in the swamp, you devil....”</p> - -<p>My feet carried me through the darkness after -the three dark figures. I stumbled over the stubble -or the hummocks, and they threw me forward or -to the side.... If I had met a ravine or a river,—I -would probably have waked up at the bottom.... -At times strange phantoms leaped and flew from -my head into the unshapen fog.</p> - -<p>Finally I ceased to stumble over hummocks. I -felt a level road beneath my feet and I heard an -even, kindly hum. Water was pouring, roaring,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -running, splashing and foaming, telling of something -interesting, but too confused.... The noise -stopped, but suddenly it became louder, as if the -water were pouring through a dam.... I woke up -completely and looked around in surprise.... -Andrey Ivanovich caught me from behind. He -took my arm and pushed me ahead....</p> - -<p>“Wake up ... you’ll sleep when you’re walking.... -We’re tied up with the devil and may -God forgive us!... If the peasants come out, -they’ll break our necks.... Quick, quick.... -See Ivan Ivanovich go with his cassock held -up....”</p> - -<p>Indeed, the little wanderer was running with a -speed that surprised me.</p> - -<p>“Here ... here....”</p> - -<p>Without understanding what had happened, I -found myself hidden in the thick willows on the -bank of a little stream. Ivan Ivanovich was panting.... -Avtonomov was not with us. Near by -the mill was roaring. The water raged and poured -through the open sluices. One wheel was turning -heavily as before,—another seemed locked,—it -trembled and groaned beneath the assaults of the -water. A dog was pulling at his chain and howling -with anger.</p> - -<p>A window in the mill lighted up as if the building<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -had waked and opened one eye. A door creaked and -the old miller in a white shirt and trousers came -out on the platform with a lantern. Behind him -came another man, yawning and stretching.</p> - -<p>“Did the dam go out?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“It certainly did,—hear it roar in the sluice-ways; -it almost broke the bars.... Just look.... -Oh, ye saints....”</p> - -<p>“Just look; they’re open.”</p> - -<p>“What the devil! Who opened them?”</p> - -<p>The peasants went to the sluices. The roar soon -died away; they pushed both bolts and the mill -stopped. The light of the lantern slowly crawled -back along the dam and again disappeared. Then -a rattle sounded shrilly. One peasant was evidently -still on guard....</p> - -<p>The unusual commotion at the mill, sounding -across the fields, again roused the sleeping villages. -It was surprising how many of them were hidden -in the darkness. From all sides, in front, behind, -almost beneath, they answered the alarm with the -beating of boards and rattles. The slow peal of a -bell floated up from a distant village or a cemetery. -Near by some night bird called.</p> - -<p>“Let’s go,” said Andrey Ivanovich, when the -mill had become quiet.... “One rascal can so -disturb people.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Ask him,” said the bootmaker spitefully, and -he pointed to Ivan Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>“Y-yes,” answered the wanderer sadly. “Of -course, it’s outrageous.... I don’t approve of -it....”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter? Where’s Avtonomov?”</p> - -<p>“There he is—calling like a bird and making -signs to us.... Come here, my dear companions.... -How the rascal managed to open the -sluices, I didn’t happen to notice. You, too!... -You’ll follow him and sleep. If you’d kept on ... -and the peasants had appeared before,—there’d -have been a picnic. You bet! I’ll catch that devil -and don’t you interfere. I’ll turn him inside out -and run his feet out through his throat!...”</p> - -<p>He started ahead with his mind made up.</p> - -<h4>VII</h4> - -<p>Andrey Ivanovich did not carry out his savage -intentions and in a half hour we were -again walking silently along the road.... It was -not yet sunrise, but the white, milky streaks kept -breaking through the clouds, and beneath our feet -we could see the whitish fog which covered the -whole plain. Suddenly the fog opened and showed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -us a horse’s head and a cart loaded with sacks and -a peasant sleeping on them and another empty cart -behind it.</p> - -<p>“Uncle, hey, uncle,” said Andrey Ivanovich to -the second peasant, “won’t you take us along?”</p> - -<p>The peasant rubbed his sleepy eyes and looked -with amazement at the crowd which had surrounded -him.</p> - -<p>“Where did God bring you from?”</p> - -<p>“A pilgrimage.”</p> - -<p>“So, so! Sit down, but I can’t take you far; -we’re from around here.”</p> - -<p>“You’re not from the mill?”</p> - -<p>“They were at the mill, but I’m empty. Sit -down; that’s right.”</p> - -<p>We got into the cart and sat down, letting our -feet hang.</p> - -<p>“Let me ask you a question,” said our guide, -clucking to his horse; “have you been walking all -night?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t hear anything, did you?”</p> - -<p>“Some dogs barking in the distance. Why?”</p> - -<p>“Why? Some one opened the sluices in the mill -and almost smashed the wheels.”</p> - -<p>“Who was it?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know! Some one got fooling around at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -night. In our little village near by, they say, the -fellow asked to be taken in. A peasant looked out, -but he said: ‘I’m the devil, let me in.’”</p> - -<p>“He was,” said Avtonomov, who had discarded -his decorations some time before.</p> - -<p>“He wasn’t.... I’ll never believe it.... And -I won’t let you either.” Andrey Ivanovich spoke -ardently and decidedly to the peasant. “Some -rascals have been deceiving you country people.... -Your simplicity....”</p> - -<p>“There are people who do not believe in God and -the Saints,” said Avtonomov, with the greatest -humility and composure.</p> - -<p>Andrey Ivanovich gritted his teeth and showed -Avtonomov his fist, when the peasant was not looking.</p> - -<h4>VIII</h4> - -<p>About noon we reached my home in the same -kind of a cart. This we had happened to meet at -the edge of the city. The cart stopped at the gate. -Our picturesque company attracted the attention -of several passers-by, a thing that clearly annoyed -Andrey Ivanovich.... I asked my companion to -come in and rest and have some tea.</p> - -<p>“Thanks, I haven’t far to go,” answered the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -bootmaker coldly. He threw his wallet on his back -and, then, without ceremony, he pointed at Avtonomov.</p> - -<p>“Are you inviting him in?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I’m inviting Gennady Sergeyevich,” I -answered.</p> - -<p>Andrey Ivanovich turned sharply and, without -saying good-bye, he started down the street.</p> - -<p>Ivan Ivanovich looked desperately frightened, -as if my invitation had caught him in a trap. He -looked appealingly at Avtonomov, and shame at -being present tortured his whole figure. Avtonomov -asked simply:</p> - -<p>“Where are we going?”</p> - -<p>While the samovar was being heated, I asked the -servants to gather up some superfluous clothes and -linen and offered my companions a change of -attire. Avtonomov at once consented, tied them -all in one bundle and said:</p> - -<p>“We’ve got to have a bath....”</p> - -<p>Of course, I did not object. Both wanderers -came back from the bath transformed. Ivan Ivanovich, -in a coat which was too broad and trousers -which were too long and with his thin hair, looked -astonishingly like a woman in man’s clothes. As far -as Avtonomov was concerned, he was not satisfied -with the conventional amount of clothing, but he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -had put on everything which had been given him -to choose from. He was wearing, consequently, a -blue shirt, a blouse, two vests, and a coat. The -shirt stuck up above the collar of the blouse and -reached below it,—it was so much longer. The -edge of the blouse was visible and the coat seemed -to form a third layer.... At the tea table Ivan -Ivanovich was so miserable that we let him take -his cup into the kitchen, where he sat down in one -corner and immediately won the sympathy of our -cook.</p> - -<p>Avtonomov acted recklessly, called my mother -signora and jumped up every minute in order to -serve something.</p> - -<p>After tea he looked himself over from head to -foot and said, with an air of satisfaction:</p> - -<p>“In this costume my brother-in-law won’t be -ashamed of me.... I’ll go see my sister.... She -lives near here. May I leave my wallet in your -hall, signora?”</p> - -<p>When he went to the gate, Ivan Ivanovich ran -after him in terror. After a short conversation -Avtonomov permitted the poor fellow to follow him -at some distance.</p> - -<p>Ivan Ivanovich soon returned alone. His bird-like -face beamed with surprise and delight.</p> - -<p>“They received him,” he said, clearing his throat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -joyfully. “That’s the solemn truth. He really -has a sister. And a brother-in-law.... Please go -past, accidentally.... You’ll see it, too.... As -God is true, they’re sitting in a garden entertaining -him ... like a brother. His sister’s weeping -from joy....”</p> - -<p>From the breast of the little wanderer came -strange sounds like hysterical laughing and weeping.</p> - -<p>In an hour Avtonomov appeared, transfigured -and triumphant. He came up to me, fervently -grasped my hand, and pressed it till it hurt.</p> - -<p>“Through you I’ve found my relatives.... -Yes.... That’s it! Till death....”</p> - -<p>He pressed my hand still harder, then convulsively -released it and turned away. Apparently -the brother-in-law, who was not without influence -in the consistory, believed in Avtonomov’s reformation -and decided to help him. It was also necessary -to get certain papers from Uglich and....</p> - -<p>“Back here again! My wanderings are ended, -signor.... I won’t forsake you, Vanya.... I’ll -give you a corner and food.... Live.... I’ll be -responsible.... You’ll get quarters ... also....”</p> - -<p>As I listened to this conversation, involuntary -doubts crept into my mind, the more so as Avtonomov -had resumed his grandiloquent manner and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -kept using more and more frequently the word -signor....</p> - -<p>Towards evening the two set out “for Uglich to -get the papers.” Avtonomov gave me a solemn -promise to return in a week “to begin his new -life.”</p> - -<p>“Is this all that was necessary for this ‘miracle?’” -I thought doubtfully....</p> - -<h4>IX</h4> - -<p>The weather suddenly changed.... A wonderful -early spring seemed to be replaced by -late, cold autumn.... It rained hard for days -and the wind howled amid the rain and the fog.</p> - -<p>One cold morning of this kind I awoke late and -was trying to guess the time when I heard a light -noise and a strange whistle in the hall by the door. -I opened and saw some living creature in a dark -corner. Yes! it was Ivan Ivanovich. He trembled -all over, was blue, and looked at me with his appealing, -timid eyes. It was the look of a frightened -animal near its end.</p> - -<p>“Your weakness again?” I asked kindly.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he answered humbly and briefly, and he -started to straighten his clothing. He was again -wearing an impossible cassock, he had no hat, and -on his bare feet were rough shoes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> - -<p>Avtonomov soon made his appearance. He was -drunk and unpleasantly bold. He spoke in affectedly -grandiloquent phrases, acted like an old -friend, and from time to time in his reminiscences -of our wanderings he made spicy allusions to a -certain soldier’s wife.... In his eyes gleamed an -evil passion and in him I recognized again the -preacher in the monastery courtyard,—and readiness -for any evil deed. He never said a word about -his visit to his sister....</p> - -<p>“Listen ... Dearie, ...” he turned to the -maid.... “The other time I left a cassock with -you.... It’s still fit to be worn.... Your present -was unlucky,” he added, looking impudently -at me.... “We were robbed near Uglich ... -and they took absolutely everything we had. A -merchant cheated you on those felt shoes, that’s -easy to see.... Cheap goods, cheap.... They -fell all to pieces....”</p> - -<p>He condescendingly patted my shoulder.</p> - -<p>Ivan Ivanovich looked at his protector reproachfully. -We parted quite coldly, but everyone in my -house felt sincere sympathy and pity for Ivan Ivanovich.</p> - -<p>After that, from time to time, I heard from my -accidental comrades. These messages were usually -brought by people in cloaks and cassocks and with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -more or less clear indications of “weakness” they -gave me greetings or notes and they showed how -disillusioned they felt, when they saw the meagreness -of the reward which they received. Once during -the fair a fellow appeared totally drunk and -very evil looking, but he handed me a note with as -much mysterious familiarity as if it had been from -a mutual friend and confidant.</p> - -<p>In the note a very shaky and uneven hand had -scribbled:</p> - -<p>“Dear friend. Receive the bearer as you would -me. He is our friend and can tell you everything; -incidentally give him money and clothing.... -His trousers are pretty bad.... Gennady Avtonomov.”</p> - -<p>One glance was enough to show that the agent -was really in dire need of trousers.... But in -spite of his intoxication, his eyes quickly -and curiously ran over the contents of my rooms, and they -showed well the results of professional training....</p> - -<p>When he left, I heard an unpleasant noise and -I had to run to the assistance of my good neighbors.</p> - -<h4>X</h4> - -<p>About two years passed, before I again met my -former companions.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> - -<p>One hot summer’s day, I had crossed the Volga -on a ferry and a pair of horses was dragging us -over the sands of the bank to the foot of a hill. -The sun had set, but it was intolerably hot. It -seemed as if whole waves of heat were being wafted -from the gleaming river. Flies hung in clouds over -the horses, the bells rang unevenly, and the wheels -dragged in the deep sand.... Half way up the -hill a monastery nestled among the trees and -as it looked down on the river out of the rising mist, -it seemed to be suspended in midair.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the coachman stopped his weary team -at the very foot of the hill and ran along the bank. -A quarter of a verst away on the rocky and pebbly -edge of the river was a black group of people directly -between us and the sun.</p> - -<p>“Something’s happened,” said my companion.</p> - -<p>I got out and also walked up to the place.</p> - -<p>A dead body was lying on the bare bank, against -which the water was splashing lazily. When I -came nearer, I recognized in it my old acquaintance: -the little wanderer was lying in his cassock, -on his stomach, with outstretched hands and with -his head turned at an unnatural angle. He was -pale as death; his black hair had fallen over his -forehead and temples, and his mouth was half -open. I involuntarily recalled that face, as it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -when it was filled with childish delight over the -singing of the little bird on the hilltop. With his -long, sharp nose and his open mouth,—he reminded -me greatly of a tortured and stifled bird.</p> - -<p>Avtonomov sat swaying back and forth beside -him and seemed frightened. There was a perceptible -odor of wine in the air....</p> - -<p>Glancing at the people who were coming up and -not recognizing me, he suddenly pulled the dead -body.</p> - -<p>“Get up, comrade, it’s time to be going.... A -wanderer’s fate is to wander always.”</p> - -<p>He spoke in a very bombastic manner, but he -rose uncertainly....</p> - -<p>“Don’t you want to? Look, Vanya, I’ll leave -you! I’ll go off alone....”</p> - -<p>A village chief, with a medal on his chest, hurried -up to the group and laid one hand on Avtonomov’s -shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Stop, don’t go away.... You’ve got to make -a statement.... What sort of people are you?”</p> - -<p>Avtonomov, with ironical humility, took off his -cap and bowed.</p> - -<p>“Please be so kind, your village excellency....”</p> - -<p>Above our heads sounded a peal of the bell. The -monks were being summoned to vespers. The peal -echoed, disturbed the heated air, and rolled above<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -the leafy tops of the oaks and black poplars beside -the monastery and as it died away, it fell to the -sleepy river. The sound increased again, as it -struck the water, and a keen eye could almost follow -its flight to the other bank, to the bluish, mist-wrapped -meadows.</p> - -<p>All removed their hats. Avtonomov turned toward -the sound and shook his fist in the air.</p> - -<p>“Listen, Vanya,” he said, “your father superior -is calling you.... Your benefactor.... Now -he’ll receive you, I know....”</p> - -<p>Peal after peal, rapid and repeated, ringing and -quavering, fell down upon the river solemnly and -quietly....</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="ISNT_IT_TERRIBLE">ISN’T IT TERRIBLE?</h2> - -<p class="center">(<span class="smcap">From the Diary of a Reporter</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> - -<h3>ISN’T IT TERRIBLE?</h3> - -<p class="center">(FROM THE DIARY OF A REPORTER)</p> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p class="dropcap">“Be in N-sk on the twentieth. Session of district -court. Details in letter. Editor.”</p> - -<p>I looked at my watch and then went to inquire -about the trains. I hoped that I could not catch -the night train at the station, which was some ten -versts from the city where I had just finished another -piece of reporting. I saw already the laconic -and business-like answer: “Telegram delayed, -cannot arrive on twentieth.” Unfortunately the -time-table and my watch decided differently. I -had three hours to pack and get to the station. -That was time enough.</p> - -<p>About 11 o’clock on a warm summer evening a -coachman landed me at the station; the lights could -be seen for a great distance. I got there just in -time; the train was waiting.</p> - -<p>Directly opposite the entrance there was a car -with the windows open. It was not filled and some -intelligent-appearing men were playing cards. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -imagined that they were members of the court going -to the session, and I decided to look for a place -elsewhere. This was no easy task but I finally -succeeded. The train was just starting when, with -my bag in my hand, I entered a second-class compartment -in which there were three passengers.</p> - -<p>I sat down by the window, through which entered -the freshness of the summer night, and soon there -were flying past me ends of sleepers, hills, roaring -bridges, buildings, fields bathed in the moonlight,—all -as if carried by a high wind. I was tired -and sad. I thought how my life was flying in the -same way, from bridge to bridge, from station to -station, from city to city, from fire to law court.... -And that I could never write for any paper -what the editor wanted. And all that I would -write the next day would be dry and uninteresting.</p> - -<p>These were not cheerful thoughts. I tore myself -away from them and began to listen to the conversation -of my fellow travelers.</p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p>My nearest neighbor was sleeping contentedly, -letting me stretch out as I could. Opposite me one -passenger was lying down and another was sitting -by the window. They kept on with the conversation -they had already commenced.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Let’s imagine,” said the one who was lying -down, “that I am a man who is not superstitious.... -But yet” (he yawned pleasantly and slowly) -“it cannot be denied that there is much, so to -speak, unknown,—isn’t that so?... Let’s suppose, -the peasants ... country naïvete and superstition. -But take a paper....”</p> - -<p>“Well, a paper. Superstition is for peasants, -but this is for the papers. A peasant, simple fellow, -sees a primitive devil with horns and breathing -fire. He’s frightened.... A reporter sees a -figure from the ballet....”</p> - -<p>The gentleman who admitted that there was -“much unknown” yawned again.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said with a somewhat scientific air, -“that is true; fears disappear with the development -of culture and education....”</p> - -<p>His companion did not reply, but later said -thoughtfully:</p> - -<p>“Disappear?... Do you remember in Tolstoy: -Anna Karenina and Vronsky have the identical -dream: a peasant, an ordinary laborer ‘works in -steel’ and speaks French.... Both wake up in -terror.... What’s so terrible there? Of course, -it’s a little strange for a peasant to speak French. -But, granted.... Nevertheless, in a given combination -of circumstances, a picture which is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -frightful will terrify you.... Take the Brothers -Karamazov of Dostoyevsky.... We’ve got there -an urban devil.... You remember, of course....”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t.... You know, Pavel Semenovich, -I’m an instructor of mathematics....”</p> - -<p>“Oh, excuse me.... I thought.... Yes, I remember: -he was a certain man, or, better yet, a -certain type of Russian gentleman, quite well along -in years, with his hair and pointed beard rather -gray.... His linen and necktie, you know, were -like those of any other stylish gentleman, but his -linen was rather dirty and his necktie frayed. -To sum up, ‘He looked like a man of taste with -slender financial resources....’”</p> - -<p>“That’s a fine devil! A mere sharper, and -they’re common enough,” remarked the mathematician.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know there’s a lot of them.... But -it’s frightful and it’s that, just because it’s so -common; that same poor necktie, linen, and coat.... -If it were only frayed, it would be like yours -or mine....”</p> - -<p>“All right, Pavel Semenovich.... Excuse me, -but you have a strange philosophy.”</p> - -<p>The mathematician seemed rather insulted. -Pavel Semenovich turned towards the light, and I -had a good view of his broad face, straight brows<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -and gray, thoughtful eyes hidden under his stern -forehead.</p> - -<p>Both paused. For a little while you could -hear only the hurried roar of the train. Then -Pavel Semenovich began again in his even -voice.</p> - -<p>“At the station of N-sk I happened, you know, -to walk up toward the engine. I’m a little acquainted -with the engineer.... A chronically -sleepy individual with swollen eyes.”</p> - -<p>“Yes?” asked his companion indifferently, and -not trying to conceal his feelings.</p> - -<p>“Certainly.... A natural condition. He hadn’t -slept for thirty-six hours.”</p> - -<p>“M-n, yes.... That is a long while.”</p> - -<p>“I thought so too: we fall asleep.... The train -is flying at full speed.... And it’s run by a man -who is almost stupefied....”</p> - -<p>His companion fidgeted a little.</p> - -<p>“What an idea!... Really, damnation.... -You should have told the chief of the station....”</p> - -<p>“What for?... He’d laugh! A common thing. -You might almost call it the system. In Petersburg -there’s a gentleman sitting in some office.... -He’s got a board in front of him with numbers -on it. Arrival.... Departure.... And the -engineers are listed too.... Pay—so much.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -Versts—so many. Versts—that’s the length of -the run,—a useful number, profitable, steady, that -can be increased. The pay for the men is minus.... -And this fellow just cracks his head, thinking -how to run the largest number of miles on the -smallest number of engineers. Or even make the -distance larger than ever.... It’s a sort of silent -game with numbers, so to speak.... And a most -ordinary chap bothers with it.... He wears a -poor coat and necktie, and he looks respectable.... -A good friend and a fine husband.... He -loves his child and gives presents to his wife on -holidays.... His job is harmless, and he merely -decides simple questions. The result is that sleep -kills people.... And across the fields and through -the ravines of our beloved country on such moonlight -nights as this trains tear along like this, and -the watch is kept by the sleepy, swollen eyes of -the man who is responsible for hundreds of lives.... -A moment’s slumber....”</p> - -<p>The legs of the mathematician in their checkered -trousers stirred: he got up from his seat in -the shadow and sat down on a bench.... His fat, -expressionless face, with its thick, clipped mustache, -made you uneasy.</p> - -<p>“Stop your croaking, for heaven’s sake,” he -said angrily. “However you argue, the result is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -the same, devil take it.... I wanted to fall -asleep....”</p> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich looked at him in surprise.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” he said. “Are you crazy? -We’ll get there all right, if God wills. I merely -want to point out how the terrible and the usual -are combined.... Economy is the most ordinary -idea of life.... But sometimes it involves death.... -It is even measurable by the law of probability....”</p> - -<p>The mathematician, still more angry, took out -his cigar case and said, as he began to smoke:</p> - -<p>“No, you’re right: the devil knows: the rascal’ll -fall asleep, and all at once.... These beasts of -railroad men.... O, let’s talk of something else. -The devil take these fears.... Are you still vegetating -in Tikhodol?... You’ve stuck there a -long time....”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered Pavel Semenovich, a little embarrassed. -“It’s such a wretched place. It’s just -like living in a yoke.... A teacher, prosecutor, -excise official.... When you once land there, -you’re forgotten, and removed from the lists of -the living....”</p> - -<p>“Yes.... It is an awful place.... It’s deadening.... -Why, there’s not even a club there. -And the mud is unendurable.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> - -<p>“There’s a club now, at least that’s what we -call it.... And there are a few stretches of pavement.... -Lighting, especially in the centre of the -town.... But, I’ll confess, I live on the edge, -and don’t make much use of these conveniences.”</p> - -<p>“Where do you live?”</p> - -<p>“With Budnikov, in the suburbs.”</p> - -<p>“Budnikov? Semen Nikolayevich? Just think, -I lived in that section myself: with Father Polidorov.... -Of course, I met Budnikov! A fine -man, well educated, but rather—filled with ideas?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, with a few notions....”</p> - -<p>“No, not that.... I said ideas. But notions. -What? None special, I think.”</p> - -<p>“No, nothing special, but just the same: he used -to keep valuable papers in a mattress....”</p> - -<p>“Why, I never knew that. But when I met -him he made a queer impression on me. He was -so fresh and original.... A house owner, and all -of a sudden he went to living in two rooms without -servants.... No, I remember, he had a kind of -porter....”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Gavrilo....”</p> - -<p>“That’s right, that’s right. Gavrilo, a little -fellow with white eyebrows? Yes? That’s right.... -I remember I liked to look at his face: such -a good-natured snout. I almost thought the master<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -was part workman.... Who is he? Is he always -that way?”</p> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich said nothing for a few minutes. -He then looked at his companion with some -embarrassment and replied:</p> - -<p>“Y-yes, you’re right.... That actually happened.... -Semen Nikolayevich ... and Gavrilo.... -Both together....”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I remember....”</p> - -<p>“He was a fine man for our city.... Educated, -independent, with ideas.... He went to the university -but never finished because of some escapade.... -He once spoke of it as if he had made an -unfortunate venture into love. ‘My heart was -broken,’ he said. On the other hand I know that -he corresponded with a friend in some outlandish -place. That shows there was something behind it.... -His father, he said, was a usurer, but not a -malicious one. This caused a row between father -and son. The young student didn’t approve of -it and wouldn’t touch the money, but lived by -teaching.... When the father died, Semen -Nikolayevich came and inherited the property. He -said to some one: ‘I don’t want it.... This is -owed to society.’ Then I don’t know what happened.... -The house, land, long-term leases, a -lawsuit.... He carried it on one, two, three years,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -and then got to like it. Many still remember how -he said: ‘I’ll finish the lawsuit with these curs and -settle up.... I won’t stay a day longer in this -confounded hole.’ ... But it’s the usual story.... -We had a teacher once, a zoölogist, who came -to our gymnasium and said bluntly: ‘As soon as -I write my dissertation, I’ll get out of the -swamp!’”</p> - -<p>“That’s Kallistov, isn’t it?” asked the mathematician, -with great interest. The narrator waved -assent.</p> - -<p>“He’s still writing it. He married; had three -children.... That’s just the way with Semen -Nikolayevich Budnikov. He’s been making a dissertation -of his life, so to speak. He began to -enjoy this lawsuit. Challenges, protests, cassation, -the whole game.... And he kept writing himself -without consulting lawyers.... Then, after a while, -he commenced to build a new house. When I got to -know him, he was already a lucky, middle-aged -bachelor, with a reddish face, and such a pleasant, -quiet, substantial and sleepy voice. Then he had -a few peculiarities. He sometimes used to come -to see me, especially when it was time to pay my -rent.... This was due on the twentieth. That -meant that on the twentieth he used to come at -eight o’clock in the evening and drink two cups<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -of tea with rum in it. No more, no less! In each -cup two spoonfuls of rum and one of sugar. I got -to look at this as an addition to my rent. He -did the same with all his lodgers,—only some with -and some without rum. The rents were all different, -about twenty in his four houses (one in the city -was quite large).... That made forty cups of -tea.... He seemed as if he had included that in -his budget and marked it down.... Sometimes, -‘I didn’t find so and so at home, but he brought -the money the next day. Still owing, two cups -of tea.’”</p> - -<p>“Really?” laughed Petr Petrovich. “He never -reasoned that way! Why do you think so?”</p> - -<p>“For this reason. At first this was an unexpected -characteristic, but it got to be believed, -although in your time maybe it didn’t exist. The -tenants began to say: you know M. Budnikov is -an economical man. That was meant well and -even as a sign of approval. But it suddenly -reacted on Budnikov.... You understand? The -unintelligible man began to develop a special intelligible -trait.... It became clearer and clearer. -All believed, for example, that M. Budnikov kept -no servants. Gavrilo was the porter of the house -where I lived; he used to clean the clothes of the -different people, fix the samovars, and run errands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -Sometimes the master and servant used to sit side -by side and clean shoes, the porter for the tenants, -Budnikov for himself. Then M. Budnikov got a -horse. No special need for him to do it. As a -luxury, he’d ride twice a week to a farm near the -city. The rest of the time the horse was free. -Gavrilo wasn’t busy all the time either.... The -result was—the horse was put at Gavrilo’s disposal, -and he used to ride down town. Gavrilo had nothing -against this arrangement, because he considered -incessant work his special duty. You know there’s -a sort of talent for everything, and I thought once -that Gavrilo was a kind of genius in the field of -muscular labor.... Easy motioned,—unwearied -freshness. Sometimes at night he wouldn’t sleep. -Look out of the window and you’d see Gavrilo -sweeping the street or cleaning the ditches. It -meant—he’d gone to bed and then remembered he -hadn’t swept all the pavement the last thing. So -he’d go and clean it. And this was really beautiful.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the mathematician, “that’s a good -description of the man. I remember I liked to -look at him,—he seemed rather attractive.”</p> - -<p>“Spiritual poise is always beautiful, and he did -his duty without speculating about his relation to -his master.... And that was a fine thing, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -know,—their mutual relations. One used his -muscles admirably. The other gave reason and -rational meaning to it.... He saw that the time -was not all filled ... and he found a new occupation.... -There was a sort of balancing of -interests, almost an idyl.... Almost before -dawn Gavrilo was at work. M. Budnikov also got -up early. They said good morning with a manifestly -pleasant feeling. Then M. Budnikov either -went to work in his garden or went around his -‘estate’ scattered through the city. Poverty gets -up early, and he went mornings to poverty’s quarters.... -Then he’d come back and say:</p> - -<p>“‘Now harness up, Gavrilo, and I’ll finish cleaning -up.... The officials are just going to their -offices. You may meet some one....’</p> - -<p>“At this time he considered himself neither a -Tolstoyan nor a deliberate simplifier.... He often -spoke of the abnormality of our lives, of the necessity -of paying our debt to the laboring man, of the -advantages of physical labor. ‘See, I’m working,’ -he’d say to any one who caught him busied with -axe or spade. ‘I’m helping my neighbor, my -porter, with his work.’ It was hard to tell whether -he was talking ironically or seriously.... At -noon Gavrilo’d come back and put his horse in -the stable, and M. Budnikov would go of on business<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -and make polite remarks to his tenants about -a broken fence or a piece of plaster knocked down -by children’s balls.... He often came back with -one or two beggars. They had asked him for alms -on the street and he’d offered ‘assistance through -toil.’ ... Of course, the rogues ran off shamefully, -but M. Budnikov took especial pleasure in -working, either alone or with Gavrilo. All the -beggars in the city soon got to know him and -bowed with a friendly smile, but did not ask for -money. ‘Why can’t you see what’s good for you, -my friends?’ he’d say meaningly. I must say -that a ‘life of toil’ did bring him manifest personal -benefits; his ruddy color was absolutely evident, -even, and healthy. His face was always quiet and -placid, and almost like Gavrilo’s.... It had -nothing malicious or strange in it.”</p> - -<p>“I see, you’re back on your old theme!” said -the mathematician, standing up and striking his -companion’s shoulder. “Of course, nothing terrible.... -I’m going out here.... Eight minutes’ -wait.”</p> - -<p>The train slowed down and stopped.</p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich, thus left without an audience, -looked around in despair. Soon his gray eyes met<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -mine. In his gaze I noticed an obstinate idea like -that of a maniac....</p> - -<p>“You ... understand?” he said frankly, -wholly undisturbed by the fact that he was talking -to a stranger.</p> - -<p>“I think so,” I answered.</p> - -<p>“Good,” he said, with evident satisfaction, and -then he went on, as if he were talking to the same -person.</p> - -<p>“I had, you know, a school friend named -Kalugin, Petr Petrovich. As a young man he was -infected with the tendencies of his age, but he -was a rare type. He said little. He preferred -to listen, and he watched how others failed, and he -tried, as is said, to turn the wheel of history.... -But you could feel his rapture and his devotion -in his silence.... He finally came to the -conclusion: ‘Everything is good and extraordinarily -fine, but there is no lever. Money is the -lever. And you can’t do a thing without a hundred -thousand.’ You know, he succeeded in convincing -several of his friends of this and they formed a -small savings association. Of course, nothing -came of it: one simply got tired; fate placed another -too far from the source of gain. But Petr -Petrovich held on and won. He wasn’t brilliant, -but he was of a good character, and that kind of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -men get along well in business. He first went into -some sort of an institution along the Volga. It -wasn’t a bank nor a loan association. To get -ahead, he didn’t despise even this, and all of a -sudden he put new life into it, as they say. In -three years’ time, he was making about six thousand -a year.... He put the question this way: -‘Five twenties make a hundred! I’ll keep one -thousand a year and put five thousand away for -the cause. In twenty years my lever’ll be ready.’ -More than that, he did it. Of course he had to -have a self-sacrificing character. And system! -First, to avoid all foolish accidents, he left his old -friends ‘for a time,’—those who tried to catch the -wheel of history in their bare hands. ‘I’ve got -my problem.... Ingratitude ... accidental notes -... do me the favor, it’s not necessary.’ ... And -he held out. He mastered his life and counted -every detail. Nothing—except making money! -He got up every day, not like Budnikov at seven -o’clock, but at thirteen minutes to seven. Second -by second! He gave up his personal life.... Up -to that time he had had only one pleasure: he got -intimate with a girl, but on a free basis. They gave -each other their word ‘not to bind each other.’ -What a stupid phrase! A child gave its word to -no one.... It just appeared and demanded its<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -rights.... She was glad.... He was angry. -This unpleasant event might be repeated, he -thought, and, with an eye on his great cause, he -determined to enjoy his freedom. ‘I’ll give the -child a certain sum,’ he said, ‘even though it interferes -with my great cause.’ ... The woman also -had character. She never touched a cent of the -money, but snatched up the child,—and away forever.... -How he felt afterwards, no one knows, -but he worked harder than ever to save money.... -After various successes and failures, after -twenty years, during which he regularly got up at -thirteen minutes to seven, he congratulated himself -on his success. He had a hundred thousand. -He went to his work at the usual time, walked into -the office of his superior and said: ‘I’ll leave in -two months.’ They opened their mouths in amazement. -‘Are you crazy? Why? Can we raise -your salary? Give you a share of the profits?’ No! -He told why, and in two months he went to Moscow -to take up his old life. And he had a hundred -thousand in his pocket.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, ho!” said Petr Petrovich, who just then -came back from the restaurant.... “Still talking -about Budnikov?”</p> - -<p>“No,” answered Pavel Semenovich. “I was -talking about some one else.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Some one else! Go on, I don’t care.... Go -on with the hundred thousand. I hope that’s not -terrible....”</p> - -<p>His voice sounded as if it were mocking. Pavel -Semenovich looked at him in mild surprise and -turned to me.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s like this.... He went to Moscow,—to -his past, you see.... He thought life would -wait, till he got rich.... He’d go to the same -newspaper corner, find the same arguments and -the same people, and they’d be grabbing at the -wheel of history with their hands as ever.... -He’d show his lever.... ‘Permit me! You have -fine ideas.... Here’s my money to carry them -out.’ But there wasn’t a soul to offer it to; there -were other people in the corner, and they talked -differently. The others had perished under the -wheel of history, or had given up.... Life is like -a train.... If you leave the station for a time, -when you come back the train’s gone. Sometimes -you can’t even find the station. You understand -this tragedy, my friend?”</p> - -<p>“But, excuse me,” said Petr Petrovich. “A -hundred thousand! Free! Many a man will be -willing to have this tragedy....”</p> - -<p>“Yes? But this man, I tell you, was sincere.”</p> - -<p>“What of it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Just this.... He wandered around among -his old and new friends and kept looking for the -train.... He disgusted every one.... The -thing for which he had given his own life and -another’s was unintelligible; it’s just like losing -a finger when you don’t know what for. You -understand,—various, respectable affairs like a -‘people’s home’ or a paper or an ‘ideal book store’ -don’t satisfy a seventy-year-old man.... He’s -ready then to give up interest and capital....”</p> - -<p>“But at six per cent you can live modestly.... -You can live!”</p> - -<p>“Of course.... But if you want to do something.... -This was an act of heroism.... He -gave his life as others do theirs.... And not only -his.... Would you do that for a little miserly -interest?... And there was no reason for his -heroism.... To sum up, one fine day they found -him in a lonely room in a hotel with a bullet in -his head.... And he had gotten rid of his money -somehow, quickly and quietly.... I saw him the -day before at a meeting of some society. No one -noticed him especially. They greeted him and -passed on; he was but a respectable man. Of a -strong character and the best of intentions. But -unusually dull!”</p> - -<p>“H-m, yes!” said the mathematician. “There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -are such cranks.” And he lay down to sleep. -His face, with its fat, clipped mustache, again -disappeared in the shadow, and you could see only -his feet and his checkered trousers. “I think,” he -growled from his corner, “that Budnikov is more -interesting. You’re not through with him....”</p> - -<p>“Yes.... I ... excuse me,—it was all due to -chance.... I sat up all night recently.... I -was reading Budnikov’s correspondence with his -‘distant’ friend. Believe me, I could not tear myself -away, and you never would think that it was -written by that same Semen Nikolayevich Budnikov, -who drank tea and rum in my rooms, sent -Gavrilo downtown, and whose soul imperceptibly, -but almost before my eyes, dried up and grew -barren in our little house.... And it remained, -so to speak, without reverence for anything.”</p> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<p>He stopped and looked at me bashfully and -questioningly, as if he felt that he had said something -which was not proper for a railroad conversation. -He was somewhat startled when the -mathematician exhaled a thick cloud of smoke from -his dark corner and said:</p> - -<p>“Pavel Semenovich, I see you really are a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -crank. Isn’t that so?... Wonderful!... A -man has a hundred thousand and shoots himself! -Another lives as he likes, so to speak, healthy and -ruddy.... A quiet soul.... Safe.... Is that -strange?... By heavens, it’s impossible.... -Good night.... It’s time to go to sleep. Nothing, -nothing!... You won’t disturb me by talking.... -I won’t listen....”</p> - -<p>He turned to the wall.</p> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich modestly and questioningly -looked at me with his naïve gray eyes, and began -in a lower tone:</p> - -<p>“There’s a street in Tikhodol called Bolotnaya -(Swamp Street). They built a house on it near -me.... New and of fresh wood.... The first -year it shone so, and then it lost its freshness. -It got covered with that especial dirt and weathering -and rubbish. Then it got the same color as -the old stables and sheds and you couldn’t tell it -from them. Now they say it’s haunted.... The -people suddenly said that Budnikov had robbed a -woman.”</p> - -<p>“That’s absolute nonsense,” called the mathematician. -“I’ll never believe that Budnikov was -a robber. That’s some stupid rumor.”</p> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich smiled sadly and rather distractedly:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That’s what he was. A robber!... A robber -is the word, ... precisely! But it was just a -little personal ... tangle with rather vague outlines.... -You see.... I must tell you that since -your time a mother and daughter moved in.... -The women were simple and very poor and M. -Budnikov was their protector and friend. They -ran in debt for a long time, and he—always so -strict in affairs of this kind—stood it, and even -gave them money. For the doctor or for better -food, when one was sick. Finally the old woman -died and Yelena became an orphan. M. Budnikov -became very sympathetic, gave her a pleasant -little home, and got her work; she sewed,—got -along somehow.... Then she became a sort of -housekeeper for M. Budnikov, and then,—people -began to say that their relations became more -intimate....”</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh!” yawned the mathematician. “They -didn’t need me for that.... Was she pretty?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, rather pretty; fat, with flowing graceful -movements and mild eyes. They said she was -stupid. But, if she was, a woman’s stupidity is -often very peculiar.... A naïve and sleeping -innocence of soul. She felt her situation very -keenly. As is said in Uspensky, she was all shame.... -M. Budnikov tried to teach her and lift her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -up, so to speak, to his level. She seemed incapable -of it. She sat usually with a book, spelled it out -with her fingers, and her face was interested like -a child’s. She seemed to become dull and stupid -when Budnikov was around. He got sick of her -actions and then of Yelena, especially as other -things took up his attention. But there was a -time when he almost loved her. At least there -were indications of it. In a word, the breach was -not easy for him,—his conscience troubled him -and he wanted to silence it. He finally decided -to give her a ticket of the domestic lottery.... -He called her, took out three tickets, put -them on the table, placed his hand on them, and -said:</p> - -<p>“‘Look here, Yelena. One of these tickets may -win you two hundred thousand. Do you understand?’</p> - -<p>“Of course she didn’t understand well. She -couldn’t imagine so large a sum, but he went on:</p> - -<p>“‘Now, I’ll give you one. This paper is worth -365 rubles, but don’t sell it.... Take it and -may you be lucky....’</p> - -<p>“She didn’t take it, but huddled up, as if she -were afraid. ‘All right,’ said M. Budnikov. ‘Give -me your hand and take this paper.’ He took -one of the tickets and guided her hand in making<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -two pencil strokes sharply and heavily. His mind -was clearly made up.... He gave it outright -with all the results, we may say. ‘You see,’ he -said, ‘this is yours, and if you win two hundred -thousand, they’ll be yours too.’ He placed it back -on the table. She reached out her hand and put -in her bosom a paper with the number of the -ticket.”</p> - -<p>“Really?” asked the mathematician.</p> - -<p>“Yes.... It had to happen so.... That -machine was working in Petersburg, throwing out -one number after another.... Children’s hands -pick them up.... And one of these tickets -won.”</p> - -<p>“Two hundred thousand?” asked the mathematician, -with great interest; apparently he had -forgotten about sleeping.</p> - -<p>“Not two hundred, but seventy-five.... During -March, M. Budnikov looked at the list of -drawings and saw that his number had won a -large prize. Zero, again zero ... 318 and 32. -Suddenly he remembered that he had given one -ticket to Yelena.... He also remembered that -there were two lines on the first. He had three -in a row: 317, 318 and 319. That means 317.... -He got out the tickets and looked: there were -two lines on 317. Yelena had won....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The devil,” exclaimed the mathematician, raising -himself a little. “That’s luck!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it was. And she was so stupid. The -lines were on that number, when he thought that -he would give her another.... A mistake, a -mechanical wave of the hand, mere chance.... -And, because of this chance, Yelena, a stupid -woman who understood nothing and did not know -what to do with money, would take from him ... -him, M. Budnikov, take away, so to speak, a large -sum of money. That was foolish, wasn’t it? He -was educated, had an aim in his life, or had had.... -He might again. He would perhaps have -used the money for some good cause. He would -write again to his friend and ask his advice.... -But she ... she? A beast with a round form and -beautiful eyes, which didn’t even show clearly -what was in them: the stupidity of a calf or the -innocence of a youth who had not yet grown to -conscious life.... Do you understand?... It -was so natural.... Any one in Budnikov’s place, -you ... I ... even Petr Petrovich, would have -felt the same way....”</p> - -<p>Petr Petrovich made some sort of an indistinct -sound, which was susceptible of different interpretations.</p> - -<p>“No?” said Pavel Semenovich. “Excuse me....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -I’m speaking about myself.... My thoughts -or rather my inclinations would have been the -same, perhaps in the subconscious realm.... Because -... knowledge and all restraining influences -are a sort of bark, a thin cover under which -purely egoistic, primal and animal desires live -and move.... If they find a weak spot....”</p> - -<p>“Fine, fine,” laughed Petr Petrovich condescendingly, -and I thought that he winked at me -from his dark corner. “Let’s get back to Budnikov.... -What did he do? Pay it ... and -that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“Apparently, yes; because he wanted to settle -the question and was a little afraid, he called -Yelena and congratulated her on winning. Then, -apparently wishing to make use of a favorable -opportunity, he hinted: ‘When we separate, you’ll -be all right.’ Then he got angry....”</p> - -<p>“What for?”</p> - -<p>“I think, because she was such a fool. If she’d -chosen then, she probably wouldn’t have taken -that number. But now it happened because of -her folly. An orderly and wise man lost that -money. That’s what I imagine from Yelena’s -story.... ‘He ran from one corner to another -and found fault with me.’ ...”</p> - -<p>“What of her? Glad, of course?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<p>“N-no.... She was frightened and began to -weep. He got angry and she cried and he became -still more angry.”</p> - -<p>“Really? What a fool!”</p> - -<p>“Y-yes.... I’ve already explained: I don’t -call her wise, but weeping.... No, it wasn’t -foolishness.... When she told it to me afterwards -... she got to this point, looked at me -with her clear, bird-like eyes, and burst into tears. -Even now I can’t forget those eyes.... Foolishness, -perhaps, but there’s foolishness and foolishness. -It wasn’t clear knowledge and calculation -about the situation. But in those blue eyes there -was something very deep,—just as if a true instinct -shone in them.... Those foolish tears, -perhaps, were the only correct thing at that time.... -I dare to say,—the wisest thing in the whole -confused story.... Somewhere, not far off, was -hidden the solution, like a secret door....”</p> - -<p>“Fine, fine.... Go on!”</p> - -<p>“Next, ... M. Budnikov looked a long time -intently at the foolish woman. Then he sat down -beside her, put his arms around her, and, for -the first time after the perceptible cooling of their -relations, he asked her not to go to her rooms, but -to spend the night with him....</p> - -<p>“So things went on for some time. Yelena<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -bloomed.... Her love was ‘foolish’; it was -very direct. At first,—she told me herself,—M. -Budnikov was repugnant to her. Later, after he -had taken her, he dried her up, as she said. Such -direct feminine natures do not separate feelings -and facts, so to speak. Wherever you touch it, -the whole complex reacts together.... He came -back to her; therefore, he loved her.... For two -weeks she was so joyful and beautiful that every -one looked at her,—glad of her limitless joy.... -But in two weeks M. Budnikov again cooled off.... -A cold storm was raging in our yard.... -Yelena’s eyes showed that she had been weeping.... -The neighbors grumbled and pitied. -M. Budnikov was sullen.... Those two lines had -sunk deep into the hearts of both and a third felt -them.... The porter Gavrilo....”</p> - -<p>“H-m! The whole story!” said Petr Petrovich, -again getting up and sitting down beside Pavel -Semenovich. “Was he there? Did he learn she’d -won?”</p> - -<p>“He knew nothing about it. I’ve spoken of him. -A less clever person you could hardly imagine,—absolutely -heavenly directness.... Sometimes he -didn’t seem to be a man, but ... what shall I -say?... a simple collection of muscles, partially -conscious of their existence. He was constructed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -properly, harmoniously, rightly, and always in -motion. And, in addition, two good human eyes -looked at the whole world from the point of view -of physical and moral indifference, so to speak.... -Sometimes these eyes really gleamed with curiosity -and such unconscious excellence that you actually -felt jealous. Sometimes it seemed to me that if it -wasn’t Gavrilo himself, there was something in him -which understood M. Budinov, Yelena, and me.... -He understood and smiled at us, just because -he did understand.... Suddenly the man became -confused.... It began when Budnikov -made up with Yelena and dropped her again.... -To him she was an abandoned ‘master’s lady,’ a -creature which inspired in him no special respect, -and very probably his first advances seemed rather -simple and rustic. She met these advances with -deep hostility and anger. Then Gavrilo ‘began to -think,’ that is, began to eat little, become slack -in his work, grow thin, and generally to -dry up.</p> - -<p>“This lasted during the fall and winter. Budnikov -finally grew cold to Yelena; she felt insulted -and believed that he was ‘laughing’ at her.... -Gavrilo’s character was rather spoiled and the old -harmony between him and Budnikov disappeared.... -And the ticket with the two lines on it lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -in the table drawer and seemed forgotten by -every one....</p> - -<p>“Spring came with everything in this condition.... -For a while I lost sight of the little drama -which was being enacted before my eyes.... My -examinations were coming on; I was very tired -and could not sleep. If you do fall asleep, you -awake with a start and can’t get to sleep again. -You light a candle,—your books are on the table,—you -begin to study.... And it’s sunrise.... You -go out on the steps, look at the sleeping street, the -trees in the garden.... A sleepy coachman is -going along the street; the trees are rustling -faintly, as if they were shivering in the morning -chill.... You envy the coachman, and even the -trees.... You want rest and this concentrated -unconscious life.... Then you go out in the garden.... -Sit down on a bench and just get to -sleep, when the sun shines in your eyes. There -was just such a bench in a quiet corner by the -stable wall. When the sunlight fell on it at seven -o’clock you’d wake up, drink your tea, and go to -your classes.</p> - -<p>“I went out one day at dawn and fell asleep -on this bench. Suddenly I woke up as if some -one had called me. The sun had scarcely risen -very high and the bench was still in the shadow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -What’s the matter, I wondered.... What woke -me up? Suddenly I heard Yelena’s voice in -Gavrilo’s stable. I wanted to get up and leave.... -I don’t like to be an eavesdropper and it was -rather unpleasant to hear the simple solution of -Yelena’s drama. But, while I was getting ready to -leave, the conversation continued and finally I -didn’t go.... I just listened.</p> - -<p>“‘You see I’ve come,’ said Yelena.... ‘What -do you want?’</p> - -<p>“Suddenly, with such a deep and simple grief, -she added:</p> - -<p>“‘You’ve been torturing me....’</p> - -<p>“She said this ... with such a sincere and -heartfelt groan. Before, yes, and after, she always -spoke formally to him, but that time ... a -woman’s heart, sick with shame and love, used -the form of affection,—frankly, unconditionally, -freely....</p> - -<p>“‘You’ve tortured me, too, Yelena Petrovna,’ -answered Gavrilo. ‘I’ve lost my strength. I’ve -dried up. I can’t work and I can’t eat....’</p> - -<p>“‘What are you going to do now?’ asked Yelena.</p> - -<p>“‘What?’ he said. ‘Marry you, of course.’</p> - -<p>“For a few minutes neither spoke. Yelena -seemed to be weeping softly. And yet that silence -was wonderfully clear, simple, frank. ‘You see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -the situation: you’re no match for me; I would -have worked for Budnikov as well as I could, gone -to the village, gotten a place, married and taken -some good girl.... But that’s past; willy nilly -I want you as you are....’</p> - -<p>“‘I’m lost,’ said Yelena softly.</p> - -<p>“‘Why, Yelena Petrovna,’ answered Gavrilo, -with a grim tenderness.... ‘I don’t see that -you’re lost.... It’s just the same.... I can’t -live.... Like a corpse.... I can’t eat.... -I’ve got no strength....’</p> - -<p>“Yelena wept more loudly.... She was having -a good cry. It seemed painful but healing. Gavrilo -said sternly:</p> - -<p>“‘Come, what are you going to do?... Are -you coming?’</p> - -<p>“Yelena apparently exerted herself, stopped -weeping, and answered the repeated question:</p> - -<p>“‘Do you fear God, Gavrilo Stepanich?’</p> - -<p>“‘Why?’ asked Gavrilo.</p> - -<p>“‘You won’t find fault with me?’</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ he said, ‘I won’t find fault with you. -And I won’t let any one else. If you’re serious -in throwing this overboard forever.... Forever.... -I’ll trust you....’</p> - -<p>“Silence. I didn’t hear Yelena’s answer. I -only imagined that she must have turned to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -east, and perhaps there was an ikon in the room.... -She crossed herself.... Then she suddenly -took his head in her arms and I heard them kiss. -That same instant Yelena ran out, rushed almost -to the house, but she suddenly stopped, opened -the gate, and came into the garden.</p> - -<p>“Then she caught sight of me.... But it didn’t -embarrass her. She walked up, stopped, and looked -at me out of her happy eyes, and said:</p> - -<p>“‘Do you always take a walk mornings?... -Friend....’</p> - -<p>“Suddenly, overcome by her emotions, she came -nearer, took hold of my shoulders, shook me unceremoniously, -looked into my eyes, and laughed.... -It was so naïve. She felt that I had been -listening and saw nothing bad in it.... When -Gavrilo came out with his broom and also entered -the garden, she blushed and ran past him. Gavrilo -looked after her with quiet joy, and then his gaze -fell on me. He bowed with his habitual quiet -politeness and commenced to sweep the path. He -again showed that same beautiful and effortless -play of healthy, free muscles.... And I remember -how the monastery bell sounded for early -matins,—it was Sunday. Gavrilo stopped in a -broad bay of the alley, took off his cap, held the -broom in his left hand, and crossed himself with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -his right. The whole seemed to me so extraordinarily -bright and beautiful. The man stood in the -centre of a world of light, where everything was -very good, that is, all his relations to earth and -heaven.... In a word, it was so soothing a sight -that I went to my room and fell fast asleep after -so many sleepless nights. There’s something healing -and calming in honest human happiness. You -know it sometimes occurs to me that we are all -bound to be well and happy, because ... you see -... happiness is the highest possible condition of -spiritual health. And health is contagious like -disease.... We are so to speak open on all sides: -to the sun, wind, and other things. Others enter -us, and we them, without noticing it.... And -that’s why——”</p> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich suddenly stopped as he -felt the fixed and cynical gaze of Petr Petrovich.</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes!... Excuse me,” he said, “this is -really a little unclear....”</p> - -<p>“It is a little. You’d better go on. Without -philosophy....”</p> - -<p>“ ... M. Budnikov woke me up. It happened -to be the twentieth. He came as usual, and as -usual he drank two cups of tea with rum, but I -saw that M. Budnikov was out of humor, and even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -nervous.... And I involuntarily connected it -with the incident of the morning.</p> - -<p>“For some time he kept out of sorts and every -one around noticed that something secret and -hidden had gone wrong between master and -servant. Gavrilo wanted to leave.... Budnikov -would not let him go, although he often told me -that he was disappointed in Gavrilo. As I was -walking one day through the garden, I saw them -both standing by the gate and talking. Budnikov -was excited; Gavrilo, calm. He was standing in -an easy position and kept looking at his spade, -which was stuck in the ground. He was evidently -insisting on something which enraged Budnikov.... -But I thought that the subject of conversation -created between them a strange equality....</p> - -<p>“‘Yes, friend, of course, it’s your business,’ -said M. Budnikov. He caught sight of me but -did not think it necessary to change the subject. -He spoke spitefully and angrily.... ‘Yes.... -You’re a free man.... But just remember, Gavrilo -Stepanich, if you have any utilitarian object, -... I, of course, can give only a very small -sum....’</p> - -<p>“M. Budnikov was unable to speak simply, and -used foreign words, even when talking to Gavrilo....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -Gavrilo looked at him calmly and answered:</p> - -<p>“‘We don’t want anything.... We have -enough....’</p> - -<p>“M. Budnikov glanced cautiously at him and -answered:</p> - -<p>“‘Fine! Remember! Afterwards.... I’ll go -to Petersburg on business.... Do what you -want to.’</p> - -<p>“Gavrilo bowed and said:</p> - -<p>“‘I thank you....’</p> - -<p>“‘Excuse me,’ replied M. Budnikov, with a -shadow of ironical melancholy, ‘I don’t expect -gratitude.’</p> - -<p>“He slammed the gate and left the garden.</p> - -<p>“He stopped and waited for me in the yard, -took my arm, and came up to my rooms. On the -way, and in my apartments, he kept talking confusedly -and incoherently. He did not conceal the -fact that he had had some affection for a certain -woman. This might be still ‘alive under the ashes.’ ... -On the other hand he was dreaming of union -and the possibility of friendship with his humblest -brother. Although both of these feelings had led -to his disillusionment, he could show something, so -that every one would feel it.... But in general, -magnanimity and the finer feelings belong only to -highly cultured people....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He was nervous and under his rather artificial -pathos, I could see his real exasperation and -anger.</p> - -<p>“I later had a chance to see his diary. These -were separate pages, written like letters to his -distant friend.... Apparently he hadn’t sent -any letters for a long time, but these pages were -like lights in the darkness. Under the approximate -day of the conversation with Gavrilo was a -passionate note. He told the whole story of -Yelena, and wrote that he had made a mistake, -and that he now loved her.... And that he would -try once more.... This ended with a sudden burst -of poetry: ‘My distant friend, you, of course, do -not doubt that I will do what I consider the duty -of magnanimity....’</p> - -<p>“Then, sending Gavrilo one day with the horse -somewhere outside the city, M. Budnikov went to -the wing where Yelena still lived.</p> - -<p>“‘Yelena! You should come to me. You must -fix up something....’</p> - -<p>“A few days before this he had been thoughtful -and solemn, but now he dressed in style, went to -the wing, and entered Yelena’s room, without heeding -the inquisitive looks of his tenants.</p> - -<p>“No one knew what happened in that room, but -a half-hour later M. Budnikov came out, stubborn,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -affected, but apparently dazed. Every one began -to say that he had formally proposed to Yelena -and—she had rejected him.</p> - -<p>“After this he left for Petersburg, where he -had a lawsuit before the Senate. He lost it, and -when he returned, Gavrilo and Yelena were already -married.</p> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<p>“This made a great impression upon him, like -some great spiritual conversion. One apparently -insignificant circumstance especially surprised him. -Every spring flowers grew by the wall under -M. Budnikov’s windows. This Yelena did regularly, -and it was put down as an annual source of -expense: seed, a watering pot, to a blacksmith for -mending the spade.... In the early spring Yelena -used to set to work at it, gladly and merrily, and -M. Budnikov took a delighted interest in it. Now -that wing was neglected, the flower bed languished, -M. Budnikov’s windows seemed blind.... But -the other wing, where Gavrilo and his wife lived, -bloomed and flourished. A symbol. When M. -Budnikov came back from the station and took one -look at this unexpected contrast his face changed, -and for a short time he lost his usual aristocratic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -air. I suddenly felt sorry for him. I went out -and invited him into my room. He sat with me -a long time and gave me his impressions of the -capital,—verbose, rambling, insincere. I kept feeling -that M. Budnikov’s soul was thinking of something -very far removed from his impressions of -the capital.</p> - -<p>“Gradually everything drifted back into the old -channels. M. Budnikov still went twice a week -to his farm, still visited his tenants on certain -days, still prepared his dinner on an oil stove. -But there were more trifles in his diary; for example, -he began to note down how many steps he -took each day, and apparently counted thereby the -use and value of various things.</p> - -<p>“In a short time another change took place: -M. Budnikov felt attracted to religion.</p> - -<p>“I remember one fall evening.... It was one -of those evenings when nature touches your soul -especially. The stars seem to be waving and whispering -in the heavens, and the earth is covered -with light and shade.... Our little city, as you -know, is quiet and filled with foliage. You go out -in the evening and sit down on your steps. And -so with the other houses along the street; here’s -one person on a bench by the gate, another on the -dirt bank, another on the grass.... People are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -whispering about themselves, the trees about themselves,—and -there’s a hardly perceptible hum. -Yes, and something’s whispering in your soul. You -unconsciously review your whole life. What was -and what is left, where you came from, what’s -going to happen? Then, everything ... the -meaning of your life in the general economy of -nature, so to speak, ... nature, where all the -stars sink, unnumbered, unlimited, ... they -gleam and shine.... And speak to your soul. -Sometimes it’s sad and deep and quiet.... You -feel you’re going to the wrong place. You begin -to think what’s there above.... You want to run -away from this reproving beauty, this exalted -calm, with your load of confusion, and you want -to melt away in it.... You’ve no place to go.... -You enter your office, look at all your things -in the lamp-light ... text-books, copy-books with -answers written by your pupils.... And you ask: -where’s there anything alive?...”</p> - -<p>Petr Petrovich muttered something and the narrator -stopped again.</p> - -<p>“Well ... that was the way I felt and I was -sitting on my steps and thinking: here’s the people -coming from vespers.... What of it? That’s the -way they find their relations to the infinite.... -Or else it’s nothing but habit, mere automatic motion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -I prefer it to be real. Suddenly I saw one -man leave the crowd and come towards me. It -turned out to be M. Budnikov. He had been to -vespers. He sat down beside me.</p> - -<p>“I felt that M. Budnikov was waiting, you know, -for me to ask him why he went to church. He -never had gone and was always sarcastic about religion, -but now he had suddenly commenced to go. -I was really interested and the evening led me to -be frank.... Why not say, I thought, that there’s -a cloud on my soul....</p> - -<p>“Yes, Semen Nikolayevich, ...” I said ... “I -look at the sky and think....</p> - -<p>“He nodded and commenced:</p> - -<p>“‘That tortured me, too ... and I suffered.... -And like you, I saw no solution. But the solution -is so plain....’</p> - -<p>“He pointed toward the church, a white spot -showing through the trees.</p> - -<p>“‘We, intelligent people,’” he said, “‘are -frightened, so to speak, by the beaten path, banality. -But,—we must drop our pride and fuse ... -or as Tolstoy once said,—partake of the common -cup, search with the humble faith of humanity ... -cease examining the foundations of life.... Like -Antaeus, so to speak, we must touch our common -mother....’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He spoke rather nicely. His voice was so -sleepy and murmured like the bass in the episcopal -choir. I’ll tell you the truth: I felt envious.... -Really you could feel the quiet and blessing.... -As M. Budnikov said, it was worth while to fuse, -and all these searchings of the heart are healed as -by the holy oil. Suddenly I found the lost meaning. -I asked myself: what’s the use of these books? -Why all these notes, all this quiet life?... Why -is this bootmaker solemn and satisfied? Mikhailo -looks for no special meaning, but he floats along -with the general current of life, that is, he agrees -with its general significance and meaning. People -go maybe once a week into this little white building -which looks out so attractive through the trees; -they spend a little time in communion with some -mystery—and see, for a week they are supplied -with the idea of meaning.... And many live a -harder life than I do....</p> - -<p>“There’s M. Budnikov.... Had he really -found <i>this</i> for himself and solved his troubles? -I almost asked, but our priest went by just then. -M. Budnikov bowed and he returned it pleasantly. -And he looked at me with questioning kindness.... -Budnikov has been converted and may bring back -another wanderer. I answered the bow rather -warmly and gratefully, and again felt like asking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -M. Budnikov, but another person of an entirely -different character put in an appearance....”</p> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich thought for a moment and -then asked Petr Petrovich:</p> - -<p>“Did Rogov ever study with you?”</p> - -<p>“Rogov ... I don’t remember ... I’ve had -so many....”</p> - -<p>“He was remarkable and our council often discussed -him.... His fate was peculiar.... You -see, the boy’s father was a rascal of the old school, -a slanderer, drunkard and a quarrelsome fellow, -and as much bothered by modern times as a wolf is -by hunters. He came too late. Rough manners unfitted -for the present times. He spent his last days -in trouble, poverty, and drunkenness. He always -thought that fate did not treat him fairly; people -got along well, but he, as he thought,—a model of -activity,—was dirty, hungry and oppressed.... -And imagine,—this man had a family ... a wife -and son....</p> - -<p>“The wife was irresponsible; her whole being -had been crushed in the full sense of the word, except -one corner of her soul. When anything concerned -her son, a door seemed to open into her completely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -stupefied soul, which was like a citadel uncaptured -in the midst of a fallen city, and so much -wifely heroism came out through this gate that at -times the old ruffian and drunkard put his tail between -his legs. God knows what this cost her, but -she succeeded just the same in giving her son an -education. When I went to teach in Tikhodol, I -found this fellow in the last class. He was a bashful, -apparently modest boy and behaved quietly; -but his eyes had such an expression, strange, restrained; -I confess it made you uneasy: a curious -fire, like the flame of a restless, internal conflagration. -His thin, drawn face was always pale and a -crop of brown hair fell over his rough forehead. -He learned easily, made few friends among his -schoolmates, seemed to hate his father and loved -his mother almost abnormally.</p> - -<p>“Now ... excuse me.... I must say a few -words about myself. Otherwise you won’t understand -a lot of what’s coming.... I’d only been -teaching a very few years and had the usual -idea.... I looked at my calling as noble, so to -speak, from the ideal point of view. My companions -seemed a holy regiment, yes ... the gymnasium -almost a temple.... You know, young -people feel that way and value it highly.... You -run to this light with every trouble and every question....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -It’s the living soul of our business.... -What shall I say, when he comes to you, a fellow -with his young soul under his uniform with all its -buttons sewed on.... I, the teacher, need him -with his questions and errors.... And he needs -me to search and study.... Honestly you want -to guide them....”</p> - -<p>The narrator paused and continued in a low -voice:</p> - -<p>“That’s the way it was with me.... I got intimate -with several boys from my classes, among them -Rogov.... Gave them books, and they visited me. -You understand, over a samovar, simply, heart to -heart. I remember this as the finest time of my -life.... Every time you open a new journal, you -find conversation, discussion, argument. I listened, -without interfering at first, to the way they wandered -and argued, and then I explained,—carefully -but pleasantly. You see, you get one thought and -then another, and again it comes so sharp that it -scratches you.... And you feel how you need to -restrain yourself and think and study. And you -grow with them.... And live....</p> - -<p>“It didn’t last long. One day my director called -me in for a confidential conversation.... Well, -you know the rest.... This ‘extracurricular’ influence -of the leaders of youth does not enjoy protection.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -Journals already!... The director, you -know him,—Nikolay Platonovich Popov,—is a fastidious -man.... He merely hinted and afterwards -acted as if he really knew nothing.... I almost got -angry; at first I even refused to obey, and appealed -to the highest understanding of my obligations. -Then ... I saw that it was no use. The main -point was that I wasn’t the only one getting talked -about: the boys were getting a bad reputation.... -That was hard and difficult enough but what could -I say to my young disputants? How could I explain -it? I obeyed the evidently senseless and -humiliating order! This was the first blow that life -had dealt me and I did not notice at the time that -I had received a mortal wound.</p> - -<p>“I obeyed and stopped my evening discussions. -I can conscientiously say that I thought even more -about them. But youths, you know, don’t obey -so easily and can’t understand the whole meaning. -One evening this Rogov came to me with a companion. -Secretly. Flushed faces, blazing eyes, and -a peculiar look.... I stopped this kind of fellowship. -‘No,’ I said, ‘gentlemen, we’d better stop -it.’ I saw that both boys were getting worked up. -Rogov began to say something, but he had a convulsion -of the throat and his eyes suddenly took -on an evil expression.... I found a way to justify<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -myself: I was afraid for them, especially for Rogov -and his mother.... You see, if our conspiracies -were discovered, his whole career—and his mother’s -heroism—would have gone for nothing. So I -yielded ... for the first time....</p> - -<p>“In place of this I tried to make my lessons as -interesting as possible. My evenings were free.... -It was boring. I’d begun to get accustomed -to my young circle. And now—nothing. I went -for my books. Worked like a dog and kept thinking: -this must be interesting to them; it will be new -and it answers such and such questions.... I read -and dug in my books, collected everything interesting, -attractive, that pushed apart the official walls -and the official lessons.... I kept thinking of -those conversations.... And I thought I was getting -results.... I remember the whole class almost -died from zeal.... Suddenly the director began -to attend the lessons. He’d come in, sit down, and -listen without saying a word.... You know what -happened next. You act as if it were nothing, but -both you and the class feel it’s not a lesson but a -sort of investigation.... Again delicate questions -on the side: ‘Really, excuse me, but where did you -get this? Out of what official text book? How do -you think this agrees with the courses of study?’</p> - -<p>“I’ll be brief.... In a word, the enthusiasm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -finally died out of me.... The class became -merely a class: the living people began to retire -further and further; they disappeared in a sort of -fog.... I lost intellectual contact. Remarks ... -plan ... the enumeration of the stylistic beauties -of a live work. In this there are twelve beauties. -First ... second ... and so on.... It fitted the -program.... That is, you understand, I didn’t -notice how I dried up just like Budnikov.</p> - -<p>“Anyway this young fellow finished his course -and went to the capital.... He didn’t get into -the university right away. It was the time of secret -denunciations.... Perhaps my lectures were suspicious. -To sum up,—he lost a year. He wrote -his mother that he had entered and had a fellowship, -but he really beat his way along, was poor -and probably got disgusted. Then he began to -tramp. Suddenly he had a great sorrow: his -mother died before he could get home. As soon as -her son left home, she began to waste away.... -The guiding star of her life, so to speak, disappeared -from the horizon—and she lost the power -of resistance. Died of consumption, you know, -quickly, almost gladly. ‘Vanya doesn’t need me -any more,’ she’d say. ‘I got him on the right track, -thank God. He’ll get along now.’ She said the -Nunc Dimittis and died. Soon after they found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -the honored father in a ditch. And my Rogov was -an orphan....</p> - -<p>“The old woman was really in too much of a -hurry; her son really needed her more than ever. -He learned well and eagerly, so to speak, without -wasting his time, as if he were hurrying somewhere. -When he heard of his mother’s death, something -broke in his soul.... In turn she seemed to have -been the only ideal in his life. ‘I’ll finish, get on -my feet, revive my shattered truth: even though -she’s ready to die, mother’ll know that there is -divine blessing, love, and gratitude.... For a -year, a month, even a week.... An instant even, -for her heart to be filled and melted with joy.’ -Suddenly, in place of everything, the grave.... A -crash ... and it’s all over! There’s no need of -gratitude, nothing to go back to, to correct.... -You’ve got to have strength to stand such a temptation -without being shattered.... You need faith -in the general meaning of life.... It mustn’t -seem to you but blind chance....</p> - -<p>“He didn’t hold on. He had no support.... -He changed, got rough, and began to drink in with -his wine a poisonous feeling of insult and of the -injustice of fate.... So it went. He threw up -his examinations—what was the use of getting a -diploma? He drifted along like an empty boat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -on a river.... He came back to our city.... -Perhaps he wanted to tie up by his mother’s grave.... -But how could that help him?... If he’d -tried to find some meaning, that would have been -another thing.... And so ... he got in court a -certificate, ‘to travel’ on business, and followed his -father’s footsteps. He lived a dissolute life, spent -his time in saloons, with worthless people, and engaged -in business of the most shady character. One -year of this life,—and he’d become a drunken, -impudent bum, the enfant terrible of our peaceful -city, a menace to the citizens. The devil knows -how, but the bashful boy became insolent and diabolically -clever: every one in the city was afraid -of him.... It’s strange, but there isn’t a city in -Russia without its Rogov. A sort of a state character. -It was quiet everywhere, peaceful slumber, -idyllic calm, M. Budnikov walking along the -streets, obstinate, conceited, counting his steps.... -Evenings, especially on holidays, these poetic murmurs, -and there’s a lot of noise from some saloon -like our ‘On the Crags,’ and some misshapen, sick -and desperate soul carousing.... Satellites -around, of course. This is a natural and necessary -detail to fill up the provincial corners, so to -speak....</p> - -<p>“Rogov met me soon after he turned up.... He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -bowed shyly and went to one side, especially when -he was drunk. One time I met him, spoke to him, -and asked him in.... He came ... sober, serious, -even bashful ... from old habit, of course.... -But we didn’t stick together. Memories -parted us: I was a young teacher with a lively -faith in my calling, with lively feelings and words: -He was a young man, still pure and respecting my -moral authority.... Now he was Vanka Rogov, a -Tikhodol bum, engaged in shady business.... -And I.... In a word, we seemed to be parted by -a solid wall: the main reason of all I won’t mention. -I felt that I had to shatter the barrier, tell him -something that would reach his soul and control -it as I used to.... He seemed to be waiting for -this in terror: waiting for the cruel blow.... -His eyes showed his pain and expectation.... I -didn’t have the strength. It was gone, ... lost -probably when for the first time we parted in -shame....</p> - -<p>“I had to watch like a sympathetic witness, so -to speak, how this young fellow degraded himself, -grew fast, drank, and defiled himself.... He got -insolent, lost all sense of shame. Then I heard -that Rogov was an extortioner and begging. Business -was poor; he was on the border between the -merely offensive and the criminal. He was as clever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -as an acrobat and laughed at everything. In two -or three years he was absolutely transformed. He -had become a menacing, dirty, and very unpleasant -figure.</p> - -<p>“Sometimes he’d come when he was drunk.... -It’s strange: but I seemed to feel more at home -when he was that way.... It simplified matters, -his fault was evident, and it was easier to draw -a moral. I remember after one of his descents into -the loathsome, I said to him:</p> - -<p>“‘This and that’s not right, Rogov.’</p> - -<p>“He shrugged his shoulders, turned away his -eyes, as if he was afraid of a moral beating; then -he shook his hair, looked me straight in the eye, obviously -relying on his impudence:</p> - -<p>“‘What’s wrong, Pavel Semenovich?’</p> - -<p>“‘It’s disgraceful,’ I said.</p> - -<p>“‘You know,’ he said, ‘I’ve changed one quarrelsome -goal for another not less quarrelsome. That -was wrong and now it’s disgraceful. My theory -works out all right for me,’ he said. ‘Honor and -everything like that is nothing but dessert. You -know it comes after dinner. If there’s no dinner, -what’s the use of dessert?...’</p> - -<p>“‘But, remember, Rogov,’ I said, ‘why you have -no dinner.... You studied well, had a good start, -and then suddenly went wrong....’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p> - -<p>“That moment I thought my statement was not -only convincing but incontrovertible.... And he -looked at me, laughed, and said:</p> - -<p>“‘You’ve sometimes played billiards a little, -haven’t you?’</p> - -<p>“‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I play for relaxation....’</p> - -<p>“‘You know the downward stroke?’</p> - -<p>“‘Yes.’ You know that’s a peculiar and paradoxical -shot. The ball first goes forward and then -it suddenly and apparently of its own accord rolls -back.... At first sight it seems incomprehensible -and a violation of the laws of motion, but it’s really -simple.</p> - -<p>“‘Well, what do you think?’ he asked. ‘Has the -ball a will of its own? No.... It’s merely a -contest between two different motions.... One -rules in the beginning, the other later.... Now -you see,’ he said, ‘all her life my mother went -straight but father, as you know, spun around like -a top. That’s why I went straight at first, as long -as my mother’s impulse lasted.... I hadn’t gotten -my bearings, when I swung round to father’s pattern.... -There’s my whole story....’</p> - -<p>“He spoke frankly and hopelessly. He dropped -his head, shook his hair down over his face, and -then, when he looked at me again, I felt uneasy. -His eyes showed his pain. Did you ever see a sick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -animal?... A dog,—usually an affectionate brute, -is willing then to bite its master.</p> - -<p>“‘Now,’ he said, ‘whom do you think’s to -blame?’</p> - -<p>“‘I don’t know, Rogov. I’m not your judge.... -It’s not a question of blame....’</p> - -<p>“‘Not of blame, what then? I think he’s to -blame who started me off with that shot.... That -means to condemn no one. I’m a case of downward -stroke in life.... I do the will of Him that sent -me.... So there you are, my dear Pavel Semenovich.... -Have you got two grivens of silver? I -want to drown my sorrow....’</p> - -<p>“This was the first time that he had asked -me for two grivens and I instantly felt that -the old barrier between us had been broken. -Now he could insult me as he would any one -else.</p> - -<p>“I wanted to defend myself.</p> - -<p>“‘No, Rogov. I won’t give you two grivens. -Come any time you feel like.... I’m glad to see -you.... But this is impossible....’</p> - -<p>“He dropped his shaggy head, sat down, and -said dully:</p> - -<p>“‘Yes, Pavel Semenovich. Excuse me. I’ll -come without begging. Yet to sit down with you, -I feel easier and free from my usual load.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He sat still. A long, strained silence ensued. -Then he said:</p> - -<p>“‘There was a time ... when I hoped to receive -something from you.... You don’t know what -you meant to me. Even now I sometimes feel I -must see you. You’re waiting for something.... -No.... It’s hopeless.... A downward stroke -and it’s all over....’</p> - -<p>“‘Excuse me, Rogov,’ I said. ‘You’re really -misusing that example from billiards. You’re not -an ivory ball but a living man.’</p> - -<p>“‘And for that reason, I feel.... As for a -ball,—wherever you send it,—into a pocket or a -hole, that ivory ball doesn’t care.... But a man, -most esteemed Pavel Semenovich, finds it hard to be -pocketed.... Do you think that any one willingly -and voluntarily refuses dessert?... I wouldn’t.... -I’m a man with reflexes, as they say. I see -and examine my trajectory clear to the end.... -I’ll become a pig of pigs and I can’t reform. At -times I think ... perhaps ... somehow ... somewhere -... there may be some ... point of support.... -Sometimes you get irritated ... -really.... Where is truth ... reality?... Is there -such a thing, Pavel Semenovich?’</p> - -<p>“‘Of course there is,’ I answered.</p> - -<p>“‘How sincerely you spoke. There must be, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -course ... there is.... But where? Excuse me, -I don’t want to catch you.... You don’t know -yourself. You looked once and stopped. That’s -why I’ll only ask you for two grivens. Sometimes -I may be sitting by a fire.... You’re a man with -a soul.... Another time, perhaps, I’ll be able to -get more out of you....’</p> - -<p>“‘Listen here,’ I said to him. ‘Think now, can -I really help you in any way?’ I felt that there -was something to him.... He was rather touched, -was not insolent.... He became thoughtful and -dropped his head.</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ he replied, ‘it can’t be done. You’re -not to blame, friend. Because ... I, and every -one like me, is very greedy. Like swine we wallow -in the mire, and we want any one who helps us -to be whiter than snow.... You need a lot of -strength, friend. You haven’t enough.... A -storm is necessary.... To breathe fire.... -There are miracles.... But you.... You’re not -angry at me?...’</p> - -<p>“‘Angry? Why?’</p> - -<p>“We both stopped talking. I had nothing to -say to him, he began again to walk around, but -he gradually recovered his former manner. He -came and sat down and he showed his brandy. The -next Saturday he came in the same condition and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -sat down beside me on the steps. Just then the -bell rang for vespers. In a short time M. Budnikov -came out of the gate. Dandy, you know how he is, -stubborn as ever, perfectly self-satisfied.... He -breathes forth the consciousness of duty well done.</p> - -<p>“I remember what an unpleasant effect he produced -upon me. Rogov’s face suddenly changed. -He jumped up, adopted a theatrical pose, took off -his cap, and said:</p> - -<p>“‘To M. Budnikov, Semen Nikolayevich, on his -way to vespers is extended the most respectful -greeting of Vanka Rogov.</p> - -<p>“Then with a sweeping wave of his cap, he began -to sing—from a well-known romance:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘<i>I can n-no l-longer pay at all....</i></div> -<div class="verse"><i>Remem-mber me, m-my friend beloved....</i>’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“This buffoonery was too much.... I felt that I -disliked Budnikov, but yet.... He was insulting -a man on a point which from every angle and in -any case should have won his respect. Yelena -soon came out of the gate and also started for -church. He sang to me:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“‘<i>Ophelia! Nymph! Remember me</i></div> -<div class="verse"><i>In those most sacred prayers of thine.</i>’</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> - -<p>“This made me really angry. Yelena quailed -before the impudent stare and insolent, even if -unintelligible words. She dropped her head and -quickly walked to church.</p> - -<p>“‘Listen, Rogov,’ I said. ‘You ought to be -ashamed of yourself! I must tell you ... if you -want to come here, I humbly beg you to act more -decently....’</p> - -<p>“He turned and I saw in his eyes a peculiar -expression—of evil pain. He felt like biting me....</p> - -<p>“I tried to soften the bitterness of my words and -said:</p> - -<p>“‘Rogov, you don’t know these people, nor their -relations, and yet you venture to insult them....’</p> - -<p>“He smiled at me and replied:</p> - -<p>“‘You’re thinking of the idyl? The kindly -M. Budnikov made two hearts happy. Why, here’s -Gavryushenka.’</p> - -<p>“In truth, Gavrilo had just come out of the gate. -Rogov beckoned to him rather hostilely....</p> - -<p>“‘I congratulate you, Gavryushenka, ... on -your master’s leavings.... Wise fellow! You -knew where the crabs winter.... In case of necessity, -you may depend upon my legal knowledge....’</p> - -<p>“Surprising how these cynics find things out. -Evidently Rogov knew the whole story and suspected -Gavrilo of having mercenary motives....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> - -<p>“He walked up and patted him on the shoulder.... -Gavrilo got angry and pushed Rogov away -violently. Rogov almost fell down, laughed, and, -with pretended indifference, started along the path. -He came up to me, stopped and said:</p> - -<p>“‘Most esteemed Pavel Semenovich.... I want -to ask you a question: haven’t you read ... it’s -in Xenophon ... the conversation between Alcibiades -and Pericles?... If you haven’t, I recommend -it most highly. Although it’s in a dead -language, it’s instructive.’</p> - -<p>“He went off singing an indecent song. A little -while after I hunted up this dialogue. I wondered -what he meant....</p> - -<p>“You know it’s a hard but a powerful piece. -The subject’s about like this: Young Alcibiades -went one day to Pericles.... Remember, Pericles -was already a famous man and enjoyed the confidence -of every one ... because of past services -and a certain air of benevolence.... Anyway his -position was secure. Alcibiades was a rascal, -worthless, drunkard, in all sorts of scandals with -Athenian girls, cut off dogs’ tails, as you know ... -A man of no reputation for well-doing. Well, one -day, this rogue of a young fellow went up to -Pericles and said: ‘Listen, Pericles, you’re a man -chock full of benefactions clear to the top of your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -head, you may say. I’m wandering off the road -and twisting up everything, for I have nothing to -do. Every one’s angry at me. I want you to -explain everything to me.’ Pericles, of course, was -willing and thought it was a good idea to talk to -the young man. He might bring him to his senses. -So he said: ‘Go ahead and ask what you want.’ -Then came the question: ‘What is doing well? -How do you learn it?’ Pericles, of course, laughed: -‘Honor the gods, obey the laws, and do your duty. -To obey the laws is the first duty of a citizen and -a man.’ ‘Fine,’ answered the young fellow. ‘Tell -me, please, which laws am I to obey: the bad or -the good ones?’ Pericles was almost insulted. ‘If -a law’s a law, it’s good. What are you talking -about?’ ‘No,’ said Alcibiades, ‘wait and don’t get -angry.’ ... You know at this time in Athens all -these principles were mixed up ... parties, struggle, -some robbing others, ostracism, a sort of banishment -by administrative order ... usurpers ... -favorites ... there really was confusion,—a man -jumped forward and drew up his own laws for his -own advantage or for his relatives and friends. -Then old gods were all mixed up, the oracles answered -anything, provided it didn’t apply to the -subject. In a word, everything that was clear in -life had become unclear: there was no equilibrium,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -no generally acknowledged truth.... A new -system was necessary. Clouds covered the sky -and there were no stars to steer by.... That was -why Alcibiades asked what laws should be obeyed; -those which prescribe good or bad. Of course, -Pericles answered the good. ‘How can I tell which -are good? What is the mark, so to speak?’ ‘Obey -all! That’s what laws are for!...’ ‘That means -laws passed by the power of tyrants?’ ‘No, you -don’t need to obey those....’ ‘I see, only lawful -laws, so to speak. Fine! But suppose the -minority coerces the majority to its own advantage, -don’t I need to obey those laws?’ ‘Of course not.’ -‘But if the majority coerce the minority, is that -contrary to right?...’ You see what the young -fellow was driving at: he didn’t need external -signs, but he showed that he needed to feel in his -soul universal truth, the highest truth, so to speak, -the truth of life, sanctity.... Pericles, you see, -hadn’t understood this.... Not merely Pericles, -the whole country rested on slavery, on past wrong.... -Religion had dried up, the old sanctity which -had consecrated every step, every motion, the whole -order, all human relationships,—people had ceased -to feel it.... But Pericles argued around.... -He didn’t want to confess that their laws had died.... -He patted the dissolute young fellow on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -shoulder with a great deal of condescension and -said: ‘Yes, yes.... I see you’ve got a head on -your shoulders. Years ago we used to settle such -hard questions.’ ... Well, Alcibiades saw that -Pericles was, so to speak, a recognized authority, -was quibbling over trifles, didn’t treat these conflicts -as anything alive,—and waved his hand. ‘I’m -sorry, my dear sir, that I didn’t know you then.... -Now I’m bored; I’m going to fool along.’</p> - -<p>“And that’s what he recommended to me, his -former teacher....”</p> - -<h4>VII</h4> - -<p>The narrator stopped. The train, which was -approaching another station, began to slow down. -Petr Petrovich reached out his hand and said, as -he took his blue cap with a cockade from the -hook:</p> - -<p>“I’m going again to get something to eat.... -I confess, my dear Pavel Semenovich, I don’t see -what you’re driving at.... Excuse me, it’s not -philosophy, and God only knows what you are after. -We began with Budnikov. All right, we know him.... -Now the devil knows who this Rogov is, a -worn-out rogue, and now I don’t know whether -you’re talking of Xenophon or Alcibiades....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -Cutting off dogs’ tails.... The devil knows what -you mean.... Kindly allow me to ask how all -this concerns me.... Just as you wish.... I’d -better go and get some more vodka....”</p> - -<p>He put on his cap, and, holding on to the wall -because of the jolting of the train, he went out -of the compartment. Just at that moment the -fourth passenger on the other upper bench stirred. -He had been lying in the shadow, smoking now and -then, and he seemed to be interested in the story. -He got down, took a seat beside us and said:</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, I haven’t the honor of being acquainted, -but I couldn’t help hearing your story -and it interested me. So, if you have no objections.”</p> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich looked at him. He was a -cultured man, carefully dressed, with intelligent -eyes which looked steadily through a pair of gold -glasses which he was constantly adjusting.</p> - -<p>“Yes?” said Pavel Semenovich. “I see, you -heard this....”</p> - -<p>“Yes. It interested me.... Your point of -view, I confess, I don’t understand fully....”</p> - -<p>“Really, it wasn’t any too clear.... I meant -... that in reality everything is so related.... -And this mutual relationship....”</p> - -<p>“Presupposes mutual responsibility?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich’s face suddenly beamed with -joy.</p> - -<p>“There! You understand it?... Yes, general.... -Not before Ivan or Petr.... Everything is -connected, so to speak.... One man carelessly -throws away a brandy cork and another slips on it -and breaks his leg.”</p> - -<p>The new acquaintance listened attentively. Just -then Petr Petrovich came back. He had been mistaken -as to the place and with an ironical glance -at both, he said, as he hung up his cap:</p> - -<p>“Well, now,—what do you want with a cork?”</p> - -<p>“No, Petr Petrovich,” said Pavel Semenovich -seriously, “you’re wrong.... The question is, so -to speak——”</p> - -<p>“You find questions everywhere in the simplest -things,” said Petr Petrovich. “Don’t bother about -me. You’ve got a large enough audience.”</p> - -<p>“Go on, please,” said the gentleman with the -gold glasses.</p> - -<p>“If you wish.... I’ll be more than glad, for -I’ve got to get it off my mind. I stopped——”</p> - -<p>“You stopped,” said Petr Petrovich laughingly, -“with Alcibiades.... A story, so to speak, from -the Ancient Times. Now for the Middle Ages....”</p> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich paid no attention to this sally -and turned to the new member of the group:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You see how it was. The thing was this way: -Gavrilo was married and living by himself.... In -M. Budnikov’s table still lay the ticket with the -two lines.... There were ugly rumors about it -and, of course, they were exaggerated. Gavrilo was -the only one who didn’t know of them. He kept -on working as before, did all he could, and tried.... -He was a muscular symphony in performance, -with his eyes full of general satisfaction and good -humor....</p> - -<p>“And then Rogov suddenly turned up. He was -walking along the path by the yard; he stopped, -thought a moment, and called Gavrilo.</p> - -<p>“He was a good-hearted Russian.... He had -pushed Rogov away a little while before, but afterwards -he thought no more of it. ‘What do you -want?’ he asked. ‘Come here, it’s something that -concerns you. You’ll thank me for it.’</p> - -<p>“I’ll confess, something warned me. I felt like -calling to Rogov and stopping him, for I was sure -he was up to some mischief. But it was after -the Alcibiades episode ... and I had no hope in -my influence. I stayed at the window. I saw -Gavrilo leave his shovel, go up and listen. At first -his face showed that he did not comprehend and -almost did not care. Then, with the same air of -uncertainty, he took off his apron, went into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -house, put on his cap and rejoined Rogov. Both -walked down the street and turned down the hill -toward the river. A moment later Yelena came -out to the gate, stood and looked after the two men.... -Her eyes looked sad and frightened....</p> - -<p>“From that day on Gavrilo’s character changed -sharply. He came back apparently rather drunk.... -Perhaps from vodka, perhaps from the weight -of an unbearable burden which Rogov had suddenly -put on his shoulders.... In the first place, the -amount was absolutely staggering: a mountain of -money more than he could count. Then the source -of the wealth reminded him of Yelena’s past. -Finally he couldn’t understand why she had never -mentioned it and this may have given rise to evil -suspicions.... You see it was like an explosion in -his mind.... Those two lines which M. Budnikov -had made on the ticket kept sinking deeper and -deeper into Gavrilo’s soul.... The simple-hearted -man was absolutely upset. The whole symphony -of directness and labor was suddenly interrupted.... -Gavrilo wandered around in confusion, as if -he had been poisoned....</p> - -<p>“It began to break him down.... At first he -walked about grimly with his face clouded. His -work began to fall from his hands: he threw down -his axe and broke his spade.... Just like a well-built<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -machine into which some one has hurled a -bolt.... When Budnikov in surprise began to -administer mild rebukes, that shovels cost money -and he would have to take it out of Gavrilo’s wages, -that easy-going man answered with unintelligible -and unreasonable rudeness.... And Yelena wept -more and more....</p> - -<p>“Then Gavrilo began to drink and carouse and -his usual abode became the dirty den, the ‘Crags’ -on the bank, on the sand near the wharf.... This -was a small wooden house with a second floor, dark, -tilting to one side and propped up with beams. -You could see it from the bank; evenings there -were usually two lighted windows and the open -door, cymbals clashed, and there was a lot of -fiddling to amuse the guests.... From time to -time, you could hear confused shouts—both songs -and quarrels and calls for the police. It was an -eternally restless place and rather threatening. -The very antithesis of the drowsy country life.... -Bargemen from our modest and usually idle wharf, -workmen from the brickyards like moles which had -burrowed in the damp clay, professional beggars -... in a word, the homeless, unfortunate, dissipated, -and evil. Even the decent members of the -proletariat shunned this place. And that’s where -Rogov took Gavrilo. And Yelena was the next to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -learn the road to the ‘Crags’ so as to bring her -husband home....</p> - -<p>“She did this surprisingly modestly, quietly, yes, -even beautifully. Once I was coming home from -my lessons and as I entered the gate I saw Yelena -running toward me and fastening a kerchief on -her head.</p> - -<p>“‘Where are you going, Yelena?’</p> - -<p>“A moment’s hesitation.</p> - -<p>“‘You haven’t seen Gavrilo Stepanich go this -way, have you?’ she asked.</p> - -<p>“‘He must have.... But you shouldn’t go -there, Yelena.’</p> - -<p>“I wanted to stop her.... But she swept past -me angrily and with some apparent pride went -to look for Gavrilo Stepanich, her husband, and -she was his lawful wife.... In a half-hour I saw -her bringing Gavrilo Stepanich by the arm. He -was leaning on her but walking and looking straight -ahead with dull, faded and perplexed eyes. But -he was walking. By the gate he suddenly straightened -up, pushed away her hand and stared at her.... -His face was dark, but his faded eye had a -decided look....</p> - -<p>“‘Who are you? Tell me who you are?... -Oh?’</p> - -<p>“She stopped and dropped her hand in despair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -I thought of that spring morning and their mutual -oaths: ‘Remember God, Gavrilo Stepanich!’ I -was terrified: he’ll forget right now, this very -minute, I thought.... Suddenly a spark of -knowledge flickered up in his foolish face and -he swallowed hard. He didn’t say a word but -went to his rooms silently.... She followed him -in terror, respectfully and humbly....</p> - -<p>“So it went on: Rogov would beckon to Gavrilo, -and he’d go off and begin to carouse. This man -got enormous power over Gavrilo, and Yelena objected, -humbly, respectfully, timidly, but constantly. -She probably looked upon all this as a -punishment sent to her as an atonement for her -‘sin.’ She grew thin, her nice plumpness disappeared, -her eyes sank deeper in her head.... But -when I looked at them I never could decide to -call them stupid. Her suffering was always wonderfully -intelligent like that of a bird.... She’d -go to the saloons after her drunken husband, every -one would laugh at her on the street, and make -rough jokes about her.... She felt no shame for -herself.... Only once she whispered: ‘That’s not -right, Gavrilo Stepanich, people are looking at -you....’</p> - -<p>“One time when she was taking him back from -the ‘Crags,’ he broke away from her, ran up to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -Budnikov’s door and began to kick it wildly. -Yelena almost dropped, and, as if she did not have -the strength to go after him, she watched him like -a man with the nightmare, who sees coming at -him something terrible which he has been expecting -but he can’t struggle against it.... The door -suddenly opened and M. Budnikov appeared.... -Calm and haughty with an air of absolute superiority. -To tell you the truth, I was somewhat surprised.... -Anyway, it was a delicate situation. -I didn’t know the details at the time, but I felt -there was something wrong and mistaken.... -Suddenly clearness of vision, quiet, calm. And it -wasn’t put on. No,—that was easy to see.... -It was merely absolute imperturbability.</p> - -<p>“‘What do you want, Gavrilo?’ he said. ‘What -are you kicking for? Don’t you know how to -ring?... You see, here’s the bell....’</p> - -<p>“He pointed to the bell handle. Gavrilo looked -at it and became confused. Yes, there was a knob -and there was really no reason to kick.... M. -Budnikov continued from the top step:</p> - -<p>“‘Anyway, what are you thinking about and -what do you want of me, you r-rascal? Have I -insulted you, dealt unjustly with you, held up your -pay for even one day? Yet you kicked.... All -right, here I am.... What do you want?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Gavrilo didn’t say a word....</p> - -<p>“‘Well, then, I’ll tell you a thing or two myself: -the shovel’s broken again, the walk isn’t swept, the -horse hasn’t been watered.... The horse is a -dumb animal and can’t talk ... but just the same -it’s alive and feels.... Hear it whinney?...’</p> - -<p>“This argument so overwhelmed Gavrilo that -he turned, thoroughly and definitely crushed, and -went straight to the stable. In a minute, just as -if he were sober, he took the horse to the trough.... -M. Budnikov quietly locked his door and came -out. As he came past my wall he guessed that I -had seen the whole affair, stopped, and with a sad -shake of his head, remarked:</p> - -<p>“‘Yes, every one’s talking of the people, the -people.... How do they fall in love with -them?...’”</p> - -<h4>VIII</h4> - -<p>“The scandal began to attract attention. It was -talked about in the city. Various opinions were -held. Some defended Budnikov. Was it worth -while to believe mere rumors? Really no one knew -anything. Some were stupid stories; others, evident -scandals and an unseemly breaking of the general -quiet.... But there was another side. People of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -the lower classes sympathized with Gavrilo. They -thought that the wise and strong M. Budnikov -must have filched from Gavrilo some sort of a -talisman and was now committing sorcery so that -the talisman would lose its power.... So dozens -of eyes were turned to the windows of M. Budnikov -and looked at him as he passed, stubbornly and -calmly, apparently unaware of the cloud of misunderstanding, -suspicion, condemnation, question, -... yes, sin, which trailed after him. Every look -expressed an evil thought and every heart was -heating with an evil feeling.... It was a peculiar -sort of dark cloud.... Hundreds of individual -spiritual movements, confused, unclear, but evil.... -And all aimed at one centre....</p> - -<p>“I must say Budnikov had been rather popular -and enjoyed the respect of all.... Even Rogov, -when he happened to pass our yard and saw M. -Budnikov with a shovel or rake, always stopped -and said:</p> - -<p>“‘M. Budnikov, Semen Nikolayevich, is working.... -He who works shall eat.’</p> - -<p>“Or:</p> - -<p>“‘M. Budnikov is helping his neighbor, the -porter, with the work of his hands. Most laudable!’</p> - -<p>“Then he passed on as by an object to which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -was indifferent or at which he was pleasantly -amused.</p> - -<p>“Now, that was all changed.... It gave me a -physical sensation ... like a nightmare. As if -those two lines ... or something in the character -of M. Budnikov had polluted the atmosphere.... -It was almost an hallucination.... You’re going -to or from the gymnasium ... thinking out your -remarks.... You suddenly feel that M. Budnikov -is following you with his measured tread and his -self-satisfaction that comes from a consciousness -of duty performed.... Or you’re giving a lesson -or reading necessary notices and you absolutely -hear Budnikov’s accents in your own voice ... -when he lays down to a beggar rules for work or -preaches a moral to Gavrilo over the broken shovel -or advises me: ‘Lay aside pride and be -humble.’ ...</p> - -<p>“In this ordinary thing, this humble and apparently -quiet life of peaceful corners, there’s -something terrible, ... specific, so to speak, not -easily noticeable, gray.... Really where are the -rascals, sacrifices, the right, the wrong?... You -so want the fog to be pierced by even one ray of -living, absolute truth, which will not be founded on -pencil lines, but will be actually able to solve the -riddle absolutely and completely ... the real<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -truth, which even Rogov will acknowledge.... -Do you understand?</p> - -<p>“‘I think I do,’ said the gentleman in the glasses -seriously.</p> - -<p>“Apparently M. Budnikov began to feel that -something was wrong. He cleaned up but, as often -happens, he didn’t find the real question.... He -came to me once on the usual day, the twentieth. -You understand I gave him tea as usual.... He -drank it as usual, but his expression was different. -Sad and solemn. He finished his business, carefully -put away the money in his pocketbook, -marked it down, but didn’t leave.... He began to -talk round the bush ... about the abnormality of -his life, ... in particular about his loneliness, -some mistake caused by prejudice and pride.... -Then he got talking of Yelena and Gavrilo. Gavrilo -had turned out to be utterly worthless and Yelena -had made a mistake and was very unhappy.... -He felt responsible for letting her marry, but it was -hard to correct it.... It was harder still to fix -it up with money.... What good is money in -the hands of a drunkard? And so on. All these -subterfuges showed me that M. Budnikov wanted -to solve the whole riddle by recreating the original -situation, so to speak,—that is, to divorce Yelena -from Gavrilo and marry her himself.... That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -meant those two lines would be wiped out and -disappear.... Apparently ... he had already -talked of this with several people, among them -Father Nikolay.... Now he wanted my advice....</p> - -<p>“‘Have you spoken to Yelena about this?’ I -asked.</p> - -<p>“‘No, not yet.... I, perhaps, you may notice, -don’t even go to see her, so as not to make trouble.... -But I know what she needs.... I have no -reason to doubt....’</p> - -<p>“I tried to advance certain points, but M. Budnikov -wouldn’t listen.... He soon said good-by -and left.... As if he feared for the integrity of -his whole plan of action....</p> - -<p>“A little while after, when Gavrilo was away, -some women of the parish began to bob up at -Yelena’s and Budnikov received members of the -consistory. Twice, toward evening, I saw Rogov -leave Budnikov’s.... Then I thought: so that’s -what my young fellow is after; I see now why -he’s ruining Gavrilo; he’s fixing it so M. Budnikov -can arrange the divorce....</p> - -<p>“The whole situation seemed to me so disgraceful -and hopeless that I began to think of moving and -simply getting away from the whole thing.... I -couldn’t sleep.... Again I began to walk around -the garden. Once I found Yelena in it.... She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -was lying on that same bench where I sat that -spring morning.... It was fall now.... Everything -was dying and growing bare.... Autumn, -you know, is a terrible cynic. The wind breaks off -the leaves and laughs. They were lying on the -muddy, damp earth. And a woman was lying on -the damp bench with her face down and crying. -Yes, she was crying bitterly.... Later I found -out why: the arrangement of M. Budnikov was absolutely -impersonal. When she heard this proposition -she merely clasped her hands: ‘Let the earth -swallow me up, let me dry up like a chip.’ ... And -so on.... ‘You’d better bury me alive with Gavrilo -Stepanich.’ ... And Gavrilo Stepanich didn’t -spend the night at home. That former pure happiness -had perished and she didn’t know what to -do. A ticket ... two lines ... friends from the -church, Budnikov, Rogov. She was stupid and -obedient and afraid that something would be done -against her will....</p> - -<p>“I walked up to her ... wanted to comfort -her. When I touched her and felt her body tremble -beneath my touch ... it seemed to me such a -stupid performance that I trembled, as if from -impotent pity....</p> - -<p>“I went away.... I forgot the whole thing and -wanted to drop it and leave. If M. Budnikov<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -passed ... let him pass.... If Rogov was engaged -in dirty business, let him! If stupid Yelena -wanted a drunken husband, let her have one.... -What did I care? What difference did it make who -got the ticket with the two lines, to whom those -stupid lines gave rights?... Everything was incomplete, -accidental, disconnected, senseless and -disgusting....”</p> - -<h4>IX</h4> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich stopped and looked out of the -window as if he had forgotten the story....</p> - -<p>“Well, how did it end?” asked our new companion -cautiously.</p> - -<p>“End?” The narrator woke up. “Of course, -everything on the earth ends some way. This ended -stupidly and simply. One night ... my bell rang. -Sharply, anxiously, nervously.... I jumped up -in fright, put on my slippers ... went out on the -steps ... there was no one there. But it occurred -to me that Rogov was around the corner. I thought -he must have been passing drunk and ugly and -wanted to annoy me by coming at this time.... -He remembered that I was asleep and he, Vanichka -Rogov, my favorite pupil, was drunk on the street -and wanted to inform me of it. I closed the door,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -went back to bed, and fell asleep. The bell rang -again. I didn’t get up. Let him ring.... It -rang again and again.... No, this must be something -else. I put on my overcoat.... Opened the -door. There stood the night watchman. His beard -was covered with frost. ‘Please,’ he said.</p> - -<p>“‘Where do you want me to go, brother?’ I -asked.</p> - -<p>“‘To Semen Nikolayevich, M. Budnikov.... -They’ve had ... trouble....’</p> - -<p>“Without understanding anything, I dressed -mechanically and went. A clear cold night, and -late.... There were lights in the windows of M. -Budnikov, whistles along the street.... What a -stir for night.... I went up the steps and entered. -The first thing that caught my eye was the face -of Semen Nikolayevich, M. Budnikov.... Absolutely -different, not at all like what he was before. -He was lying on his pillow and looking somewhere -into space.... That was so strange.... I stopped -at the door and thought: ‘What’s this? I used -to know him but he’s suddenly changed.... This -isn’t the man who came once a month and drank -two glasses of tea. Who worried over Yelena’s -divorce, but it’s some one with other thoughts. He -lay immovable, important, but he didn’t look at us -or any one, and he seemed so different.... He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -was afraid of no one and judged every one; himself, -that is, the old Semen Nikolayevich, and Gavrilo, -Yelena, Rogov, and ... yes, me too.... I suddenly -understood....</p> - -<p>“Then I saw Gavrilo. By the window, in a -corner, grieved but quiet.... As I suddenly -understood, I walked up to him and said:</p> - -<p>“‘Did you do this?’</p> - -<p>“‘Of course, Pavel Semenovich, I did.’</p> - -<p>“‘Why?’</p> - -<p>“‘I don’t know, Pavel Semenovich....’</p> - -<p>“Then the doctor attracted my attention. He -told me that there was no help.... People kept -walking and driving up, coming in, sitting down, -and writing statements.... It seemed so strange -that the young prosecutor, such a careful and reliable -man, should give orders not to let Gavrilo and -Yelena go and to hold some sort of an investigation.... -I remember his smile when I asked him the -reason for it.... I’ll admit it was a strange question -but I thought that this procedure was unnecessary.... -When they started to take Gavrilo -and Yelena away I involuntarily got up and asked -if they were going to take me.... I later heard -rumors that something was wrong with me. That -was false. My head was never so clear.... The -prosecutor was surprised. ‘If I may give you advice,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -you need to drink some water and go to bed.’ -‘But Yelena?’ I asked; ‘why her?’ ‘We will hope,’ -he answered, ‘that everything will turn out in a -way that’s best for her, but now ... at the first -inquiry ... it is my painful duty.’ ... I still -thought he was acting wrongly....</p> - -<p>“The two were taken away. I went back to my -rooms and sat down on the steps. It was cold.... -A clear, autumn, quiet night with a clear, white -frost.... The stars were sparkling and whispering -in the sky. They had such a special expression -and meaning.... You could hear their mysterious -whisper, though you couldn’t make out -what they said.... It was both a distant tremor -of alarm and also quiet and neighborly sympathy.</p> - -<p>“I really wasn’t surprised when Rogov came up -quietly and timidly sat down beside me on the -steps. He sat a long time without saying a word.... -I don’t remember whether he did say anything, -but I knew the whole story.... He had no -thoughts of murder. He wanted ‘to win Yelena’s -case with M. Budnikov’ for himself. He had to -get hold of the ticket, on which, as he supposed, -was an endorsement.... This clever scheme -pleased him: to get hold by illegal means of the -proof of a legal right. He saw something humorous -in it. The illegal procuring of legal proof in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -form of a hypothetical endorsement.... That’s -why he worked his way into Budnikov’s confidence -through the business of the divorce.... He found -out everything about the place and sent one of -his obedient clients from the ‘Crags’ to take the -proper box. Gavrilo was to open the door of -M. Budnikov’s apartment with a second key, which -Budnikov, through strange oversight, had failed to -take back from him. Instead of waiting at the -door, Gavrilo had gone upstairs. I could have -sworn I had seen him walk along with his heavy -tread, his dark head, and the deep hatred in his -soul.... And how he reached the door and how -M. Budnikov awoke and apparently was not even -frightened but suddenly understood the whole -situation.</p> - -<p>“I still saw that moment in the past, when two -students ran into my rooms on just such a bright -night, and I faced them in my shame and weakness.... -What a fire ... evil and sarcastic ... -was blazing in the eyes of one....</p> - -<p>“It seemed to me that I had discovered that -which was the bond of union among all things: -these lofty, flashing stars, the living murmur of the -wind among the branches, my memories, and this -deed.... When I was young I had often had this -sensation.... When my fresh mind was trying to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -solve all questions and gain a larger truth. Another -time you will seem to be right at the threshold -and everything is about to be cleared up, when it -all vanishes.</p> - -<p>“We sat a long time. Finally Rogov got up.</p> - -<p>“‘Where are you going now?’ I asked.</p> - -<p>“‘I don’t know,’ was the answer, ‘what I must -do.... I think I’ll have to join Gavrilo and -Yelena....’</p> - -<p>“There he stood. I understood so much more -clearly than usual, and I suddenly realized that he -was waiting for me to shake hands. I held out -my hand and he suddenly seized it, and it was a -long time before he let it go....</p> - -<p>“He broke away and left ... straight down the -street. I looked after him, as long as I could make -out the slender figure of my former pupil....”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>For some time the silence in the compartment -was interrupted only by the rattling of the train -and a long whistle. The door slammed, and a -conductor walked along the corridor and called -out:</p> - -<p>“Station of N-sk. Ten minutes’ wait.”</p> - -<p>Pavel Semenovich hurriedly got up, picked up -a small valise, and, with a sad smile at his audience, -he got out of the train. I began to make preparations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -to leave and so did the gentleman in the gold -glasses. Petr Petrovich remained alone. He looked -after Pavel Semenovich and, when the door was -shut behind him, he smiled at the gentleman in the -gold glasses, shook his head, and, running his finger -around his forehead, he said:</p> - -<p>“He always was a crank.... Now I think he’s -not all there. I’ve heard that he threw up his -position and now goes around and gives private -lessons.”</p> - -<p>The gentleman in the gold glasses looked steadily -at him but said nothing.</p> - -<p>We got out of the train.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>From the point of view of a reporter the case -was uninteresting. The jurors acquitted Gavrilo -(Yelena was not tried); Rogov was convicted of -being the instigator, but mercy was recommended. -The judge several times had to stop the witness -Pavel Semenovich Padorin, former teacher, who -constantly wandered away from facts, in order to -express opinions which were irrelevant and had -nothing to do with the case....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="NECESSITY">“NECESSITY”</h2> - -<p class="center">(<span class="smcap">An Eastern Tale</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> - -<h3>“NECESSITY”</h3> - -<p class="center">(AN EASTERN TALE)</p> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p class="dropcap">One day, when the three good sages,—Ulaya, -Darnu, and Purana,—were sitting at the door -of their common home, young Kassapa, the son of -the Rajah Lichava, came up to them and sat down -on the earth which was piled around the house -but he did not speak. The young man’s cheeks were -pale and his eyes, which had lost the glow of youth, -seemed weary.</p> - -<p>The old men looked one at another, and good -Ulaya said:</p> - -<p>“Listen, Kassapa, tell to us, the three sages, -who wish you nothing but good, what is oppressing -your soul. Ever since you lay in the cradle, fate -has showered its gifts upon you and you look as -downcast as the meanest slave of your father, poor -Jebaka, who yesterday felt the heavy hand of your -steward....”</p> - -<p>“Yes, poor Jebaka showed us the welts on his -back,” said stern Darnu and kindly Purana added:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> - -<p>“We wished to call them to your attention, good -Kassapa.”</p> - -<p>The young man did not allow him to finish. He -jumped up from his seat and exclaimed with an -impatience which he had never before displayed:</p> - -<p>“Stop, kindly sages, with your sly reproaches! -You seem to think that I must give you account -for every welt inflicted by the steward on the back -of the slave Jebaka. I greatly doubt whether I -am bound to give account even of my own acts.”</p> - -<p>The sages glanced again one at another and -Ulaya said:</p> - -<p>“Continue, my son, if you so desire.”</p> - -<p>“Desire?” interrupted the young man with a -bitter laugh. “The fact is, I don’t know whether -I desire anything or not. And whether I like what -I wish or what another wishes for me.”</p> - -<p>He stopped. It was almost perfectly quiet but -a breeze stirred the tops of the trees, and a leaf -fell at the feet of Purana. While the sad gaze of -Kassapa was directed upon this, a stone broke off -from the heated cliff and rolled down to the bank of -a brook, where a large lizard was resting at this -moment.... Every day at the same hour it -crawled to this spot. Straightening its front legs -and closing its protruding eyes, it apparently -listened to the discourse of the sages. It was easy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -to imagine that its green body contained the soul -of some wise Brahmin. But this day that stone -released this soul from its green envelope, so that -it might enter upon new transformations....</p> - -<p>A bitter smile spread over Kassapa’s face.</p> - -<p>“Come now, ye kindly sages,” he said, “ask this -leaf, if it wished to fall from the tree, or the stone, -if it wished to break off from the cliff, or the lizard, -if it wished to be crushed by the stone. The hour -came, the leaf fell, the lizard heard the last of -your conversations. For all that we know could not -be otherwise. Or do ye say that it should and could -have been otherwise than it was?”</p> - -<p>“It could not,” answered the sages. “What has -been had to be in the great chain of events.”</p> - -<p>“Ye have spoken. Therefore, the welts on the -back of Jebaka had to be in the great chain of -events, and every one of them has been written -since eternity in the book of necessity. And you -wish me, the same kind of a stone, the same kind -of a lizard, the same kind of a leaf on the great tree -of life, the same kind of an insignificant stream as -this brook which is driven by an unknown power -from source to mouth.... You wish me to struggle -against the current which is carrying me onward....”</p> - -<p>He kicked the bloody stone which fell into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -water and he again sank back on the earth beside -the good sages. The eyes of Kassapa again became -dull and sad.</p> - -<p>Old Darnu said nothing; old Purana shook his -head; but the cheerful Ulaya merely laughed and -said:</p> - -<p>“In the book of necessity, it is also manifestly -written, Kassapa, that I should tell to you what -happened once to the two sages, Darnu and Purana, -whom you see before you.... And in the same -book it is written that you shall listen to the tale.”</p> - -<p>Then he told the following strange story about -his companions and they listened smilingly, but -neither confirmed or denied a word.</p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p>“In the land,” he said, “where blooms the lotus -and the sacred stream flows upon its course,—there -were no Brahmins more wise than Darnu and Purana. -No one had learned the Shastras better and -no one had dipped more deeply into the ancient -wisdom of the Vedas. But when both approached -the end of the mortal span of life and the storms of -approaching winter had touched their hair with -snow, both were still dissatisfied. The years were -passing, the grave was coming nearer and nearer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -and truth seemed to recede further and -further....”</p> - -<p>Both then, well aware that it was impossible to -escape the grave, decided to draw truth nearer to -themselves. Darnu was the first to put on a wanderer’s -robe, to hang a gourd of water on his belt, -to take a staff in his hand and to set out. After -two years of difficult traveling, he came to the foot -of a lofty mountain and on one of its peaks, at an -altitude where the clouds love to pass the night, -he saw the ruins of a temple. In a meadow near -the road shepherds were watching their flocks, and -Darnu asked them what sort of a temple it was, -what people had built it, and to what god they had -offered sacrifices.</p> - -<p>The shepherds merely looked at the mountain -and then at Darnu, their questioner, for they did -not know what answer to make. Finally they said:</p> - -<p>“We inhabitants of the valleys, do not know -how to answer you. There is among our number -an old shepherd Anuruja, who ages ago used to -pasture his flocks on these heights. He may know.”</p> - -<p>They called this old man.</p> - -<p>“I cannot tell you,” he said, “what people built -it, when they did it, and to what god they here -sacrificed. But my father heard from his father -and told me that my great grandfather had said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -that there once lived a tribe of sages on the slopes -of these mountains and that they have all perished, -since they have erected this temple. The name of -the deity was ‘Necessity.’”</p> - -<p>“Necessity?” exclaimed Darnu, greatly interested. -“Don’t you know, good father, what form -this deity had and whether or not it still resides in -this temple?”</p> - -<p>“We are simple people,” answered the old man, -“and it is hard for us to answer your wise questions. -When I was young,—and that was years -and years ago,—I used to pasture my flock on these -mountain sides. At that time there stood in the -temple an idol wrought out of a gleaming black -stone. At rare intervals, when a storm overtook -me in the vicinity,—and storms are very terrible -among these crags,—I used to drive my flock into -the old temple for shelter. Rarely, too, Angapali, -a shepherdess from a neighboring hillside, would -run in, trembling and frightened. I warmed her -in my arms and the old god looked down at us -with a strange smile. But he never did us any -evil, perchance because Angapali always adorned -him with flowers. But they say....”</p> - -<p>The shepherd stopped with a doubtful look at -Darnu and was apparently ashamed to tell him -more.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Say what? My good man, tell me the whole -story,” requested the sage.</p> - -<p>“They say, all the worshippers of the old god -have not perished.... Some are wandering -around the world.... And, sometimes, of course -rarely, they come here and ask like you the road to -the temple and they go there to question the old -god. These he turns to stone. Old men have often -seen in the temple columns or statues in the form of -seated men, richly covered with morning-glories -and other vines. Birds have built their nests on -some. Later on they gradually turn to dust.”</p> - -<p>Darnu pondered deeply over the story. “Am I -now near the goal?” he thought. For it is well -known that “he, who like a blind man sees naught, -like a deaf man, hears naught, like a tree is immovable -and insensible, has attained unto rest and -knowledge.”</p> - -<p>He turned to the shepherd.</p> - -<p>“My friend, where is the road to the temple?”</p> - -<p>The shepherd pointed it out, and when Darnu -commenced to ascend the overgrown path, he -watched the sage a long time and then said to his -young companions:</p> - -<p>“Call me not the oldest of shepherds, but the -youngest of suckling lambs if the old god is not -soon going to have a new sacrifice. Yoke me like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -an ox or burden me like an ass with various loads, -if another stone column is not to take its place in -the old temple!...”</p> - -<p>The shepherds respectfully hearkened to the old -man and scattered over the pasture. And once -more the herds grazed peacefully in the valley, the -ploughman followed his plough, the sun shone, -night fell, and men were occupied with their own -cares and thought no more of wise Darnu. Soon,—in -a few days or so,—another wanderer came to -the foot of the mountain and he, too, asked about -the temple. When he followed the directions of -the shepherd and began to ascend the mountain -cheerfully, the old man shook his head and said:</p> - -<p>“There goes another.”</p> - -<p>This was Purana, following in the steps of wise -Darnu and thinking:</p> - -<p>“It will never be said that Darnu found truth -which Purana could not seek.”</p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<p>Darnu ascended the mountain.</p> - -<p>It was a hard climb. It was very evident that a -human foot rarely passed over the neglected path, -but Darnu cheerfully defied all obstacles and finally -reached the half-ruined gates, above which was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -ancient inscription: “I am Necessity, the mistress -of every movement.” The walls had no other -sculptures or decorations save fragments of some -numbers and mysterious calculations.</p> - -<p>Darnu entered the sanctuary. The old walls -spread abroad the peace of destruction and death. -But this destruction apparently had grown weary -and left undisturbed the ruins of walls which had -witnessed the march of centuries. In one wall there -was a broad recess; several steps led up to an altar, -on which was an idol of a gleaming black stone; -the deity smiled strangely as it gazed upon this -picture of ruin. From beneath it bubbled a brook -which filled the wondrous silence with the murmur -of its water. Several palms stretched their roots -into its course and towered up to the blue sky, -which freely looked down through the ruined -roof....</p> - -<p>Darnu involuntarily submitted to the wondrous -spell of this place and decided to question the mysterious -deity, whose spirit still seemed to fill the -ruined temple. The sage scooped up some water -out of the cold brook and gathered some fruit which -an old fig-tree had shed and then he began his -preparations according to all the rules in the books -on contemplation. First of all he sat down facing -the idol, drew up his legs, and looked at the image<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -a long time, for he wanted to impress it upon his -mind. Then he bared his abdomen and gazed upon -that spot where he was bound to his mother before -his earthly birth. For it is well known that all -knowledge lies between being and not being and -hence must come the revelations of contemplation....</p> - -<p>In such a posture he saw the end of the first day -and the beginning of the second. The heat of noon -several times replaced the cool of evening and the -shadows of night gave place to the light of the -sun,—but Darnu remained in the same position, -rarely plunging his gourd into the water or absent-mindedly -picking up some fruit. The eyes of -the sage grew dull and fixed; his limbs dried up. -At first he felt the inconvenience and pain of immobility. -Later on these sensations passed into -complete unconsciousness, and before the stony -gaze of the sage another world, the world of contemplation, -began to unroll its strange apparitions -and shapes. They no longer bore any relationship -to the experiences of the meditating sage. They -were disinterested, disconnected, and concerned -only themselves, and that meant that they were the -preludes to a revelation of the truth.</p> - -<p>It was hard to say how long this state continued. -The water in the gourd dried up, the palms quietly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -rustled, the ripening fruits broke off and fell at -the sage’s feet, but he let them lie on the ground. -He was almost freed from thirst and hunger. He -was not warmed by the noontide sun nor chilled -by the cool freshness of the night. Finally he -ceased to distinguish the light of day and the darkness -of night.</p> - -<p>Then the inner eye of Darnu saw the long expected -vision. Out of his abdomen grew a green -trunk of bamboo tipped with a knot like an ordinary -stem. From the knot grew another section -and thus, rising ever higher, the trunk grew to -consist of fifty joints, a number corresponding to -the years of the sage. At the top, instead of leaves -and blossoms, grew a something resembling the -idol in the temple. This something looked down on -Darnu with an evil smile.</p> - -<p>“Poor Darnu,” it said finally. “Why did you -come here and take so much trouble? What do you -want, poor Darnu?”</p> - -<p>“I seek the truth,” answered the sage.</p> - -<p>“Then look on me, for I am what you sought. -But I see that I am unpleasant and disagreeable to -your sight.”</p> - -<p>“You are incomprehensible,” answered Darnu.</p> - -<p>“Listen, Darnu. Do you see the fifty joints of -the reed?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> - -<p>“The fifty joints of the reed are my years,” said -the sage.</p> - -<p>“And I sit above them, for I am ‘Necessity,’ the -mistress of every movement. Every act, every -breath, everything existing, everything living is -impotent, powerless, helpless; under the control -of necessity it attains the aim of its existence, which -is death. I am that which has guided the fifty -joints of your life from the cradle to the present -moment. You have never done a single thing in -your whole life: not a single thing of good or -evil.... You have never given a coin to a beggar -in a moment of pity nor dealt a single blow with -hatred in your heart ... you have never cared -for a single rose in your monastery gardens nor -felled a single tree in the forest ... you have -never fed a single animal nor killed a single gnat -which was sucking your blood.... You have -never made a single movement in your whole life -without it being marked down in advance by -me.... Because I am Necessity.... You have -been proud of your actions or lamented bitterly for -your sins. Your heart trembled from love or hate, -but I—I was laughing at you, for I am Necessity -and write down everything in advance. When you -entered a square to teach fools what to do or what -to avoid,—I was laughing and saying to myself:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -just see wise Darnu reveal his wisdom to those -naïve fools and share his sanctity with sinners. -Not because Darnu is wise and holy, but because I, -‘Necessity,’ am like a stream and Darnu is like a -leaf carried away by the current. Poor Darnu, -you thought that you had been led hither by your -search for truth.... But on these walls among -my calculations was marked the day and the hour -when you had to cross this threshold. Because I -am Necessity.... Poor sage!”</p> - -<p>“I loathe you,” said the seer with aversion.</p> - -<p>“I know it. Because you considered yourself -free and I am Necessity, the mistress of every -movement.”</p> - -<p>Then Darnu became angry; he seized the fifty -joints of the reed, broke them off, and flung them -away. “So,” he said, “so will I deal with the fifty -joints of my life, because during these fifty years -I was merely the tool of Necessity. Now I will -free myself, because I have seen and I want to -break my yoke.”</p> - -<p>But Necessity, invisible in the darkness which -surrounded the dull gaze of the sage, laughed and -repeated:</p> - -<p>“No, poor Darnu, you are still mine, because I -am Necessity.”</p> - -<p>Darnu opened his eyes with difficulty and suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -he felt that his feet were swollen and painful. -He started to rise, but at once he sank back -again. Because he now saw clearly the significance -of all the inscriptions and calculations in -the temple. As soon as he began to move his -limbs, he saw that his desire to do so had already -been written on the wall.</p> - -<p>As from another world, the voice of Necessity -came to his ears:</p> - -<p>“Rise now, poor Darnu; your limbs are swollen. -You see 999,998 of your brothers in darkness -do it.... It is <i>necessary</i>.”</p> - -<p>In disgust Darnu remained in his former position, -which now became still more painful. But -he said to himself: “I will be one of those in the -darkness who will not submit to Necessity, because -I am free.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the sun had reached the zenith, and -as it looked through the holes in the roof, it began -to parch the ill-protected body of the sage.... -Darnu stretched out his hand toward his gourd.</p> - -<p>But he at once saw what was written on the wall -under the number 999,998 and Necessity again -said:</p> - -<p>“Poor sage, it is <i>necessary</i> that you drink.”</p> - -<p>Darnu left the gourd untouched and said:</p> - -<p>“I will not drink, because I am free.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> - -<p>There came a laugh from a distant corner of the -temple and at the same time one of the fruits of -the fig-tree grew too heavy to hang any longer and -fell at the feet of the sage. At the same time a -number on the wall changed. Darnu realized at -once that this was a new attempt of Necessity to -destroy his inner liberty.</p> - -<p>“I will not eat,” he said, “because I am free.”</p> - -<p>Again there came a laugh from the depths of -the temple and he heard the murmuring of the -brook:</p> - -<p>“Poor Darnu!”</p> - -<p>The sage became more angry. He remained motionless -without looking at the fruit which from -time to time fell from the boughs, without hearkening -to the seductive murmur of the waters, and -he kept repeating one phrase to himself: “I am -free, free, free!” And that no fruit might thwart -his freedom by falling directly into his mouth, he -closed it tightly and clenched his teeth.</p> - -<p>Thus he sat for a long time, freeing himself from -hunger and thirst and trying to spread abroad to -all the corners of the earth confidence in his inner -liberty. He grew thin, dried up, became wooden, -lost track of time and space. He could no longer -distinguish day and night, but he kept repeating -and asserting to himself that he was free. After<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -a certain space of time, the birds became accustomed -to his immobility, flew up and perched -upon him, and still later a pair of wild doves built -their nest on the head of the free sage and heedlessly -brought forth their young in the folds of -his turban.</p> - -<p>“O foolish birds!” thought wise Darnu, when -first the calling of the parents and the peeping of -the young penetrated his consciousness. “They do -all this because they are not free and obey the laws -of Necessity.” And even when his shoulders were -covered with the droppings of the birds,—he again -said to himself:</p> - -<p>“Fools! They do <i>this</i> too, because they are not -free.”</p> - -<p>He counted himself perfectly free and close to -the gods.</p> - -<p>Below, out of the soil, the thin tendrils of -climbing vines began to rise and to wind themselves -around his immovable limbs....</p> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<p>Only once was the wise Darnu partially recalled -from complete unconsciousness and at that time he -felt in some remote corner of his mind a sensation -of mild astonishment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p> - -<p>This was caused by the appearance of the sage -Purana. Exactly like Darnu he walked up -to the temple, read the inscription above the entrance, -and then going in, began to read the figures -on the walls. The wise Purana was very unlike -his stern companion. He was kindly and had a -round face. A cross-section of his trunk would -have formed a circle, his pleasant eyes sparkled, -and his lips wore a smile. In his wisdom he was -never obstinate like Darnu, and he sought blessed -peace far more zealously than he did freedom.</p> - -<p>Walking around the temple, he came to the recess, -reverenced the deity, and then, with a glance -at the brook and the fig tree, he said:</p> - -<p>“Here is a deity with a pleasant smile, and there -is a stream of fresh water and a fig-tree. What -more does a man need for pleasant contemplation? -Yes, and there’s Darnu. He is so blessed that the -birds are building their nests upon him....”</p> - -<p>The appearance of his wise friend was not especially -joyous, but Purana, gazing at him reverently, -said to himself:</p> - -<p>“There’s no doubt he’s blessed; but he always -loved too stern methods of contemplation. I do -not aspire to the higher stages of blessedness, but -I hope to tell the dwellers upon earth what I see -on the lower planes.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then after enjoying the water and the juicy -fruit, he sat down comfortably not far from Darnu, -and he too prepared for contemplation in the -proper way: that is, by baring his abdomen and -gazing at it as the other sage had done.</p> - -<p>So passed a time, more slowly than with Darnu, -for the kindly Purana often interrupted his contemplation -to enjoy the water and the juicy fruit. -Finally out of the navel of the second wise man -sprang a bamboo trunk and this attained a height -of fifty joints, the number of the years of his life. -On the top again sat “Necessity,” but in his semi-conscious -state she seemed to him to smile pleasantly -and he replied in the same way.</p> - -<p>“Who are you, kind deity?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“I am Necessity, who has governed the fifty -years of your life. All that you have done, you -did not do, but I did them, for you are but a leaf -swept along by the stream and I am the mistress -of every movement.”</p> - -<p>“Blessed art thou,” said Purana. “I see that I -have not come to you in vain. Continue in the -future to execute your tasks for yourself and me -and I will watch for you in pleasant contemplation.”</p> - -<p>He lost himself in sleep with a happy smile on -his lips. So he continued his pleasant contemplation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -from time to time filling his gourd with water -or picking up fruit which had fallen to the ground -at his feet. Each time he stirred with less and -less pleasure, since the drowsiness of contemplation -was more and more strongly mastering him, -and since he had already eaten the fruit which was -nearest to him, he had to exert himself to obtain -them from the tree.</p> - -<p>Finally he said to himself:</p> - -<p>“I’m a foolish man far removed from truth, and -that’s why I have such foolish cares. Isn’t it because -this good deity is so slow with her revelations? -Here before me on the tree is ripe fruit -and my stomach is empty.... But doesn’t the -law of necessity say: ‘where there is an hungry -stomach and fruit, the latter must of necessity enter -the former’?... So, kind necessity, I submit -to your power.... Isn’t that the greatest blessedness?”</p> - -<p>Thereupon he buried himself in complete contemplation -like Darnu, and he waited for necessity -to manifest herself. In order to facilitate her -task, he held his mouth open facing the fig tree....</p> - -<p>He waited one day, two, three.... Gradually -the smile congealed upon his face, his body dried -up, the pleasant rotundity of his form disappeared, -the fat under his skin wasted away and the sinews<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -stood out distinctly through it. When at last the -fruit ripened and fell, striking Purana on the -nose,—the sage did not hear it fall nor did he feel -the blow.... Another pair of doves built a nest -in the folds of his turban, fledglings peeped soon -in the nest, and the shoulders of Purana were covered -thickly with the droppings of the birds. -When the luxurious vines had enveloped Purana, -it was impossible to distinguish him from his companion—the -obstinate sage struggling against Necessity -from the good-natured sage willingly submitting -to it.</p> - -<p>Absolute silence reigned in the temple, and the -gleaming idol looked down on the two sages with -its enigmatic and strange smile.</p> - -<p>Fruit ripened and fell from the trees, the brook -bubbled on, white clouds sailed across the blue sky -and looked down into the interior of the temple -and the sages sat on without manifesting any signs -of life—one in the blessedness of denial, the other -in the blessedness of submission to Necessity.</p> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<p>Eternal night had spread its black wings over -both and no living being would ever have known -the truth which the two sages had perceived at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -summit of the fifty joints of the reed. But before -the last spark which illumined in the darkness the -consciousness of wise Darnu had been finally extinguished,—he -heard again the same voice as before: -Necessity was laughing in the gathering -darkness, and this laughter, taciturn and soundless, -seemed to Darnu a presentiment of -death....</p> - -<p>“Poor Darnu,” said the implacable deity, “pitiable -sage! You thought you could leave me, you -hoped that you could lay aside my yoke and by -turning into an immobile column purchase thereby -the consciousness of spiritual liberty....”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am free,” answered the thought of the -obstinate sage. “I alone in the darkness of your -servants do not obey the commands of Necessity....”</p> - -<p>“Look here, poor Darnu....”</p> - -<p>Suddenly with his inner eye he saw again the -meaning of all the inscriptions and calculations on -the walls of the temple. The numbers quietly -changed, they grew or diminished automatically -and one of them especially attracted his attention. -It was the number 999,998.... And as he looked -at it, two units more fell on the wall and the long -number quietly began to change. Darnu trembled -and Necessity smiled again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You understood, poor sage? In every hundred -thousand of my blind servants there is always one -obstinate man like you, and one lazy man like Purana.... -You have both come here.... Greetings, -ye sages, who have completed my calculations....”</p> - -<p>Two tears rolled down from the dull eyes of the -sage; they quietly rolled down over his dried up -cheeks and fell upon the ground like two ripe -fruits from the tree of his aged wisdom.</p> - -<p>Beyond the walls of the temple everything went -as usual. The sun shone, the winds blew, the people -in the valley busied themselves with their cares, -the clouds gathered in the heavens.... As they -crossed the mountains, they became heavy and -weak. A storm broke in the mountains....</p> - -<p>Again as in times of yore, a foolish shepherd -from a neighboring hillside drove hither his flock -and from another direction a young and foolish -shepherdess drove hither her flock. They met by -the brook and the recess out of which the deity -looked at them with its strange smile, and while the -thunder roared, they embraced and cooed, just as -999,999 pairs had done in the same situation. If -wise Darnu could have seen and heard them, he -would certainly have said in the greatness of his -wisdom:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Fools, they are doing this not for themselves -but for the pleasure of Necessity.”</p> - -<p>The storm passed, the sun again played upon the -grass, which was still covered with the sparkling -drops of rain and lighted up the darkened interior -of the temple.</p> - -<p>“Look,” said the shepherdess, “see those two -new statues. They never were here before.”</p> - -<p>“Hush,” answered the shepherd. “Old men -say that these are worshippers of the ancient deity. -But they can’t do any harm.... Stay with them -and I’ll go and find your stray sheep.”</p> - -<p>He went out and left her alone with the idol -and the two sages. Because she was a little afraid -and because she was filled with youthful love and -delight, she could not remain in one place but kept -walking around the temple and singing loud songs -of love and joy. When the storm was entirely -passed and the edge of the dark cloud had hidden -itself behind the distant summits of the range of -mountains, she pulled some damp flowers and -decked the idol with them. To conceal its unpleasant -smile, she stuck in its mouth a fruit of the -mountain nut with its leaves and stem.</p> - -<p>Then she looked at it and laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>That did not seem enough. She wanted to -adorn the old men with flowers. But since good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -Purana still carried the nest with the young birds, -she turned her attention to stern Darnu, whose -nest had been abandoned. She removed the empty -nest, cleaned of bird droppings the turban, hair -and shoulders of the sage and washed his face with -spring water. She thought that in this way she -was recompensing the gods for their protection of -her happiness. Because even this seemed little and -she was overflowing with joy, she bent over and -suddenly the blessed Darnu, standing on the very -threshold of Nirvana, felt on his dry lips the vigorous -kiss of the foolish girl....</p> - -<p>Soon after the shepherd returned with a lamb -which he had found, and the two went off, singing a -cheerful song.</p> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<p>In the meantime, that spark which had not been -quite extinguished in the consciousness of wise -Darnu, flickered up and commenced to burn -brighter and brighter. First of all, in him as in a -house where everyone is sleeping, thought awoke -and began to wander restlessly in the darkness. -Wise Darnu thought a whole hour and formed only -one phrase:</p> - -<p>“They were subject to Necessity....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> - -<p>Another hour:</p> - -<p>“But in the last instance, I too was subject to -it....”</p> - -<p>A third hour brought a new premise:</p> - -<p>“In picking the fruit, I obeyed the law of Necessity.”</p> - -<p>A fourth:</p> - -<p>“But in refusing, I fulfilled her calculations.”</p> - -<p>A fifth:</p> - -<p>“Those fools live and love, but wise Purana and -I die.”</p> - -<p>A sixth:</p> - -<p>“This perhaps is a work of Necessity, but it has -very little sense.”</p> - -<p>Then awakened thought finally stirred itself and -began to rouse other sleeping faculties:</p> - -<p>“If Purana and I die,” said wise Darnu to himself, -“it will be inevitable but foolish. If I succeed -in saving myself and my companion, it will -be likewise necessary but sensible. Therefore we -will save ourselves. For this I need will and -strength.”</p> - -<p>He rallied the little spark of will which had not -been extinguished. He compelled it to raise his -heavy eyelids.</p> - -<p>The daylight broke in upon his consciousness, as -it floods a room on the opening of the shutters.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -First he noticed the lifeless figure of his friend, -with his set face and the tear that precedes death -already on his cheeks. Darnu’s heart felt such -pity for his ill-fated fellow seeker after truth that -his will became stronger and stronger. It entered -his hands and they began to move; his hands helped -his feet.... This all took much longer to execute -than to decide upon. But the following morning -found Darnu’s gourd full of fresh water at Purana’s -lips, and a piece of juicy fruit fell finally into -the open mouth of the good-natured sage.</p> - -<p>Then Purana’s jaws moved and he thought: “O -benevolent Necessity. I see that you are now beginning -to fulfill your promise.” But when he realized -that it was not the goddess but his companion -Darnu who was stirring around him, he felt himself -rather insulted and said:</p> - -<p>“Eight mountain ranges and seven seas, the sun -and the holy gods, you, I, the universe,—all are -moved by Necessity.... Why did you awaken -me, Darnu? I was on the threshold of blessed -peace.”</p> - -<p>“You were like a corpse, friend Purana.”</p> - -<p>“He who like a blind man sees nought, like a -deaf man hears nought, like a tree is insensible -and immovable, has attained rest.... Give me -some more water to drink, friend Darnu....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Drink, Purana. I still see a tear on your cheek. -Did not the blessedness of peace press it from your -eyes?”</p> - -<p>The wise sages spent the next three weeks in -accustoming their mouths to eating and drinking -and their limbs to moving, and during these three -weeks they slept in the temple and warmed each -other with the heat of their bodies till their strength -returned.</p> - -<p>At the beginning of the fourth week, they stood -at the threshold of the ruined temple. Below at -their feet lay the green slopes of the mountain -descending into the valley.... Far in the distance -were the winding rivers, the white houses of -the villages and cities where people lived their normal -lives, busied with cares, passions, love, anger -and hate, where joy was changed for sorrow, and -sorrow was healed by new joy, and where amid -the roaring torrent of life men raised their eyes -to heaven, seeking a star to guide them.... The -sages stood and looked at the picture of life spread -out at the entrance to the old temple.</p> - -<p>“Where shall we go, friend Darnu?” asked the -blinded Purana. “Are there no directions on the -walls of the temple?”</p> - -<p>“Leave the temple and its deity in peace,” answered -Darnu. “If we go to the right, that will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -be in accordance with Necessity. If we go to the -left, that too is in accordance with her. Don’t -you understand, friend Purana, that this deity -acknowledges as its laws everything that our choice -decides upon. Necessity is not the master but -merely the soulless accountant of our movements. -The accountant marks only what has been. What -must be—will be only by our will....”</p> - -<p>“It means....”</p> - -<p>“It means,—let us permit Necessity to worry -over her calculations, as she will. Let us choose -that path which leads us to the homes of our -brothers.”</p> - -<p>With cheerful steps both sages went down from -the mountain heights into the valley, where human -life flows on amid cares, love, and sorrow, where -laughter echoes and tears flow....</p> - -<p>“And where our steward, O Kassapa, covers the -back of the slave Jebaka with welts,” added wise -Darnu with a smile of reproach.</p> - -<p>This is the story which the cheerful sage Ulaya -told to the young son of the Rajah Lichava, when -he had fallen into the idleness of despair.... -Darnu and Purana smiled, denying nothing and -affirming nothing, and Kassapa heard the story. -Buried in thought he went away toward the home -of his father, the powerful Rajah Lichava.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="ON_THE_VOLGA">ON THE VOLGA</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> - -<h3>ON THE VOLGA</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p class="dropcap">As he went out on the deck of the steamer -which was running upstream, Dmitry Parfentyevich -drew a deep breath.</p> - -<p>The day was ending and the sun was hanging -low above the forest-covered mountain. The river -furnished a majestic and peaceful picture. Somewhere -in the distance a steamboat whistled; a sailboat -heavily laden lay on the river and seemed as -immobile as the sleepy wife of a merchant. The -rafts all carried fires,—the men were cooking their -dinners. Two small barks, fastened together and -heading obliquely across stream, floated by, hardly -touching the glassy surface of the river, and beneath -them, swinging and swaying, hung their reflection -in the blue depths. When the wake of the -steamer, spreading ever wider and wider, touched -this image, it suddenly broke and scattered. It -was a sudden shattering of a mirror and the fragments -floated and sparkled for a long time.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Are you all right, Grunya?” asked Dmitry -Parfentyevich, sitting down beside his daughter.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she answered briefly.</p> - -<p>The girl wore a dark dress. A Scythian kerchief -on her forehead threw a shadow over her pale -young face; her large eyes were dreamy and -thoughtful.</p> - -<p>“The main thing is heavenly blessing and quiet,” -moralized Dmitry Parfentyevich.</p> - -<p>His life was moving toward its close and he -thought that nothing could be better than the quiet -of a dying day....</p> - -<p>Only quiet and prayer after sinful vanity and -weakness.... May God grant no new wishes, -but save from every new temptation.</p> - -<p>“Grunya?” Dmitry Parfentyevich looked at his -daughter and he wished to ask about her own -thoughts.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” answered the girl, but her gaze, dreamily -running far ahead over the golden river and -the mountains with their quiet veil of bluish mist, -seemed to be seeking something else.</p> - -<p>The passengers on the deck were just as quiet. -Some were carrying on private conversations; -others were getting ready for tea at the little -tables.</p> - -<p>In the stern sat a group of Tatars, returning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -home from Astrakhan. There was an old patriarch -with three sons. A fourth, the favorite, had -been buried in a strange city. Akhmetzyan had -been taken ill with an unknown disease, lay a week -and died.</p> - -<p>“All is as Allah wills,” said the stern face of -the old man, but he had still to tell the mother of -the death of her beloved son.</p> - -<p>Everything breathed of silence and peace and -the mountains on the right bank swam up one after -the other and then, receding into the distance, they -seemed to wrap themselves in a blue haze.</p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p>Near Dmitry Parfentyevich were the knots of -passengers, some on benches by the table, others -on the deck and sitting on bundles.</p> - -<p>There were several raftsmen from Unzha, a fat -and good-natured country woman, and an old man, -probably also a small farmer. The centre of the -group at this moment was a steward for the third -class passengers. He was still young and was -dressed in a worn and dirty frock coat, with the -number “2” on the left side. A napkin hung over -his shoulder and with this he attained remarkable -success in rubbing the wet tables and the glasses.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -He had just brought to the deck a tray of dishes -with his arms wide open and with his eyes looking -ahead and at his feet at the same instant. He had -put the tray on the table, wiped off the dust around -it with his napkin, and then joining this group -of his countrymen sat down on the end of the -bench and at once assumed a leading rôle in the -conversation which they had already commenced.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you,” he said in a wholly confident -tone, “if I cross myself with my fist, it works. This -way: in the Name of the Father and of the Son -and of the Holy Ghost, Amen. It really works just -the same. What do you think?”</p> - -<p>He looked at the others with the air of a man -who had just propounded a very clever riddle.</p> - -<p>“The fist, you say?” asked one of the peasants -from Unzha in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Yes, the fist.”</p> - -<p>The listeners shook their heads as a mark of doubt -and reproof. The farmer turned sternly to the -young fellow:</p> - -<p>“N-now, stop that! You claim to be above -God....”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Why, you are a foo-fool to make the sign of -the cross with your fist. Impossible. It never -works.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It does!”</p> - -<p>The young fellow looked round upon his auditors -with a joyously radiant face and was about to give -the answer to the riddle when he heard at one of -the tables the impatient tapping of a spoon on a -glass.</p> - -<p>The fellow jumped up as if he had been shot. In -an instant he was at the other end of the deck, -grabbed the tea-pots, ran to the machinery and -back, set the table, shook himself, ran below again, -put up the orders and passed them around the -tables, and all the while the conversation continued -before an enchanted audience.</p> - -<p>“He’s beside himself!” said the farmer.</p> - -<p>“Due to a stupid mind,” added the old woman -pityingly.</p> - -<p>“The little fellow was a liar, that’s all!”</p> - -<p>“How can you do it with your fist?... That -never works....”</p> - -<p>The general opinion was evidently very definite.</p> - -<p>“Impossible,” said several voices suddenly. -“It’s impudence and nothing else....”</p> - -<p>“What——?”</p> - -<p>“Where did you get that notion?”</p> - -<p>“It’s impudence....”</p> - -<p>“Just you listen,” interrupted the young waiter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -suddenly coming up the hatch, “and you may not -think it impudent.... In the linen factory in -the place where I lived there was a fellow and a -machine caught all his fingers and slash bang! -That’s all! He didn’t have a finger left! And -his right hand too.... Just imagine: being a -man with nothing but his palm left....”</p> - -<p>The audience was charmed.</p> - -<p>“What are you driving at?”</p> - -<p>“You see the question.... What would you do, -brothers?... Could he cross himself with his left -hand?...”</p> - -<p>“What, what?” The farmer waved his hand. -“You can’t use the left hand.... That’s for -Satan....”</p> - -<p>“But he’d lost the fingers on the right, so he -couldn’t join them.... Had only the palm -left!...”</p> - -<p>“That’s so....”</p> - -<p>The riddle became more popular. The passengers -nearby listened; those further off got up and -walked nearer to the speaker. Even the young -merchant who was talking very authoritatively -about politics at the tea table with a fat gentleman, -deigned to turn his benevolent attention to the all-ingrossing -riddle. He tapped with his spoon and -beckoned to the waiter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Waiter, how much?... O-oh! What did you -say: with the fist?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, your excellency, among ourselves.... It -doesn’t interest you....”</p> - -<p>“No, but it’s really clever, isn’t it?” remarked -the merchant to his fat friend.</p> - -<p>The latter’s answer was unintelligible, for the -man was struggling with a slice of bread and -butter.</p> - -<p>But the Tatars sat in the stern without taking -any part in the general conversation. They were -silent, but once in a while they made brief remarks -to one another in their own language.</p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<p>Dmitry Parfentyevich started like a war horse -at the sound of a trumpet. Grunya did not take -her eyes from the distant mountains and the river, -but it was easy to see that she was not looking at -them. Without turning her head she was listening -intently to the conversation of her neighbors.</p> - -<p>Dmitry Parfentyevich looked at her askance. -Hitherto she would have turned to him immediately -with a trusting question: “Papa, how’s -that?” Now she seemed to pay no attention to her -father’s opinion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> - -<p>He waited for her to ask but her large eyes fell -with evident sympathy upon that knot of dark, -ignorant people, who were shocked by such a meaningless -change in their faith....</p> - -<p>He rose and walked up to the disputants. His -thickset, dry figure, savagely pure, in an old-fashioned -costume, won for him the immediate attention -of all.</p> - -<p>“What’s the trouble?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“It’s this way, you see, merchant.... This -little fellow says you can cross yourself with your -fist.”</p> - -<p>“I heard him but don’t repeat it! That man’s -a fool!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” whispered one timidly, “we’re all -dark people....”</p> - -<p>“That’s true, ... you are. If you follow the -teachings of your true masters, you’ll find nothing -surprising here.”</p> - -<p>The audience grew rapidly larger. All were now -interested in the tall old man with quiet and -majestically austere manners. Dmitry Parfentyevich -was not embarrassed by the attention he was -receiving. It was not the first time. There was -only one person in that crowd that interested him -and that was his scholar, his disobedient and devout -Grunya. In his own way he loved his daughter and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -his rough heart was torn by her unwearied doubts -and her sad look. He passionately wished her to -feel that peace from heaven which his own heart -had so fully obtained. But her disobedience always -aroused in his stern soul a storm of suppressed -rage and this struggled with his love and usually -conquered it.</p> - -<p>Grunya still kept her seat. She did not stir but -she listened intently.</p> - -<p>“Now listen,” came to her ears the confident and -harsh voice of her father. “This is the true cross -and it is to this cross that we hold in order to be -saved.”</p> - -<p>He raised his hand with two fingers raised, so -that all could see.</p> - -<p>“A dissenter,” was the murmur in the crowd. -Two or three merchants who were apparently fond -of religious discussions, pressed nearer, when they -heard this unexpected confession.</p> - -<p>“We are not dissenters,” continued Dmitry -Parfentyevich. “We confess the true faith. This -was the form of the cross which the holy fathers -and the patriarchs believed in. This was taught by -St. Theodoret.”</p> - -<p>He raised his hand with the two fingers joined -still higher.</p> - -<p>“Press the thumb against the little finger and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -the ring finger. That is to signify the Holy Trinity. -Three Persons united. Raise two fingers: that’s for -deity and humanity—two natures. Theodoret -teaches again that the middle finger is to be bent a -little. That symbolizes humanity reverencing -deity. See!”</p> - -<p>“Wait!” interrupted one of the merchants who -had forced his way to the front. “St. Cyril says -something else.”</p> - -<p>“St. Cyril says the same thing. Only he bids -you keep both fingers straight.”</p> - -<p>“That must make a difference.”</p> - -<p>“Wait, my good man, that’s wrong.... Don’t -interrupt....” The speakers stopped. “Let him -finish.... What about the fist, merchant?”</p> - -<p>“Yes ... that’s the main thing.”</p> - -<p>“It’s like this: if he lost his fingers he wasn’t -to blame. That means: God allowed it. It was His -will! But a man can’t live without making the -sign of the cross. Without the sign of the cross -he’s worse than this heathen Tatar. He’s bound to -cross himself ... with his right hand....”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“And his fingers,” concluded Dmitry Parfentyevich -after a pause: “His fingers he must place in -thought, as he is ordered by the holy fathers and -patriarchs....”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> - -<p>The crowd heaved a sigh of relief and joy.</p> - -<p>“Merchant, we thank you!”</p> - -<p>“He decided....”</p> - -<p>“That’s it: he just chewed it up and explained -it.”</p> - -<p>“With thought! That’s true!”</p> - -<p>“Of course!... With thought, nothing else!”</p> - -<p>“That will work all right....”</p> - -<p>Dmitry Parfentyevich looked at his daughter.... -What did he care for this applause, these -praises from strange, ignorant people! She, his -daughter, kept looking straight ahead with a look -of indifference upon her face, as if her father had -said something which she had long known and -which had lost all power to touch her confused and -weary soul....</p> - -<p>The old man frowned and his voice became menacing.</p> - -<p>“If he joins his imaginary thumb with the two -imaginary fingers beside it—he is wrong.... A -man who crosses himself that way will be condemned -to eternal damnation.... Cursed be he in -this life and he will have no lot in the next.”</p> - -<p>These violent and harsh words, suddenly falling -upon the crowd which had just quieted down, -changed its mood.</p> - -<p>It became excited, began to murmur, separate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -into smaller groups. A black-eyed, black-haired -merchant, who had maintained hitherto an obstinate -silence, now struck his fist on the table and -said with a flash of his deepset and enthusiastic -eyes:</p> - -<p>“True! The Devil Kuka and his whole crew are -in that cursed cross with the thumb and the fingers -next to it.”</p> - -<p>“No, stop!” shouted the Orthodox, “don’t -insult the true cross! Why do you separate the -Three Persons, c-curses on you?... This is the -Trinity in these three fingers....”</p> - -<p>“Where are your first fingers?”</p> - -<p>“Merchant, have you read the hundred and fifth -article?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s on the end of the world.”</p> - -<p>Dmitry Parfentyevich remained the centre of the -group. He was still composed and calm, but each -time when he answered any of his opponents, he -transfixed him with a stubborn and unfriendly -glance.</p> - -<p>With splashing wheels, the steamboat steadily -ascended the river and cleft the blue surface of -the stream; it carried with it this group of violently -quarreling people and the clay slopes of the steep -bank reëchoed their confused voices.</p> - -<p>A steep mountain, which had concealed a bend<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -in the river, now receded to the rear and a broad -sweep of the river appeared in front. The sun -hung like a red ball above the water and from the -east, darkness spread over the meadows as if on the -soft wingbeats of the evening shadows, overtaking -the boat and falling more and more noticeably over -the Volga.</p> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<p>The silent group of Tatars suddenly rose from -their places in the stern and with even step moved -to the paddle box at the edge of the upper deck. -They took off their coats and spread them on the -deck. Then they took off their slippers and reverently -stepped upon their coats. The glow of the -sunset fell upon the rough faces of the Tatars. -Their thickset figures were sharply outlined against -the light and cooling heavens.</p> - -<p>“They’re praying,” one man whispered and several -left the quarreling group and walked to the -railing.</p> - -<p>Others followed. The argument quieted down.</p> - -<p>The Tatars stood with their eyes closed, their -brows were raised and their thoughts were apparently -lifted up to that place where the last rays of -daylight were fading on the heights. At times they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -unlocked their arms which were crossed on their -breasts and placed them on their knees, and then -they bowed their heads with their sheepskin caps, -low, so low. They arose again and stretched their -hands with the fingers extended toward the light.</p> - -<p>The lips of the Moslems were whispering the -words of an unknown and unintelligible prayer....</p> - -<p>“Look there,” said one peasant, and he stopped -hesitatingly, without expressing his thought.</p> - -<p>“They are fulfilling the rites of their religion,” -asserted another.</p> - -<p>“Yes, they’re praying too....”</p> - -<p>The Tatars suddenly knelt, touched their foreheads -to the deck, and at once rose again. The -three young men took their coats and slippers and -went back to their former seats on the stern. The -old man was left alone. He sat with his feet -crossed under him. His lips moved and over his -beautiful face with its gray beard passed a strange -and touching expression of deep sorrow softened -by reverence before the will of the Most High. -His hands quickly fingered his beads.</p> - -<p>“See.... He has beads too.”</p> - -<p>“A zealous man....”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s for his son.... He died in Astrakhan,” -explained the merchant who had gone down -the river with the Tatars.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” sighed one of them philosophically. -“Every man wishes to be saved. No one -wishes to perish, whoever he is, even if he’s a -Tatar....”</p> - -<p>It was too dark to tell who was speaking. The -group melted together but the isolated figure of the -old man still at his devotions could be seen at the -edge of the paddle box above the water. He was -silently swaying backwards and forwards.</p> - -<p>“Papa!” suddenly came a soft voice.</p> - -<p>It was Grunya calling her father.</p> - -<p>“What is it, daughter?”</p> - -<p>The girl was silent for a moment; she kept looking -at that praying figure of the adherent of an -alien faith, and then her young and eager voice -clearly sounded through the quiet:</p> - -<p>“Please, ... what do you think: will God hear -that prayer?”</p> - -<p>Grunya spoke softly, but all heard her. It -seemed as if a light breeze had passed along the -deck and in more than one soul the question of -the pale girl found response: will God hear that -prayer?</p> - -<p>All were silent.... Their eyes involuntarily -turned upward, as if they wished to follow in the -blue of the evening sky the invisible flight of that -strange and unintelligible but beautiful prayer....</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Why won’t He?...” came the irresolutely -soft words of a good-natured peasant. “You see, -he’s not praying to any one else. There’s only one -God.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the Father. You see, he’s looking to -heaven.”</p> - -<p>“Who knows, who knows?...”</p> - -<p>“It’s a hard question—the ways of the -Lord....”</p> - -<p>A block creaked at the bow, the light of a golden -star flew to the top of the mast; the waves splashed -somewhere in the darkness; the distant whistle of -an almost invisible steamboat reëchoed above the -sleeping river. In the sky the bright stars appeared -one after the other, and the blue night hung noiselessly -above the meadows, the mountains and the -ravines of the Volga.</p> - -<p>The earth seemed to be sadly asking some question -but the heavens remained silent with its quiet -and its mystery....</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> - -<h2 id="THE_VILLAGE_OF_GOD">THE VILLAGE OF GOD</h2> - -<p class="center">(<span class="smcap">A Sketch From a Traveler’s Notebook</span>)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE VILLAGE OF GOD</h3> - -<p class="center">(A SKETCH FROM A TRAVELER’S NOTEBOOK)</p> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<p class="dropcap">Early one summer morning I put my knapsack -on my shoulders and set out from -Arzamas.</p> - -<p>Southeast of the city stretched the slopes of a -green mountain. A little white church welcomingly -and mildly peered out through the trees which grew -in large numbers among the graves and beside the -cemetery on the pitted sides of the mountain were -some strange white spots....</p> - -<p>As I drew near I saw that these were small -and almost toy houses of old brick with peaked -roofs covered with mosses and lichens. Three were -shorter than a man,—one, in the form of a chapel, -was taller. The roofs supported eight-pointed -crosses, and on the walls were the dark boards of -ikons. The faces had been worn away by the winds -and beaten by the rains.</p> - -<p>I was told in Arzamas that these were all that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -was left of a unique village. In earlier times the -entire mountainside had been covered with similar -structures, as if a city of dwarfs had been laid out -opposite to the real city with its gigantic churches -and its monastery. The people called this place -the “Village of God.”</p> - -<p>Every year, on the Thursday of the Seventh -Week after Easter the local clergy come to this -mountain and wave their censers in the air amid -these peculiar houses; the incense perfumes the -place and the choir sings:</p> - -<p>“Remember, Lord, Thy slaughtered servants and -those who died an unknown death, whose names, -O Lord, Thou knowest....”</p> - -<p>For whom they pray, for whom they sing the -requiem, whose sinful souls are remembered in this -prayer,—neither the people of Arzamas who stand -around and pray nor the clergy of Arzamas can -tell definitely.... For them the service in the -disappearing “village” is merely a pious and revered -custom, a relic of the hoary past....</p> - -<p>And this past was sad and bloodstained....</p> - -<p>Arzamas was once on the frontier. The city -guarded the border. The breeze which raised the -dust on the distant steppes here roused great -anxiety and alarm. Some looked toward the -steppes with terror, others with uneasy hopes....<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -And every spark borne hither on the winds from -the Don or the Volga, found here a goodly supply -of inflammable material in oppression, violence, -injustice, slavery, and grievous national suffering.</p> - -<p>This was the soil where was planted the Village -of God.</p> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<p>It began, according to tradition, in the days of -Stepan Timofeyevich Razin.... The workmen of -Stenka robbed even in Arzamas. They fled from -here to the north of Nizhny Novgorod, nested for -a while in the village of Bolshoye Murashkino, and -then passed on to Lyskovo and Makary. At their -heels came the generals of the tsar and the bloody -vengeance of the followers of Razin was followed -by the not less bloody vengeance of the tsar.</p> - -<p>During Peter’s reign in 1708, Kondrashka -Bulavin sent from the free Don his “pleasant -letters.” “Young atamans, lovers of travel, free -people of every class, thieves and robbers! He -who wishes to go with the military campaigning -ataman Kondraty Afanasyevich Bulavin, he who -wishes to raid with him, to travel gloriously, drink -and eat as he will, ride over the open fields on fine -horses, let him come to the black mountains of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -Samara.” ... So wrote the rebellious ataman to -the Cossacks of the Don, to the Ukraine, and the -Zaporozhian Syech. Along the Volga, through -cities north and south, to worthy commanders, flew -the message and also to the villages and towns. In -long and business-like letters, carefully composed -with a view to their political effect, he set forth all -the oppressions of nobles and magnates, all the -wrongs and injustice under which the land had long -been suffering. The appeals of Kondrashka inflamed -the whole land, more blood was shed, and -savage was the vengeance of the people.... Again -from Moscow advanced the regiments of troops in -accordance with the terrible order of Tsar Peter:</p> - -<p>“ ... Go through the cities and villages which -have joined the robbers, burn them to the last -straw, slay the people and torture the leaders on -wheel and stake.... For this plague cannot be -removed, except by sternness....”</p> - -<p>In those days there was no lack of sternness -and after the pacification even the cruel tsar wrote -to Dolgoruky, not to execute the brother of the -slain Bulavin, for many had joined the revolt from -misapprehension or “from compulsion.”</p> - -<p>The rebels were carried to Arzamas. Scaffolds, -stakes, and wheels were erected along the roads -and the city during one of these periods of vengeance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -was, in the words of an eye-witness quoted -by Solovyev, “like hell”; for more than a week -the groans of the victims of the terrible tortures -filled the air and birds of prey hung over the places -of execution.</p> - -<p>After this pacification arose on the mountainside -houses of the “Village of God,” and the people -began to sing the requiems on the hillside....</p> - -<p>Ere long the bone of the followers of Razin and -of Bulavin were joined by the bones of the banished -Stryeltsi (Guards).... Defiantly and in -disobedience to the tsar’s order, they left Vekikiya -Luki, whither they had been sent, and they stoutly -resisted the tsar’s General, Shein, with a large -force, but they were defeated in a desperate hand-to-hand -encounter, as they were trying to cut their -way through to Moscow to the Stryeltsi villages -where their wives and children were living. The -victorious general filled the prisons and dungeons -of Arzamas with the men who had disobeyed the -tsar’s orders. The ring-leaders were punished. -The tsar returning from abroad was dissatisfied -with the weakness and the mildness shown by Shein -to the rebels. A judge was sent from Moscow to -make a new investigation.... There were not -enough executioners in the city to administer the -new tortures and punishments and more had to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -summoned from Moscow for the occasion....</p> - -<p>New houses were added to the “Village of -God.” ...</p> - -<p>Drenched with blood, the naïve and rebellious -dream of the people for a free life died away until -new outbreaks commenced, a dream closely connected -with the old cross and the beard, with Cossack -bands, and with confused memories of the -freedom of the steppes. The old injustice weighed -more and more heavily upon them and hardened -and increased their century-old suffering. The -memory of the people involuntarily returned to -those who promised freedom and who sealed this -promise with their own and others’ blood.... -Time and time again, like stones washed down to -the shore by the raging torrent, new groups of -“houses of God” appeared on the slopes of the -mountain of Arzamas.</p> - -<p>At first, perhaps, each grave preserved the memory -of a definite man, his name, and his saint on an -ikon. Some one would bring these ikons and -sprinkle the tombs of shame with passionate tears -of love and sympathy. These mourners died.... -The wind, the rains, and the sun faded the faces -on the ikons, and along with these there perished -the living personal memory of the people buried -here. There remained hanging above the mountain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -only a vague tradition and a vague popular -feeling, ... a feeling of sad inability to comprehend, -which dared not pronounce its own judgment -and presented this to heaven.... And down -the centuries, from year to year, even to our own -times, sounds the solemn prayer for all those who -had been put to death, be they innocent or guilty, -and for all those who died an unknown death....</p> - -<p>... Whose names, O Lord, Thou knowest....</p> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<p>I heard the following tale in Arzamas.</p> - -<p>It was after the suppression of the rebellion of -Razin. The tsar’s generals had erected near -Arzamas a whole forest of columns with cross-beams -and towards evening the city saw in horror, -as they looked from one hill to another, hanging -upon them the bodies of atamans and of the men -of Arzamas who had joined the revolt. The bloody -sun set behind the mountain, fearful darkness covered -the heavens, and crows swarmed in clouds -around their booty. The people kept asking one -another: “Who is hanging there on the mountain? -Criminals and murderers or the defenders of popular -freedom, the avengers of century-old injustices?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> - -<p>That same night a young merchant of Arzamas -was driving his tired horse along the road from -Saratov and he was urging it on with all his might. -He abandoned far from the city his cart and the -wares which he was bringing from the Volga, and -was hurrying ahead without resting at all; he had -learned from fugitives whom he had met that there -was something wrong in the city and that the men -of Razin were rioting in it. And he had left in -the city his father and mother and his young wife -with her first-born babe.</p> - -<p>At midnight the young man galloped on his -foaming horse out of the forest on to a hill in sight -of his natal city. There was no gleam of fire to be -seen above the city, no alarm bells to be heard. The -city seemed dead; but in two or three of the -churches were there timid lights,—perchance by -the dead bodies of “honorable citizens,” who were -waiting Christian burial....</p> - -<p>Suddenly ... his horse started.... It was at -that very place where now stand the “houses of -God.” ... The merchant saw a dread and leafless -forest standing on the mountain side, and, like -ripe fruit, the bodies of good young men hanging -on the trees, with crows flapping their wings and -picking out the eyes of the dead.</p> - -<p>The young merchant’s heart had been surging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -with uncertainty and sorrow during his hurried -journey by day and night, uninterrupted save by -the need of changing his tired horses, and his soul -was weighted down as by a rock with his hatred for -the rebels of Razin. He stopped his horse under -one scaffold, rose in his stirrups and with all his -strength he lashed one of the dead bodies and -cursed it.... The body swayed.... The chain -creaked and a cloud of crows rose in the air, flapping -and cawing.</p> - -<p>A dreadful result followed: the tortured dead -descended from every scaffold, from every wheel, -and from every hook and rushed at the merchant.... -The maddened horse tore through the fields, -leaped the ravines, and reached the city utterly exhausted. -And throughout the whole flight, like -autumn leaves driven by a gale, dashed after him -the shades of the executed, with their dead eyes -aflame, and their fettered hands grasped after him -with curses and moans, and their dead voices wailed, -lamented, cursed....</p> - -<p>Then the merchant realized that it was not for -him to judge those who were now standing before -a far different tribunal, pleading there their own -and others’ sins, their own and others’ wrongs, -their own and others’ blood. In that dreadful -hour he took a solemn oath to bury all those who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -had been executed and yearly to have a requiem -for them.</p> - -<p>Since then, it is said that the houses of God -have stood in Arzamas. Since then the clergy sing -the requiem over the nameless graves and the ikons -which have been brought hither do not perish -unnoticed....</p> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<p>It was a clear, calm morning when I went out -to the remains of the Village of God. A tired -woman who was driving a lost cow crossed herself, -when she saw the cross of the chapel. A gang of -workmen, “panniers” of Arzamas, were going to -their work. A very old peasant, gray as an owl -and with faded but still living eyes, was sitting on -the threshold of the chapel and binding the flaps of -his rough boots. The sun had just risen above -the distant forests.</p> - -<p>“Greetings, grandsir,” I said to the old man.</p> - -<p>“Good morning, son.... Where’re you going?”</p> - -<p>“To Sarov.”</p> - -<p>“You’re on the wrong road. There’s the proper -way.... To the bridge and then the village -there.”</p> - -<p>“I know, grandsir. I left the road on purpose, -so as to see the houses of God.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Look, son, look.... And pray here too.... -It’s a holy place, you know....”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you know who’s buried here?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, son, yes! People of every class.... Violence!... -A Saltykov, a landowner from the -Vyyezdnaya Sloboda, who oppressed the people,—God -forbid.”</p> - -<p>The old man sadly shook his gray beard.</p> - -<p>“You know, old people say,—a merchant was -going from Makary to Arzamas,—and offered -thanksgiving for arriving safely. Glory to God—he -was at home! At dawn he went out of the city -peacefully and met the lord and his retainers on -the bridge. There was no justice.... They -hurled him from the bridge into the Tesha and in -a day or two his body floated to the city.... It -was picked up and buried here, on the mountain. -And here it lies till the Day of Judgment....”</p> - -<p>I was already familiar with the name of this -Saltykov: the old records in the archives of Nizhny -Novgorod preserve the dark memories of the acts -of this noble family, and one is well known from -the revolt of Pugachev: his retainers collected the -taxes by robbery. When the glad tidings spread -among the people that Petr Fedorovich had made -himself known and was marching to recover his -throne, the serfs of Saltykov thought that there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -would be an end to their master’s outrages and -their necessarily sinful lives. The mir assembled, -seized and bound their lord, put him in a cart -and took him to the “tsar’s camp” for trial. -“But,” said one landowner who described the incident, -“the Lord heard the prayers of the innocent -victim and the rascals instead of going to the camp -of the pretender, carried him to the troops of -Mikhelson.”</p> - -<p>It goes without saying that the kindly nobleman -was quickly released and the wicked peasants -received just punishment. Their bones perhaps -joined those of the followers of Bulavin, the Stryeltsi -and the victims of this same Saltykov. They -all lie there together awaiting “the judgment of -God” over all earthly actions....</p> - -<p>“Yes, there’s the Sloboda,” said the old man, -rising to his feet and pointing to the village with -its columns of smoke and with the morning fog -across the river Tesha. “And there, higher up, -were the gardens of Saltykov....”</p> - -<p>“Do you think these houses of God were built -since, grandsir?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“N-no, friend! Since! N-no.... Much earlier.... -Perhaps since Pugachev.”</p> - -<p>“Who was Pugachev?”</p> - -<p>“Who knows, we are dark people. We heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -from our fathers and grandfathers nothing but -Pugachev and Pugachev.... You know the old -story. My father died forty years ago and he was -ninety years old when he died.... And he was -still a boy when Pugachev appeared. Count now, -how long ago it was.”</p> - -<p>“A hundred and twenty years, grandsir.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, a hundred and twenty,—and more!... -Pugachev was a stern man. Oh, so stern. You -know, he didn’t love the landowners. He’d go into -a village. ‘Give me your lords!’ If the peasants -hid them,—God forbid! Cruel.... My father, -God bless him, once told me there were two villages -side by side. The people of one guessed right. -They took the ikon and went to meet him, ringing -the bells. He pardoned them, rewarded them, gave -them a charter of his favor.... Ours didn’t; -the fools didn’t meet him and he burned the whole -village.”</p> - -<p>The old man suddenly looked at me, saw my -watchchain and the notebook in which I began to -jot down the main points of his story,—and he -suddenly took off his cap and said:</p> - -<p>“Forgive me, for Christ’s sake!”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, grandsir?”</p> - -<p>“That wasn’t so, perhaps.... We’re dark -people; how should we know?... Perhaps he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -never said it.... But it is true that he was stern.... -He loved order....”</p> - -<p>The old man seemed to be afraid that the gentleman -would condemn him for familiar stories -about the high qualities of Pugachev, who “loved -order” and issued “charters of his favor”....</p> - -<p>I succeeded in calming his anxiety, and we continued -to talk. The old man proved communicative. -His memory kept much curious lore and -his simple answers revealed that same vague -atmosphere which filled the place: a feeling of -pardoning and timid lack of comprehension, of -vague questioning and of prayer for those who -lie here, under the earth, and perchance had been -executed as punishment for crime or perchance had -laid down their lives for a cause punishable here -on earth but counted holy and righteous <i>there</i>.</p> - -<p>The group of workmen stopped along with me -to hear the almost forgotten traditions connected -with this spot.</p> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<p>We went together into the little chapel. Its -walls were covered with regiments of ikons, and -at the eastern end was a crucifix also surrounded -by ikons. Gloomy faces, dark boards, bereft of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -heads.... Oh, so many were lacking heads.... -As if the vague feeling of the simple offerers had -sought thus to express their feeling that the punishments -were undeserved....</p> - -<p>I was especially surprised by one ikon, of a crucifix -painted on the cubical base. It was not old or -had perhaps been renewed and it might well have -been a piece of individual workmanship inspired -by the sadness of this place. On a semi-circular hill -with no attempt at perspective could be seen a -severed hand with compressed fingers. Beside it -were huge nails. Hammer and saw were hanging -in the air. Fragments of chains.... A column -with a bundle of rods and whips fastened to it were -painted against a background of whirling clouds. -But a faint light pierced the clouds and penetrated -the mists like a faint gleam of hope. And as if to -emphasize this idea more clearly, the artist had depicted -a cock greeting the sunrise.... On the -top of the column the bird was standing with vibrating -wings and open beak, welcoming the morning....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Silently we left the chapel. Although the interior -was not dark,—yet it seemed to me that in -passing out through this low door we were passing -from deep gloom into the light of a clear sky.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> - -<p>Directly ahead of me little heads of grain waved -their brilliant wings as if they were alive. The -churches and monasteries of Arzamas, like lace, -gleamed on the neighboring mountain. The -Vyyezdnaya Sloboda with its little church looked -down beautifully into the Tesha.</p> - -<p>“Oh, God,” sighed one of the peasants deeply -and slowly.</p> - -<p>What did this sigh express? I do not know. -Was it a consciousness of the difficult conditions -of life for the workingmen at this present time? -Or was it a feeling that, no matter how hard conditions -were now, yet it was better to live in the -present than in the gloomy night of the past?... -I thought it was the second idea.</p> - -<p>We parted and each went his own way.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Birds of Heaven and Other Stories, by -Vladimir Galaktionovich Korolenko - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BIRDS OF HEAVEN AND OTHER STORIES *** - -***** This file should be named 60256-h.htm or 60256-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/2/5/60256/ - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -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. 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